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diff --git a/old/51918-h/51918-h.htm b/old/51918-h/51918-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index d75fc35..0000000 --- a/old/51918-h/51918-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12727 +0,0 @@ -<?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> - Pole Baker, by Will N. Harben - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <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: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - 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%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - 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 {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pole Baker, by Will N. Harben - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Pole Baker - A Novel - -Author: Will N. Harben - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51918] -Last Updated: March 12, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POLE BAKER *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - POLE BAKER - </h1> - <h3> - A Novel - </h3> - <h2> - By Will N. Harben - </h2> - <h4> - New York and London Harper & Brothers Publishers - </h4> - <h3> - 1905 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0005.jpg" alt="0005 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0005.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - TO - </h3> - <h3> - MY SON ERIC - </h3> - <h3> - POLE BAKER - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XIX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XXI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXIV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXVI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXVII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXVIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXIX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXXI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXXII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXXIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXXIV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXVI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXVII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XXXVIII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> XXXIX </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> XL </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> XLI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XLII </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - I - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE planter - alighted from the dusty-little train under the crumbling brick car-shed at - Darley, and, turning his heavy hand-luggage over to the negro porter, he - walked across the grass to the steps of the Johnston House. Here he was - met by Jim Thornton, the dapper young clerk, who always had a curled - mustache and oiled hair smoothed flatly down over his brow. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, here you are, right side up, Captain Duncan!” he cried, cordially. - “You can't stay away from those level acres of yours very long at a time.” - </p> - <p> - “No, Jim,” the short, thick-set man smiled, as he took the extended hand; - “as soon as I heard spring had opened, I got a bad case of homesickness, - and we left Florida. My wife and daughter came a week ago. I had to stop - on business in Jacksonville. I always like to be here in planting season; - my men never seem to know exactly what I want done when I am away. Jim, - I've got a lot of fine land out there between the river and the - mountains.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon you have,” laughed the clerk, as he led his guest into the hotel - office. “There's a neighbor of yours over there at the stove, old Tom - Mayhew, who runs the big store—Mayhew & Floyd's—at - Springtown.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I know him mighty well,” said Duncan. “How are you, Mayhew? What are - you doing away from your beat? I thought you'd be behind that counter such - fine weather as this.” - </p> - <p> - “Trade's dull,” said the merchant, who was a tall, spare-made man, about - sixty-five years of age, with snow-white hair and beard. “Farmers are all - at the plough, and that's where they ought to be, Duncan, if they expect - to pay anything on their debts this fall. I had to lay in some stock, and - ran down to Atlanta day before yesterday. My young partner, Nelson Floyd, - usually does the replenishing, but the books got out of whack and I left - him to tussle with them; he's got a better head for figures than I have. - I've just sent to the livery-stable for a horse and buggy to take me out; - how are you going?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I hardly know,” answered the planter, as he took off his straw hat - and wiped his bald head with a silk handkerchief. “I telegraphed Lawson, - my head overseer, to send somebody to meet me, and I was just wondering—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you'll be attended to all right, Captain Duncan,” said the clerk, - with a laugh, as he stood at the register behind the counter. “Pole Baker - was in here last night asking if you had arrived. He said he had brought a - buggy and was going to drive you back. You will make it all right if Pole - sobers up long enough to get out of town. He was thoroughly - 'how-come-you-so' last night. He was in Asque's bar raising holy Cane. The - marshal ordered Billy to close at twelve, but Pole wouldn't hear to it, - and they came in an inch of having a fight. I believe they would if Mrs. - Johnston hadn't heard it and come down. Pole has more respect for women - than most men, and as soon as he saw her at the door he hushed up and went - to bed.” - </p> - <p> - “He's as straight as a shingle this morning, captain,” put in Charlie - Smith, a mulatto porter, who was rolling a pair of trucks across the room - laden with a drummer's enormous, brass-bound trunk. “He was up before day - asking if you got in durin' the night.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm glad he's sobered up if he's to take me out,” said the planter. - “He's about the biggest dare-devil out our way. You know him, don't you, - Mayhew?” - </p> - <p> - “Know him? Humph! to the extent of over three hundred dollars. My partner - thinks the sun rises and sets in him and never will close down on him. - They are great friends. Floyd will fight for him at the drop of a hat. He - says Pole has more manhood in him to the square inch than any man in the - county, white or black. He saw him in a knock-down-and-drag-out row in the - public square last election. They say Pole whipped three bigger men than - he is all in a bunch, and bare-handed at that. Nobody knows to this day - how it started. Nelson doesn't, but I heard it was some remark one of the - fellows made about Nelson himself. You know my partner had a rather - strange start in life—a poor boy with nobody to see to his - bringing-up, but that's a subject that even his best friends don't mention - to him.” - </p> - <p> - The captain nodded understanding. “They tell me Pole used to be a - moonshiner,” he said; “and I have heard that he was the shrewdest one in - the mountains. His wife got him to quit it. I understand he fairly - worships the ground she walks on, and there never was a better father to - his children.” - </p> - <p> - “He thinks well enough of them when he's at himself,” said Mayhew, “but - when he's drinking he neglects them awfully. I've known the neighbors to - feed them two weeks on a stretch. He's got a few enemies out our way. When - he quit moon-shining, he helped some of the government officers find some - stills over there. That was funny! Pole held off from the job that was - offered him for a month, during which time he sent word everywhere through - the mountains that he would give all his old friends plenty of time to - shut up and quit making whiskey, but after his month was up he would do - all he could against any law-breakers. He had to testify against several - who are now at large, and they certainly have it in for him. He'd have - been shot long ago if his enemies wasn't afraid of him. But they will do - him one of these days; you may mark my prediction. He is as cool and - collected in time of danger as General Lee used to be. By gum, I saw him - actually save the lives of twenty of the best citizens of this town about - a year ago.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't mean it!” exclaimed the planter. “That's what he did, captain,” - Jim Thornton cried out from behind the counter. “You bet your life that - was a ticklish time. I wasn't here, but I heard of it.” - </p> - <p> - “No, you wasn't on duty then,” said Mayhew. “I remember that, because Mrs. - Johnston had to attend to the office herself. It happened, captain, that a - squad of negro soldiers, commanded by a white officer, owing to some - wash-out on the road this side of Chattanooga, had to lay over here all - day, and they got about half drunk and started in to paint the town. They - marched up and down Main Street, two abreast, looking in the stores and - making fun of everybody and everything they saw. Finally hell got in them - as big as house afire, and they come right in here, forty strong. The - leader, a tall, black buck, over six feet high and weighing about two - hundred, went up to Mrs. Johnston at the counter and said they wanted - dinner. The old lady, feeble and gray-headed as she is, isn't a child. She - knew exactly what it meant, and she was as white as a sheet, but she told - the rascal quietly that her house did not entertain colored people. - </p> - <p> - “'That's what I've heard,' the negro said, 'but we are going to eat here - to-day or know the reason why.'” - </p> - <p> - “Good heavens!” exclaimed Duncan, “he ought to have been shot.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” went on Mayhew, “while she was trying to put him off, somebody ran - for the white officer and told him to go order his men out, and he did - start in this direction, but it was with a sneer and several questions - about why his men couldn't eat in any hotel in America, and so forth, and - when he got here in the office he just stood around and took no steps to - stop the trouble at all. He sidled over to the cigar-case and stood there - twisting his yellow mustache and turning his nose up, but he wouldn't give - the command, and that made the negroes more unruly. Mrs. Johnston appealed - to him, telling him it was his duty to clear her house of his drunken men, - but he simply gave her no satisfaction. However, you can bet trouble was - brewing. The news had spread like wildfire down the street, and every - merchant and clerk that was any man at all shoved a pistol in his pocket - and quietly slid into this room. They didn't seem to have any business - here, and it was plain that the captain, who was a Northern man, had no - idea he was so near an ambush; but a battle hung by a single hair. Both - factions was armed, and one shot would have produced a hundred. The white - citizens all had their lips set tight together, and not one had a thing to - say to any other. They were all here for simple business, and each man was - going to act on his own responsibility. The diningroom was open, and one - or two drummers had gone in to dinner, and every white man's eye was on - the door. They seemed to have made up their minds, one and all, that the - first negro that made a break in that direction would never cross the - threshold. I've been in war and carnage, but, by gum! that was the most - ticklish situation I ever faced. - </p> - <p> - “Just about that time I saw Pole Baker run in, panting and out of breath. - He had been doing a job of whitewashing down at the wagon-yard and had on - a pair of somebody's old overalls that wouldn't meet at the waist and - struck him about the knees. He'd lost his hat in his hurry, and his long, - bushy hair was all tangled. 'Have you got a spare gun?' he asked me, his - lip shaking, his eyes bulging out. I told him I didn't have anything but a - pocket-knife and might need that, and he plunged into the bar-room and - tried to borrow a pistol from Billy Asque, but Billy was on the way out - with his in his hip-pocket, and Pole come back frothing at the mouth and - begun to look under that stove there. - </p> - <p> - “'What you looking for?' said I. And he belched up an oath and said: 'Damn - it, what you think I'm looking for—a feather bed? I'm looking for - something to hit that black whelp with that's leaning over the register - threatening that poor old lady.' - </p> - <p> - “But he couldn't lay his hand on a thing, and it looked like he was about - to cry. Then things got more serious. The negroes had bunched together, - and we saw plainly that their plan was to make a break in a body for the - dining-room. I saw Pole throw his big head back like our general used to - do when things had reached a crisis. - </p> - <p> - “'If something isn't done, and done quick,' I heard him say to himself, - 'some of the best citizens of this town will lose their lives, and all for - a gang of drunken niggers. Something's got to be done, Mr. Mayhew,' he - said to me. - </p> - <p> - “'Yes, but <i>what?</i>—that's the question,' said I. - </p> - <p> - “Then I saw him act. Without a single weapon in his hand, he stalked as - straight as an arrow through the gang of negroes, elbowing them right and - left, and went up to the captain and clamped his hand on his shoulder so - heavy that I heard it clear across the room. - </p> - <p> - “'Looky' here, you damned white coward!' he said, 'you order them coons - out of here in five seconds or, by God, I'll knock every tooth in your - head down your throat, and wedge 'em in with your gums. Quick, order, I - say!' - </p> - <p> - “The chap was about Pole's height, but he looked like a sapling beside a - knotted oak, and he stared through his cigar smoke in astonishment. But - Pole's left hand came down with a ringing slap on his shoulder-straps that - almost brought the fellow to his knees, and Pole's big fist slid up close - to his eyes, and then drew back for a sledge-hammer lick. The fellow - blinked, and then with a growl and a sickly look about the mouth he gave - the order. The negroes looked at him in astonishment, but Pole waved his - big right hand and said, 'Get out! get out of here, and that mighty - quick!' They moved slow, to be sure, but they went, the officer standing - to one side looking plumb whipped. They had all gone down the steps, and - the captain, mad and sullen, was about to follow, when suddenly Pole - reached out and caught him by the collar and yanked him right back into - the crowd that was surging forward. - </p> - <p> - “'Say, you've got to listen to a speech,' Pole said, still holding to his - coat. 'I want to tell you that for a soldier you are the damnedest jackass - that ever stood on its hind-legs in blue pants. You are a pretty excuse to - send out even in charge of a set of ignorant coons. If it hadn't been for - me calling a halt on this thing you'd 'a' had to haul your company to - headquarters in a refrigerator-car, and you'd 'a' had that uniform changed - to one of tar and feathers. Now, you go on, and when you strike another - mountain town you will know what you are up against,' and with that Pole - led the chap, who was pretty well scared by that time, to the steps and - gave him a shove towards the train. Pole saved the day, and when that - crowd of Darley men realized what a riot had been averted they gathered - around him and began to praise him extravagantly. Billy Askew ran into his - bar and came out with his old dog-eared ledger open at Pole's account, and - he held it up and tore the page out. 'No man,' said he, 'can owe <i>me</i> - for whiskey that's got that sort of a body to put it in, and Pole Baker - from this day on is at liberty to stick his mouth to every bung-hole in my - shop.' - </p> - <p> - “And that night Pole was so drunk that the marshal started to lock him up, - but the gang stood to him. They put him to bed up-stairs in the - bridal-chamber, and sat around him till morning, singing battle-songs and - raising the devil generally.” - </p> - <p> - “I see him coming now, Mr. Mayhew,” said the clerk. “Captain, he walks - steady enough. I reckon he'll take you through safe.” - </p> - <p> - The tall countryman, about thirty-five years of age, without a coat, his - coarse cotton shirt open at the neck, a slouched hat on his massive head - and his tattered trousers stuffed into the tops of his high boots, came - in. He wore a brown, sweeping mustache, and his eyebrows were unusually - heavy. On the heel of his right boot he wore an old riding spur, very - loosely strapped. - </p> - <p> - “How are you, Captain Duncan?” he said to the planter, as he extended his - brawny hand. “You've come back to God's country, heigh?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Baker,” the planter returned, with a genial smile. “I had to see - what sort of chance you fellows stand for a crop this year. I understand - Lawson sent you over for me and my baggage. I'm certainly glad he engaged - a man about whom I have heard such good reports.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I don't know about <i>that</i>, captain,” said Pole, his bushy - brows meeting in a frown of displeasure, and his dark eyes flashing. “I - don't know as I'm runnin' a hack-line, or totin' trunks about fer the - upper-ten set of humanity. I'm a farmer <i>myself</i>, in a sort of way—smaller'n - you are, but a farmer. I was comin' this way yesterday, and was about to - take my own hoss out of the field, where he had plenty to do, when Lawson - said: 'Baker, bein' as you are goin' to make the trip <i>anyways</i>, I'd - feel under obligations ef you'd take my rig and fetch Captain Duncan back - when you come.' By gum, to tell you the truth, I've just come in to say to - you, old hoss, that ef you are ready right now, we'll ride out together; - ef not, I'll leave yore rig and go out with Nathan Porter. I say engaged! - I'm not goin' to get any money out o' this job.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I meant no offence at all, Baker,” said the planter, in no little - embarrassment, for the group was smiling. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I reckon you didn't,” said Pole, slightly mollified, “but it's - always a good idea fer two men to know exactly where they stand, and I'm - here to say I don't take off my hat to no man on earth. The only man I'd - bow down to died two thousand years ago.” - </p> - <p> - “That's the right spirit,” Duncan said, admiringly. “Now, I'm ready if you - are, and it's time we were on the move. Those two valises are mine, and - that big overcoat tied in a bundle.” - </p> - <p> - “Here, Charlie!” Pole called out to the porter, “put them things o' - Duncan's in the back end o' the buggy an' I'll throw you a dime the next - time I'm in town.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, boss,” the mulatto said, with a knowing wink and smile at - Mayhew. “They'll be in by the time you get there.” - </p> - <p> - While the planter was at the counter saying goodbye to the clerk, Pole - looked down at Mayhew. “When are <i>you</i> goin' out?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “In an hour or so,” answered the merchant, as he spat down into a - cuspadore. “I'm waiting now for a turnout, and I've got some business to - attend to.” - </p> - <p> - “Collections to make, I'll bet my hat,” Pole laughed. “I thought mighty - few folks was out on Main Street jest now; they know you are abroad in the - land, an' want to save the'r socks.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you reckon that's it, Baker?” said Mayhew, as he spat again. “I - thought maybe it was because they was afraid you'd git on the war-path, - and wanted to keep their skins whole.” - </p> - <p> - The clerk and the planter laughed. “He got you that time, Pole,” the - latter said, with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “I'll acknowledge the corn,” and the mountaineer joined in the laugh - good-naturedly. “To look at the old skinflint, settin' half asleep all the - time, a body wouldn't think his tongue had any life to it. But I've seen - the dem thing wiggle before. It was when thar was a trade up, though.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - II - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>S they were - driving into the country road, just beyond the straggling houses in the - outskirts of the town, going towards the mountains, which lay along the - western horizon like blue clouds settling to earth, the planter said: - </p> - <p> - “I've seen you fishing and hunting with Mayhew's young partner, Nelson - Floyd. You and he are rather intimate, are you not?” - </p> - <p> - “Jest about as friendly as two men can be,” said Pole, “when one's rising - in the world an' t'other is eternally at a stand-still or goin' down like - a round rock on the side of a mountain. Or maybe I ought to say, when one - of 'em has had the pluck to educate hisse'f, an' t'other hardly knows B - from a bull's foot. I don't know, captain, why Nelson Floyd's friendly to - me. I like him beca'se he is a man from his toe-nails to the end o' the - longest hair on his head.” - </p> - <p> - “I've heard a lot of good things about him,” remarked the planter, “and I - understand, too, that he has his faults.” - </p> - <p> - “They're part of his manhood,” said Pole, philosophically. “Show me a - feller without faults, and I'll show you one that's too weak to have 'em. - Nelson's got some o' the dust o' the broad road on his coat, an' yet I'd - take his place in the general stampede when old Gabe blows his trumpet at - the millennium a sight quicker than I'd stand in the shoes o' some o' - these jack-leg preachers. I tell you, Captain Duncan, ef the Lord's goin' - to make favorites o' some o' the long-faced hypocrits I know, that is - robbin' widows an' orphans in the week an' prayin' an' shoutin' on Sunday - to pull the wool over folks' eyes, me an' Him won't gee in the hereafter. - You know some'n about that boy's start in life, don't you, captain?” - </p> - <p> - “Not much, I must own,” answered the planter. - </p> - <p> - “Thar it is,” said Pole, with a condemning sneer; “ef the pore boy had - belonged to one o' the big families in yore ring out in Murray—the - high an' mighty, that owned niggers, you'd 'a' heard all about him. - Captain, nobody on earth knows how that feller has suffered. All his life - he's wanted to make some'n of hisse'f, an' has absolutely, to my certain - knowledge, had more to contend with than any man alive. He don't even know - the exact date of his birth, an' ain't plumb-sure that his name really is - Floyd. You see, jest at the close of the war a woman—so sick she - could hardly walk—come through the Union lines in East-Tennessee - with a baby in her arms. Accordin' to report, she claimed that her name - was Floyd, an' called the baby 'Nelson.' She put up at a mountain cabin - for the night, a shack whar some pore razor-back whites lived by name o' - Perdue. Old man Perdue was a lyin', treacherous scamp, a bushwhacker and a - mountain outlaw, an' his wife was a good mate to him. Nelson's mammy, as I - say, was tuck in, but thar wasn't no doctor nigh, an' very little to eat, - an' the next mornin' she was ravin' out of her head, and late that day she - died. I'm tellin' you now all that Nelson Floyd ever was able to find out, - as it come down to him from one person's recollection to another's. Well, - the woman was buried somers, nobody knows whar, an' old Mrs. Perdue kept - the baby more beca'se she was afeard to put it out o' the way than fer any - pity fer it. She had a whole litter of brats of her own goin' about winter - an' summer in the'r shirt-tails, an' so she left Nelson to scratch fer - hisself. Then the authorities made it hot fer Perdue on some charges agin - 'im, and he left the child with another mountain family by name o' Scott - and moved clean out of the country. The Scotts couldn't remember much more - than hearsay about how Nelson got thar, an' they didn't care, though they - tried to raise the boy along with three of their own. He had a tough time - of it, for he was a plucky little devil, and had a fight with somebody - mighty nigh every day. And as he growed up he naturally fell into bad - company, or it fell into him like everything else did, an' he tuck to - drinkin' an' finally become a regular young outlaw; he was a bloodthirsty - rowdy before he was fifteen; shot at one man fer some cause or other an' - barely escaped bein' put up fer life—nothin' but bein' so young got - 'im off. But one day—now I'm givin' it to you jest as Nelson told me—one - day he said he got to thinkin' about the way he was a-goin', and all of - his own accord he made up his mind to call a halt. He wanted to cut clean - off from his old set, an' so he went to Mayhew, at Springtown, and told - him he wanted to git work in the store. Old Mayhew would skin a flea fer - its hide an' tallow, an', seein' his money in the boy, he bound 'im to an - agreement to work fer his bare board an' clothes fer three years.” - </p> - <p> - “Low enough wages, certainly!” exclaimed the planter. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but Nelson didn't grumble, and Mayhew will tell you hisself that - thar never was sech a worker sence the world was made. He was a general - hand at ever'thing, and as bright as a new dollar and as quick as a - steel-trap. The Lord only knows when or how he did it, fer nobody ever - seed a book in his hands in business hours, but he l'arned to read and - write and figure. An' that wasn't all. Old Mayhew was sech an old - skinflint, and so hard on folks who got in his debt, that nobody traded at - his shebang except them that couldn't go anywhars else; but lo and behold! - Nelson made so many friends that they begun to flock around 'im from all - directions, an' the business of the house was more than doubled. Mayhew - knowed the cause of it, fer lots o' customers throwed it up to 'im. The - prosperity was almost too much fer the old skunk; in fact, he got mighty - nigh scared at it, and actually tried to dam the stream o' profit. To keep - up sech a business, big credit had to be extended, and it was a new - venture fer the cautious old scamp. But Nelson had perfect faith in all - his friends, and thar it stood—a beardless boy holdin' forth that it - was the old man's chance of a lifetime to git rich, and Mayhew half - believin' it, crazy to act on Nelson's judgment, an' yet afraid it would - be ruination. That was at the close of the boy's three-year contract. He - was then about twenty year old, and I was in the store 'and heard the talk - between 'em. We was all a-settin' at the big wood stove in the back end—me - an' the old man, an' Nelson, and Joe Peters, a clerk, who is still there - but was then workin' on trial. I shall never forget that night as long as - I live. I gloried in Nelson's spunk to sech an extent I could 'a' throwed - up my hat an' hollered. - </p> - <p> - “'I've been waitin' to have a talk with you, Mr. Mayhew,' the boy said. - 'Our contract is out today, and you and me disagree so much about runnin' - the business that I hardly know what I ought to do an' not stand in my own - light. We've got to make a fresh contract, anyway.' - </p> - <p> - “'I knowed that was comin',' old Mayhew said, with one o' his big, hoggish - grunts. 'People for miles around have made it the'r particular business to - fill you up with ideas about what you are wuth. I've thought some about - lettin' you go an' see ef me an' Joe cayn't keep things a-movin'; but you - know the trade round here, an' I want to do the fair thing. What do you - think yore time's wuth?” Pole laughed. “The old skunk was usin' exactly - the same words he'd 'a' used ef he'd been startin' in to buy a load o' - produce an' wanted to kill expectation at the outset. - </p> - <p> - “'I. want fifty dollars a month, <i>under certain conditions''</i> the boy - said, lookin' the old skinflint straight in the eye. - </p> - <p> - “'Fifty—huh! yo're crazy—stark, starin' crazy, plumb off yore - base!' the old man said, his lip twisted up like it is when he's mad. 'I - see myse'f payin' a beardless boy a Broadway salary to work in a shack - like this out here in the mountains.' - </p> - <p> - “'Well, I'll jest be obliged to quit you then,' Nelson said, as steady as - a mill-pond on a hot day in August, 'an' I'd sorter hate to do it. Moore - & Trotter at Darley offer me that fer the fust six months, with an - increase later.' - </p> - <p> - “'Moore & Trotter!' the old skunk grunted loud enough to be heard - clean to the court-house across the street. They was the only firm in this - end o' the state that controlled as much custom as Mayhew did, an' it - struck the old chump under the ribs. He got up from his chair an' walked - clean down to the front-door. It was shet an' locked; but thar was a lamp - on the show-case nigh whar he stopped, an' I could see his old face - a-workin' under the influence o' good an' evil. Purty soon he grunted, an' - come back, thumpin' his old stick agin barrels an' boxes along the way. - </p> - <p> - “'How am I goin' to know whether Moore & Trotter offered you that much - or not?' he axed. - </p> - <p> - “'Beca'se I said so,' Nelson told 'im, an' his dark eyes was flashin' like - lightnin'. He stood up an' faced the old codger. 'I'll tell you one thing, - Mr. Mayhew,' he let fly at 'im, 'ef you don't know whether I'm tellin' the - truth or not you'd better not keep me, fer a man that will lie will steal. - I say they offered me fifty dollars. I've got the'r written proposition in - my pocket, but I'll be hanged ef I show it to you!'” - </p> - <p> - “Good!” exclaimed the planter. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it knocked the old man clean off his feet,” Pole went on. “He sat - down in his chair again, all of a tremble, an' white about the mouth. - Stingy folks git scared to death at the very idea o' payin' out money, - anyway, an' stingy don't fit that old cuss. Ef Noah Webster had knowed him - he'd 'a' made another word fer that meanin'. I don't know but he'd simply - 'a' spelled out the old man's name an' 'a' been done with it.” - </p> - <p> - “What final answer did Mayhew give the young man, Baker?” asked the - planter, in a tone which indicated no little interest. - </p> - <p> - “Why, he jest set still fer a while,” said Pole, “an' me an' Joe Peters - was a-wonderin' what he'd say. He never did anything sudden. Ef he ever - gits to heaven he'll feel his way through the gate an' want to know ef - thar's any other entrance. I seed 'im keep a woman standin' in the store - once from breakfast to dinner time while he was lookin' fer a paper o' - needles she'd called fer. Every now an' then he'd quit huntin' fer the - needles an' go an' wait on some other customer, an' then come back to 'er. - She was a timid sort o' thing, an' didn't seem to think she had the right - to leave, bein' as she had started the search. Whenever she'd go towards - the door to see ef her hoss was standin', he'd call 'er back an' ax 'er - about 'er crap an' tell 'er not to be in a hurry, that Rome wasn't built - in a day, an' the like. You know the old cuss has some education. Finally - he found the needles an' tuck another half an' hour to select a scrap o' - paper little enough to wrap 'em up in. But you axed me what Nelson said to - 'im. Huh! the boy was too good a trader to push a matter like that to a - head. He'd throwed down the bars, an' he jest waited fer the old man to - come into the grass of his own accord. Finally Mayhew axed, as indifferent - as he could under all his excitement: 'When do you intend to answer the - letter you say you got from Moore & Trotter?' - </p> - <p> - “'I expect to answer it to-night,' Nelson said. 'I shall tell 'em I - appreciate the'r offer an' will run over an' see 'em day after - to-morrow.'” - </p> - <p> - “Good! very well said, Baker,” laughed Captain Duncan. “No wonder the - young man's got rich. You can't keep talent like that down. But what did - old Mayhew say?” - </p> - <p> - “It was like pullin' eye-teeth,” answered Pole. “But he finally come - across. 'Well,' said he, 'I reckon you kin make yorese'f as useful to me - as you kin to them, an' ef you are bent on ridin' me to death, after I - picked you up, an' give you a start, an' l'arnt you how to do business, I - reckon I'll have to put up with it.' - </p> - <p> - “'I don't feel like I owe you anything,' said Nelson, as plucky as a - banker demandin' good security on a loan. 'I've worked for you like a - slave for three years for my bare livin' an' my experience, an' from now - on I am goin' to work for number one. I said that I'd stay for fifty - dollars a month <i>on certain conditions</i>.' - </p> - <p> - “'Conditions?' the old man growled. 'What conditions do you mean?' - </p> - <p> - “'Why, it's jest this,' said Nelson. 'I've had my feelin's, an' the - feelin's o' my friends, hurt time after time by you turnin' 'em away - without credit, when I knowed they would meet the'r obligations. Now, ef I - stay with you, it is with the distinct understandin' that I have the - authority to give or refuse credit whenever I see fit.' - </p> - <p> - “That knocked the old man off his perch ag'in. He wilted an' sat thar as - limp as a dish-rag. Joe Peters worships the ground Nelson walks on, an', - as much as he fears the old man, he busted out in a big chuckle an' rubbed - his hands together. Besides, he knowed Nelson was talkin' fer the interest - o' the business. He'd seed no end o' good customers sent off fer no reason - in the world than that Mayhew was scared o' his shadow. - </p> - <p> - “'I'll never consent to <i>that</i>, anyway,' Mayhew said, mighty nigh - clean whipped out. - </p> - <p> - “'Well, Moore & Trotter <i>will</i>,' Nelson said. 'That's one o' the - things laid down in the'r proposition.' An' the boy went to the desk an' - drawed out a sheet o' paper an' dipped his pen in the ink. The old man set - quiverin' awhile, an' then got up an' went an' stood behind the boy. 'Put - down yore pen,' said he, with a deep sigh from away down inside of 'im. - 'It would ruin me fer you to move to Darley—half the trade would - follow you. Go ahead, I'll keep you, an' run the risk.'” - </p> - <p> - The planter had been listening attentively, and he now said, admiringly: - “Even at that early age the boy was showing the talent that developed - later. It wasn't long after that, I believe, before he became the old - man's partner.” - </p> - <p> - “The next year,” answered Pole. “He saved every dollar of his wages and - made some good investments that turned out money. It wasn't a big slice of - the business at fust, but he owns a half now, an', countin' his outside - interests, he's wuth as much as old Mayhew. He's rich already, captain.” - </p> - <p> - “So I've heard the women say,” smiled the planter. “Women always keep - track of well-to-do unmarried men.” - </p> - <p> - “It hain't 'spiled Nelson one bit, nuther,” added Baker. “He's the same - unselfish friend to me as he ever was, and I hain't hardly got a roof to - cover me an' mine. But as solid as he always was, he had a serious - back-set about three years ago, and all his well-wishers thought it was - goin' to do him up.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean when he took to drinking,” said Captain Duncan, interrogatively. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's what I mean. He'd formed the habit when he was a boy, and - along with his prosperity an' late work-hours it begun to fasten its claws - on 'im like it has on some other folks I know, captain. He had a lot o' - night work to do, an' Thigpen's bar was right 'j'inin' the store. Nelson - used to slide in at the back-door whenever the notion struck 'im; and he - made the trail hot, I tell you. Old Mayhew kept a sharp eye on 'im, an' - every now an' then he'd git powerful blue over the way things was a-goin'. - Finally the old cuss got desperate an' called a halt. He had a straight - talk with Nelson, an' told 'im they would have to divide the'r interests, - that he wasn't a drinkin' man hisse'f, an' he didn't want to be yoked to a - feller that was soaked half the time. It fetched the boy to his senses. He - come over to my house that night an' called me out to the fence. - </p> - <p> - “'I want to make a deal with you, Pole,' said he. - </p> - <p> - “'With me?' says I. 'What sort of a deal?' - </p> - <p> - “'Why,' said he, 'I've made up my mind to swear off fer good an' all, an' - I want you to jine me.' - </p> - <p> - “I agreed all right,” Pole laughed. “In fact, I was sorter in that - business; I'd promised every preacher an' temperance worker in the county - to quit, an' I couldn't refuse a friend what I was dispensin' so freely - right an' left. So I said, said I: 'All right, Nelson, I'm with you.'” - </p> - <p> - “And how did it come out?” questioned the planter, as he bowed to a - wagonful of farmers going in an opposite direction. - </p> - <p> - “His vaccination tuck,” Pole smiled. “He had a mighty sore arm fer a week - or so, but he helt out. As fer me, I was so dem glad to see his success in - abstainin' that I started in to celebrate. I did try, though. One mornin' - I went in the store an' seed Nelson have sech a clean, prosperous look an' - so well satisfied with his stand that I went out with fresh resolutions. - What did I do? I went to the bar-room an' bought four pint bottles o' red - rye an' tuck 'em home with me. I set 'em all in a straight row on the - mantel-shelf, nigh the edge, in front o' the clock, an' was standin' - lookin' at 'em when Sally, my wife, come in. She seed the display, an' - jest set kerflop down in her chair an' begun to whimper. - </p> - <p> - “'You hold on!' said I; 'don't you cross a foot-log till the tree's down. - I'm tryin' a new dicker. I've always heard that “familiarity breeds - contempt,” an' I've also heard that “the hair o' the dog is good fer the - bite.” Now, I've tried my level best to quit liquor by stayin' away from - it, an' I'm a-goin' to see ef I cayn't do it with its eye on me all the - time.' Well, sir, the sweet little woman—she's a sweet, dear little - creature, Captain Duncan, ef I do say it myse'f.” - </p> - <p> - “I've always heard so, Baker,” the planter said. “She's very popular with - your neighbors.” - </p> - <p> - “An' I'm jest t'other way,” said Pole. “Well, Sally she got up an' kissed - me, an' said that somehow she felt like my plan would work.” - </p> - <p> - “And did it?—I mean”—the captain recalled Pole's spree of only - the night before—“I mean, did it work for any length of time?” - </p> - <p> - “I was goin' on to tell you,” answered the mountaineer. “That night fer - the fust time sence my marriage I woke smack dab in the middle o' the - night, an' as I laid thar in the room filled with moonlight I couldn't see - a blessed thing but that row o' bottles, an' then my mouth set in to - waterin' at sech a rate that I got afeard I'd ketch my death from sleepin' - on a wet pillow. It was certainly a struggle with the flesh. I'd put my - thirst, captain, when she's good an' dry, ag'in any that ever tickled a - human throat. It ud take the blue ribbon at a convention o' drunkards. - It's a rale thing; it kin walk, an' talk, an' kick, an' squirm, but it - won't be dictated to. Finally Sally woke up an' said: - </p> - <p> - “'What's the matter, Pole? Hain't you comfortable?' - </p> - <p> - “'Comfortable the devil!' said I—I'm usually polite to Sally, but I - felt like that wasn't no time an' place to talk about little matters. - 'Comfortable nothin',' said I. 'Sally, ef you don't take that “doghair” - out o' this house an' hide it, I'll be as drunk as a b'iled owl in ten - minutes.' - </p> - <p> - “'Dog-hair?' said she, an' then the little woman remembered, an' she got - up. I heard the bottles tinkle like sorrowful good-bye bells callin' - wanderin' friends back to the fold as she tuck 'em up an' left. Captain, I - felt jest like”—Pole laughed good-naturedly—“I felt like thar - was a mean, stinkin' plot agin the best friends I ever had. I actually - felt sorry fer them thar bottles, an' I got up an' stood at the window an' - watched Sally as she tuck 'em away out in the lonely moonlight to the - barn. I seed 'er climb over the fence o' the cow-lot an' go in at the side - whar I kept my hay an' fodder an' roughness fer my cattle. Then I laid - down in bed ag'in.” - </p> - <p> - “You acted right,” said the planter; “and you deserve credit for putting - your foot down so firmly on what you felt was so injurious, even, even”—the - captain came back again to reality—“even if you didn't remain firm - very long afterwards.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll tell you one thing—” The ex-moonshiner laughed again, - and his eyes twinkled. “It tuck Sally longer, it seemed to me, to git to - sleep after she got back than it ever had in all her life. Of all times on - earth, she wanted to talk. But I shet her off. I made like I was breathin' - good an' deep, an' then she set in, too. What did I do? Captain Duncan, I - spent the best half o' that night out in the barn lookin' fer hens' nests. - I found two, an' had to be put to bed at sun-up.” - </p> - <p> - The planter laughed. “There is one good thing about the situation, Baker,” - he said, “and that is your making a joke of it. I believe you will get the - under-hold of the thing some day and throw it over. Coming back to your - friend Floyd, it's true he gave up whiskey, but if reports are reliable he - has another fault that is quite as bad.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you mean all that talk about that girl,” answered the mountaineer. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Baker, a reputation of that sort is not a desirable thing in any - community. I know that many brainy and successful men hold that kind of - thing lightly, but it will down anybody who tampers with it.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, look here, captain,” Pole said, sharply; “don't you be an old woman! - 'Ain't you got more sense 'an to swallow everything that passes among idle - gossips in these mountains? Nelson Floyd has got a backbone full o' the - fire o' youth an' is a hot-blooded young chap, but he's, to my positive - knowledge, one o' the cleanest boys I ever come across. To tell you the - truth, I don't believe he ever made but that one slip. It got out, - unfortunately, an' beca'se he was rich an' prominent it raised a regular - whirlwind o' talk an' exaggeration. If it had happened to half a dozen - other young men round about here, not a word would 'a' been said.” - </p> - <p> - '“Oh, I see,” smiled the planter, “he's not as black as he's painted, - then.” - </p> - <p> - “Not by a jugful,” said the farmer. “I tell you he's all right, an' folks - will know it 'fore long.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - III - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>PRINGTOWN was - about twelve miles west of Darley, only a mile from Captain Duncan's - house, and half a mile from Pole Baker's humble cottage and small farm. - The village had a population of about two hundred souls. It was the - county-seat, and the court-house, a simple, ante-bellum brick structure, - stood in the centre of the public square, around which were clustered the - one-storied shops, lawyer's offices, cotton warehouses, hotel, and general - stores. - </p> - <p> - Chief among the last mentioned was the well-known establishment of Mayhew - & Floyd. It was a long, frame building, once white but now a murky - gray, a tone which nothing but the brush of time and weather could have - given it. - </p> - <p> - It was only a week since Captain Duncan's talk with Pole Baker, and a - bright, inspiring morning, well suited to the breaking of the soil and the - planting of seed. The village was agog with the spirit of hope. The - post-office was filled with men who had come for their mail, and they - stood and chatted about the crops on the long veranda of the hotel and in - the front part of Mayhew & Floyd's store. Pole Baker was in the store - talking with Joe Peters, the clerk, about seed potatoes, when a tall - countryman, in the neighborhood of forty-five years of age, slouched in - and leaned heavily against the counter. - </p> - <p> - “I want a box o' forty-four cartridges,” he said, drawing out a long - revolver and rapping on the counter with the butt of it. - </p> - <p> - “What! you goin' squirrel huntin'?” Peters laughed and winked at Pole. - “That gun's got a long enough barrel to send a ball to the top o' the - highest tree in these mountains.” - </p> - <p> - “You slide around behind thar an' git me them cartridges!” retorted the - customer. “Do yore talkin' to somebody else. I'll hunt what an' whar I - want to, I reckon.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, come off yore perch, Jeff Wade!” the clerk said, with another easy - laugh. “You hain't nobody's daddy! But here you are. Forty cents a box, - full count, every one warranted to make a hole an' a noise. Want me to - charge 'em?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I don't; do you hear me?—I don't! An', what's more, I want to - know exactly how much I owe this dern house. I've been to a dozen - moneylenders 'fore I found what I wanted, but I got it, an' I want to pay - what I owe Mayhew & Floyd.” Just then Pole Baker stepped up to the - man's side, and, looking under the broad brim of his hat, he said: - </p> - <p> - “Looky' here, Jeff Wade, what you shootin' off yore mouth fer? I 'lowed at - fust that you was full, but you hain't drinkin', at least you don't seem - to have no bottle on yore person.” - </p> - <p> - “Drinkin' hell! No, I'm not drinkin', an', what's more, I don't intend to - let a drap pass down my throat till I've done my duty to me an' mine. Say, - you look good an' see ef I'm drinkin'! See ef you think a man that's in - liquor would have as steady a nerve as I've got. You watch me! Maybe it'll - show you what I'm able to do.” - </p> - <p> - Turning, he stalked out of the store, and Peters and Pole followed, - watching him in wonder. He strode across the street to the court-house, - loading his revolver as he went. Reaching the closed door of the building, - he took an envelope from his pocket and fastened it to the panel by - thrusting the blade of his big pocket-knife into it several times. The - spectators heard the hollow, resounding blows like the strokes of a - carpenter's hammer, and then Wade turned and came back towards them. - </p> - <p> - “By gum, he's off his nut!” said Peters, seriously. “He's as crazy as a - bed-bug.” - </p> - <p> - “It's my opinion he's jest comin' to his senses,” Pole mused, a troubled - look in his eyes. “Yes, that's about it; he's jest wakin' up, an' the - whole county will know it, too. By gum, I hate this—I hate it!” - </p> - <p> - “You hate what?” asked Peters, his eyes on the farmer, who was now quite - near them. Pole made no reply, for Wade was by his side on the brick walk - beneath the wooden shed in front of the store, his revolver swinging at - his side. - </p> - <p> - “You fellows keep yore eye on that envelope,” said Wade, and he cocked his - revolver. - </p> - <p> - “Look here, don't make a damn fool o' yorese'f,” said Pole Baker, and he - laid a remonstrating hand on the iron arm of the gaunt mountaineer. “You - know it's agin the ordinance. You know you'll git into trouble; you listen - to the advice of a friend. Put up that gun an' go home!” - </p> - <p> - “I'm my own boss, damn it!” snarled the man with the weapon. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, an' a dern fool, too,” answered Baker. - </p> - <p> - “Well, that's my lookout.” Wade glared over his shoulder into the store - and raised his voice significantly. “I want to show this damn town how - easy it will be fer me to put three shots into the blackest heart that - ever pumped human blood.” - </p> - <p> - “You'd better mind what yo're about, Jeff Wade.” Pole Baker was pale, his - lips were tight, his eyes flashing. - </p> - <p> - “I know what I'm about. I'm tryin' to draw a coward from his den. I'm not - shore—I'm not dead shore, mind you—but I'm mighty nigh it. Ef - the guilty stand an' hear what I'm a-sayin' an' don't take it up, they are - wuss than hell-tainted. You watch that white mark.” - </p> - <p> - The bystanders, several comprehending, stood rigid. Pole Baker stared. - Wade raised his Revolver, aimed steadily at the mark, and fired three - shots in quick succession. - </p> - <p> - “Thar!” said the marksman, with grim triumph; “as bad as my sight is, I - kin see 'em from here.” - </p> - <p> - “By gum, they are thar!” exclaimed Peters, with a strange, inquiring look - into Pole Baker's set face. “They are thar, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “You bet they are thar, an' some'll be in another spot 'fore long,” said - Wade. “Now, Peters, you go in the house an' bring me my account. I've got - the money.” - </p> - <p> - Wonderingly, the clerk obeyed. Pole went into the store behind him, and, - as Peters stood at the big ledger writing, Pole stepped up to Nelson - Floyd, who sat near a window in the rear with a newspaper in front of him. - </p> - <p> - “Did you hear all that, Nelson?” the farmer asked. - </p> - <p> - “Did I? Of course I did. Wasn't it intended for—” The young merchant - glanced furtively at Peters and paused. His handsome, dark face was set as - from tense, inward struggle. - </p> - <p> - There was a pause. Peters went towards the front, a written account drying - in the air as he waved it to and fro. - </p> - <p> - “I was about to ask you if—” the young merchant began, but Pole - interrupted him. - </p> - <p> - “Hush, listen!” - </p> - <p> - There was the sound of clinking coin on the counter below. The cast-iron - bell on the cash-drawer rang harshly as the clerk put the money away. - </p> - <p> - “Thar, I'm even with this dirty shebang!” It was Jeff Wade's raised voice. - “An' I kin act when the proper time comes. Oh, you all know what I'm - talkin' about! Nobody kin hide a thing in these mountains. But you'll - understand it better, ef it ever comes into yore own families. I never had - but one little sister—she was all the Lord ever allowed me to have. - She was married not more'n a month ago an' went off to Texas with a man - who believes in 'er an' swears he will make her a good husband an' - protector. But no sooner was the pore little thing gone than all this talk - set in. It was writ out to her, an' she writ back to me to stop it. She - admitted it was true, but wouldn't lay the blame. Folks say they know, but - they won't talk. They are afeard o' the influence o' money an' power, I - reckon, but it will git out. I have my suspicions, but I'm not yet dead - shore; but I will be, an' what I done fer that scrap o' paper I will do - fer that man, ef God don't paralyze this right arm. Ef the black-hearted - devil is within the sound o' my voice at this minute, an' stays still, - he's not only the thief of woman's happiness, but he's wuss than a coward. - He's a sneakin' son of—” - </p> - <p> - Nelson Floyd, his face rigid, sprang up and went into Joe Peters's little - bedroom, which was cut off in one corner of the store, and, opening the - top drawer of an old bureau, he took out a revolver. Turning, he met in - the door-way the stalwart form of Pole Baker. - </p> - <p> - “Put down that gun, Nelson! put it down!” Pole commanded. “Jeff Wade's - deliberately set this trap to draw you into it, an' the minute you walk - down thar it will be a public acknowledgment, an' he'll kill you 'fore you - kin bat an eye.” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt,” said Nelson Floyd, “but the fellow has his rights. I could - never draw a free breath if I let this pass. I owe it to the poor devil, - Pole, and I'll pay. That has always been my rule. I'll pay. Stand aside!” - </p> - <p> - “I'll be damned ef I do.” Pole stood his ground firmly. “You must listen - to reason. It's deliberate death.” - </p> - <p> - “Get out of the way, Pole; don't make me mad,” said Floyd. “I'm going - down. I'd expect him to pay me, and I shall him.” - </p> - <p> - “Stop! You are a fool—you are a damned hotheaded simpleton, Nelson - Floyd. Listen to me.” Pole caught the revolver and held on to the barrel - of it while the young merchant clutched the butt. “Listen to me, I say. - Are you goin' back on a helpless little woman? After you have had yore - fun, an' the pore little trick gets married to a man who believes in her, - an' goes away off an' is on a fair road to happiness, are you, I say, - a-goin' to publicly advertise her shame, an', no doubt, bust up a - contented home?” - </p> - <p> - “Great God, Pole!” exclaimed Floyd, as he sank onto the edge of Peters's - bed, “do you think, if I give Wade satisfaction it will—” - </p> - <p> - “Will it? It will be in every paper from Maine to Californy. Meddlesome - devils will mark the articles an' mail 'em to the gal's husband. A lot o' - folks did the'r level best to bust up the match, anyway, by talkin' to him - about you an' others.” - </p> - <p> - Nelson Floyd stared at the floor and slowly nodded his head. - </p> - <p> - “I'm caught in a more degrading trap than the one Wade set for me,” he - declared, bitterly. “My acts have branded me as a coward and left me - without power to vindicate myself. That's one of the ways Providence has - of punishing a poor devil. A man may have a good impulse, but can't act - upon it owing to the restrictions laid on him by his very sins.” - </p> - <p> - Pole looked down into the store. - </p> - <p> - “Nevermind,” he said, gloomily. “Wade's gone.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd dropped the revolver into the drawer of the bureau, and went back to - his desk. - </p> - <p> - “It's only a question of time, Pole,” he said. “He suspects me now, but is - not sure. It won't be long before the full story will reach him, and then - we'll have to meet. As far as I am concerned, I'd rather have had it over - with. I've swallowed a bitter pill this mornin', Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it wasn't a lead one.” Baker's habitual sense of humor was rising - to the surface. “Most any sort o' physic's better'n cold metal shoved into - the system through its own hole.” - </p> - <p> - There was a step in the store. Pole looked down again. - </p> - <p> - “It's old Mayhew,” he said. “I'm powerful glad he was late this mornin', - Nelson. The old codger would have seed through that talk.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he would have seen through it,” answered Floyd, despondently, as he - opened a big ledger and bent over it. Mayhew trudged towards them, his - heavy cane knocking against the long dry-goods counter. - </p> - <p> - “I'll have the law on that fellow,” he growled, as he hung his stick on - its accustomed nail behind the stove. “No rampageous dare-devil like that - can stand right in my front-door and shoot for mere amusement at the - county court-house. This isn't a fort yet, and the war is over, thank the - Lord.” - </p> - <p> - Pole glanced at Floyd. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he's jest a little hilarious this mornin', Mr. Mayhew,” he said. “He - must 'a' met a mountain whiskey wagon on his way to town. Anyways, you - needn't complain; he come in here jest now an' paid off his account in - full.” - </p> - <p> - “What? paid off—Is that so, Nelson?” - </p> - <p> - Floyd nodded, and then bent more closely over the ledger. “Yes, he paid up - to date.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, that's queer—or I am, one or the other; why, boys, I had that - fellow on my dead-list. I didn't think he'd ever raise the money, and if - he did I had no idea it would drift our way.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd left the desk and reached for his hat. Pole was watching him - closely. - </p> - <p> - “Post-office?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” Pole joined him, and the two walked part of the way to the - front-door and paused. Joe Peters was attending a man on the grocery side - of the house, and a young woman, neatly dressed, with a pretty figure and - graceful movement, stood waiting her turn. - </p> - <p> - “By gum!” Pole exclaimed under his breath, “that's my little neighbor, - Cynthia Porter—the purtiest, neatest, an' best little trick that - ever wore a bonnet. I needn't tell you that, though, you old scamp. You've - already found it out. Go wait on 'er, Nelson. Don't keep 'er standin' - thar.” - </p> - <p> - Pole sat down on a bag of coffee and his friend went to the girl. - </p> - <p> - “Good-morning, Miss Cynthia,” he said, his hat in his hand. “Peters seems - busy. I don't know much about the stock, but if you'll tell me what you - want I'll look for it.” - </p> - <p> - Turning, she stared at him, her big brown eyes under their long lashes - wide open as if in surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Why—why—” She seemed to be making a valiant effort at - self-control, and then he noticed that her voice was quivering and that - she was quite pale. - </p> - <p> - “I really didn't want to buy anything,” she said. “Mother sent me to tell - Mr. Peters that she couldn't possibly have the butter ready before - to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the butter,” Floyd said, studying her face and manner in perplexity. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” the girl went on, “she promised to have ten pounds ready to send to - Darley, but the calves got to the cows and spoiled everything; that threw - her at least a day behind.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that don't make a bit o' difference to us, Miss Cynthia!” the clerk - cried out from the scales, where he was weighing a parcel of sugar. “Our - wagon ain't goin' over till Saturday, nohow.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, she will certainly be glad,” the girl returned in a tone of relief, - and she moved towards the door. Floyd, still wondering, went with her to - the sidewalk. - </p> - <p> - “You look pale,” he said, tentatively, “and—and, well, the truth is, - I have never seen you just this way, Cynthia. Have you been having further - trouble at home? Is your mother still determined that we sha'n't have any - more of our buggy rides?” - </p> - <p> - “It wasn't that—<i>to-day</i>,” she said, her eyes raised to his in - a glance that, somehow, went straight to his heart. “I'll tell you, - Nelson. As I came on, I had just reached Sim Tompkins's field, where he - was planting com and burning stumps, when a negro—one of Captain - Duncan's hands—passed on a mule. I didn't hear what he said, but - when I came to Sim he had stopped ploughing and was leaning over the - fence, saying, 'Awful, horrible,' and so on. I asked him what had - happened, and he told me.” The girl dropped her eyes, her words hung in - her throat, and she put a slender, tapering, though firm and sun-browned, - hand to her lips. - </p> - <p> - “Go on,” Floyd urged her. “Tompkins said—” - </p> - <p> - “He said”—Cynthia swallowed—“that you and Jeff Wade had had - words in front of the store and that Wade had shot and <i>killed you</i>. - I—I—didn't stop to inquire of any one—I thought it was - true—and came on here. When I saw you just then absolutely unharmed, - I—I—of course it surprised me—or, I mean—” - </p> - <p> - “How ridiculous!” Floyd laughed mechanically. “There is some mistake, - Cynthia. People always get things crooked. That shows how little truth - there is in reports. Wade came in here and paid his bill, and did not even - speak to me, or I to him.” - </p> - <p> - “But I heard the shots myself, away down the road,” said the girl; “and as - I got near the store I saw a group of men in front of the door. They were - pointing down at the sidewalk, and one of them said, 'Jeff stood right - there and fired three times.'” - </p> - <p> - Floyd laughed again, while her lynx eyes slowly probed his face. He - pointed at the court-house door. “Cynthia, do you see that envelope? Wade - was shooting at it. I haven't been over to see yet, but they say he put - three balls close together in its centre. We ought to incorporate this - place into a town, so that a thing of this sort wouldn't be allowed.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that was it!” Cynthia exclaimed, in a full breath of relief. “I - suppose you think I'm a goose to be so scared at nothing.” - </p> - <p> - His face clouded over, his eyes went down. A customer was going into the - store, and he walked on to the street corner with her before replying. - Then he said: “I'm glad, though, Cynthia, that you felt badly, as I see - you did, when you thought I was done for. Good-bye, I am going to beg you - to let me see you again before long, even if your mother <i>does</i> - object.” - </p> - <p> - As they walked away out of his sight Pole Baker lowered his shaggy head to - his brawny hands, his elbows resting on his knees. - </p> - <p> - “Demed fool!” he exclaimed. “Right now, with his head in the very jaws o' - death, he goes on talkin' sweet stuff to women. A purty face, a saft - voice, an' a pair o' dreamy eyes would lead that man right into the fire - o' hell itself. But that hain't the p'int. Pole Baker, he's yore friend, - an' Jeff Wade is a-goin' to kill 'im jest as shore as preachin'.” - </p> - <p> - When Pole left the store he saw nothing of Floyd, but he noticed something - else. He was passing Thigpen's bar, and through the open door-way he - caught sight of a row of flasks and bottles behind the counter. A - seductive, soothing odor greeted him; there was a merry clicking of - billiard-balls in the rear, the thunderous thumping of cues on the floor, - and joyous laughter. Pole hesitated and then plunged in. At any rate, he - told himself, one drink would steady his nerves and show him some way - perhaps to rescue his friend from his overhanging peril. Pole took his - drink and sat down. Then a friend came in and gave him two or three more. - </p> - <p> - It was the beginning of another of Pole's prolonged sprees. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span> was Sunday - morning a week later. Springtown's principal church stood in the edge of - the village on the red-clay road leading up the mountain-side, now in the - delicate green dress of spring, touched here and there by fragrant - splotches of pink honeysuckle and white, dark-eyed dog-wood blossoms. The - building was a diminutive affair, with five shuttered windows on either - side, a pulpit at one end, and a door at the other. A single aisle cut the - rough benches into two parts, one side being occupied by the men, and the - other by the women. The only exception to this rule was the bench - reserved, as if by common consent, for Captain Duncan, who always sat with - his family, as did any male guests who attended service with them. - </p> - <p> - The Rev. Jason Hillhouse was the regular pastor. He was under thirty years - of age, very tall, slight of build, and of nervous temperament. He wore - the conventional black frock-coat, high-cut waistcoat, black necktie, and - gray trousers. He was popular. He had applied himself closely to the - duties of his calling and was considered a man of character and worth. - While not a college graduate, he was yet sufficiently well-read in the - Bible and religious literature to suit even the more progressive of - mountain church-goers. He differed radically from many of the young - preachers who were living imitations of that noted evangelist, the Rev. - Tom P. Smith, “the whirlwind preacher,” in that he was conservative in the - selection of topics for discourse and in his mild delivery. - </p> - <p> - To-day he was at his best. Few in the congregation suspected it, but, if - he distributed his glances evenly over the upturned faces, his thoughts - were focussed on only one personality—that of modest Cynthia Porter, - who, in a becoming gray gown, sat with her mother on the third bench from - the front. Mrs. Porter, a woman of fifty-five years of age, was very - plainly attired in a calico dress, to which she had added no ornament of - any kind. She wore a gingham poke-bonnet, the hood of which hid her face - even from the view of the minister. Her husband, old Nathan Porter, sat - directly across the aisle from her. He was one of the roughest-looking men - in the house. He had come without his coat, and wore no collar or - neck-tie, and for comfort, as the day was warm, he had even thrown off the - burden of his suspenders and they lay in careless loops about his hips. He - had a broad expanse of baldness, to the edge of which hung a narrow fringe - of white hair, and a healthful, pink complexion, and mild, blue eyes. - </p> - <p> - When the sermon was over and the doxology sung, the preacher stepped down - into the congregation to take the numerous hands cordially extended to - him. While he was thus engaged old Mayhew came from the “amen corner,” on - the right, and nodded and smiled patronizingly. - </p> - <p> - “You did pretty well to-day, young man,” he said. “I like doctrinal talks. - There's no getting around good, sound doctrine, Hillhouse. We'd have less - lawlessness if we could keep our people filled plumb-full of sound - doctrine. But you don't look like you've been eating enough, my boy. Come - home with me and I'll give you a good dinner. I heard a fat hen squeal - early this morning, as my cook, old Aunt Nancy, jerked her head off. It - looks a pity to take life on a Sunday, but if that hen had been allowed to - live she might have broken a commandment by hunting for worms on this day - of rest. So the divine intention may be carried out, after all. Come on - with me.” - </p> - <p> - “I can't, Brother Mayhew, not to-day, thank you.” The young man flushed as - his glance struggled on to the Porters, who were waiting near the door. - “The fact is, I've already accepted an invitation.” - </p> - <p> - “From somebody with a girl in the family, I'll bet,” Mayhew laughed, as he - playfully thrust the crooked end of his walking-stick against the - preacher's side. - </p> - <p> - “I wish I knew why women are so dead-set on getting a preacher in the - family. It may be because they know they will be provided for, after some - fashion or other, by the church at large, in case of death or accident.” - </p> - <p> - The preacher laughed as he moved on shaking hands and dispensing cheery - words of welcome right and left. Presently the way was clear and he found - himself near Cynthia and her mother. - </p> - <p> - “Sorry to keep you standing here,” he said, his color rising higher as he - took the hand of the girl and shook it. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it doesn't matter at all, Brother Hillhouse,” the old woman assured - him. “I'll go on an' overtake Mr. Porter; you and Cynthia can stroll home - by the shadiest way. You needn't walk fast; you'll get hot if you do. - Cynthia, I won't need you before dinner. I've got everything ready, with - nothing to do but lay back the cloth and push the plates into their - places. I want Brother Hillhouse just to taste that pound-cake you made. - I'm a good hand at desserts myself, Brother Hillhouse, but she can beat me - any day in the week.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I know Miss Cynthia can cook,” said the minister. “At the picnic at - Cohutta Springs last week she took the prize on her fried chicken.” - </p> - <p> - “I told you all that mother fried that chicken,” said the girl, - indifferently. She had seen Nelson Floyd mounting his fine Kentucky horse - among the trees across the street, and had deliberately turned her back - towards him. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I believe I <i>did</i> fix the chicken,” Mrs. Porter admitted, “but - she made the custards and the cake and icing, besides the poor girl was - having a lot of trouble with her dress. She washed and did up that muslin - twice—the iron spoiled it the first time. I declare I'd have been - out of heart, but she was cheerful all through it. There is Nathan now. He - never will go home by himself; he is afraid I'll lag behind and he'll get - a late dinner.” - </p> - <p> - “How are you to-day, Brother Porter?” Hillhouse asked as they came upon - the old man, under the trees, a little way from the church. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I'm about as common,” was the drawling answer. “You may notice that I - limp a little in my left leg. Ever since I had white-swellin' I've had - trouble with that self-same leg. I wish you folks would jest stop an' take - a peep at it. It looks to me like the blood's quit circulatin' in it. It - went to sleep while you was a-talkin' this mornin'—now, I'll swear I - didn't mean that as a reflection.” He laughed dryly as he paused at a - fallen tree and put his foot upon it and started to roll up the leg of his - trousers, but his wife drew him on impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder what you'll do next!” she said, reprovingly. “This is no time - and place for that. What would the Duncans think if they were to drive by - while you were doing the like of that on a public road? Come on with me, - and let's leave the young folks to themselves.” - </p> - <p> - Grumblingly Porter obeyed. His wife walked briskly and made him keep pace - with her, and they were soon several yards ahead of the young couple. - Hillhouse was silent for several minutes, and his smooth-shaven face was - quite serious in expression. - </p> - <p> - “I'm afraid I'm going to bore you on that same old line, Miss Cynthia,” he - said, presently. “Really, I can't well help it. This morning I fancied you - listened attentively to what I was saying.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, I always do that,” the girl returned, with an almost perceptible - shudder of her shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “It helped me wonderfully, Miss Cynthia, and once a hope actually flashed - through me so strong that I lost my place. You may have seen me turning - the pages of the Bible. I was trying to think where I'd left off. The hope - was this: that some day if I keep on begging you, and showing my deep - respect and regard, you will not turn me away. Just for one minute this - morning it seemed to me that you had actually consented, and—and the - thought was too much for me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don't say any more about it, Mr. Hillhouse,” Cynthia pleaded, giving - him a full look from her wonderful brown eyes. “I have already said as - much as I can on that subject.” - </p> - <p> - “But I've known many of the happiest marriages to finally result from - nothing but the sheer persistence of the man concerned,” the preacher went - on, ardently, “and when I think of <i>that</i> I <i>live</i>, Miss Cynthia—I - live! And when I think of the chance of losing you it nearly drives me - crazy. I can't help feeling that way. You are simply all I care for on - earth. Do you remember when I first met you? It was at Hattie Mayfield's - party just after I got this appointment; we sat on the porch alone and - talked. I reckon it was merely your respect for my calling that made you - so attentive, but I went home that night out of my head with admiration. - Then I saw that Frank Miller was going with you everywhere, and that - people thought you were engaged, and, as I did not admire his moral - character, I was very miserable in secret. Then I saw that he stopped, and - I got it from a reliable source that you had turned him down because you - didn't want to marry such a man, and my hopes and admiration climbed still - higher. You had proved that you were the kind of woman for a preacher's - wife—the kind of woman I've always dreamed of having as my companion - in life.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't love him, that was all,” Cynthia said, quietly. “It would not - have been fair to him or myself to have received his constant attentions.” - </p> - <p> - “But now I am down in the dregs again, Miss Cynthia.” Hillhouse gave a - sigh. It was almost a groan. - </p> - <p> - She glanced at him once, and then lowered her eyes half fearfully to the - ground. And, getting his breath rapidly, the preacher bent more closely - over her shoulder, as if to catch some reply from her lips. She made none. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I'm in the dregs again—miserable, afraid, jealous! You know - why, Miss Cynthia. You know that any lover would be concerned to see the - girl upon whom he had based his every hope going often with Nelson Floyd, - a man about whom people say—” - </p> - <p> - “Stop!” the girl turned upon him suddenly and gazed into his eyes - steadily. “If you have anything to say against him, don't do it to me. - He's my friend, and I will not listen to anything against those I like.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm not going to criticise him.” Hillhouse bit his white, unsteady lip, - as he pinched it between his thumb and index finger. “A man's a fool that - will try to win a woman by running down his rival. The way to run a man up - in a woman's eye is to openly run him down. Men are strong enough to bear - such things, but women don't think so. They shelter them like they do - their babies. No, I wasn't going to run him down, but I am afraid of him. - When you go out driving with him, I—” - </p> - <p> - Again Cynthia turned upon him and looked at him steadily, her eyes - flashing. “Don't go too far; you might regret it,” she said. “It is an - insult to be spoken to as you are speaking to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don't, don't! You misunderstand me,” protested the bewildered lover. - “I—I am not afraid of—you understand, of course, I'm not - afraid you will not be able to—to take care of yourself, but he has - so many qualities that win and attract women that—Oh, I'm jealous, - Miss Cynthia, that's the whole thing in a nutshell. He has the reputation - of being a great favorite with all women, and now that he seems to admire - you more than any of the rest—” The girl raised her eyes from the - ground; a touch of color rose to her cheeks. “He doesn't admire me more - than the others,” she said, tentatively. “You are mistaken, Mr. - Hillhouse.” - </p> - <p> - He failed to note her rising color, the subtle eagerness oozing from her - compact self-control. - </p> - <p> - “No, I'm not blind,” he went on, blindly building up his rival's cause. - “He admires you extravagantly—he couldn't help it. You are - beautiful, you have vivacity, womanly strength, and a thousand other - qualities that are rare in this out-of-the-way place. Right here I want to - tell you something. I know you will laugh, for you don't seem to care for - such things, but you know Colonel Price is quite an expert on genealogical - matters. He's made a great study of it, and his chief hobby is that many - of these sturdy mountain people are the direct descendants of fine old - English families from younger sons, you know, who settled first in - Virginia and North Carolina, and then drifted into this part of Georgia. - He didn't know of my admiration for you, but one day, at the meeting of - the Confederate Veterans at Springtown, he saw you on the platform with - the other ladies, and he said: 'I'll tell you, Hill-house, right there is - a living proof of what I have always argued. That daughter of Nathan - Porter has a face that is as patrician as any woman of English royal - birth. I understand,' the colonel went on to say, 'that her mother was a - Radcliffe, which is one of the best and most historic of the Virginia - families, and Porter, as rough as he is, comes from good old English - stock.' Do you wonder, Cynthia, that I agree with him? There really is - good blood in you. Your grandmother is one of the most refined and gentle - old ladies I have ever met anywhere, and I have been about a good deal.” - </p> - <p> - “I am not sure that Colonel Price is right,” the girl responded. “I've - heard something of that kind before. I think Colonel Price had an article - in one of the Atlanta papers about it, with a list of old family names. My - father knows little or nothing about his ancestry, but my grandmother has - always said her forefathers were wealthy people. She remembers her - grandmother as being a fine old lady who, poor as she was, tried to make - her and the other children wear their bonnets and gloves in the sun to - keep their complexions white. But I don't like to discuss that sort of - thing, Mr. Hillhouse. It won't do in America. I think we are what we make - <i>ourselves</i>, not what others have made of <i>themselves.</i> One is - individuality, the other open imitation.” - </p> - <p> - The young man laughed. “That's all very fine,” he said. “When it was your - forefathers who made it possible for you to have the mental capacity for - the very opinion you have just expressed. At any rate, there is a little - comfort in your view, for if you were to pride yourself on Price's - theories, as many a woman would, you might look higher than a poor - preacher with such an untraceable name as mine. And you know, ordinary as - it is, you have simply got to wear it sooner or later.” - </p> - <p> - “You must not mention that again,” Cynthia said, firmly. “I tell you, I am - not good enough for a minister's wife. There is a streak of worldliness in - me that I shall never overcome.” - </p> - <p> - “That cuts me like a knife,” said Hillhouse. “It hurts because it reminds - me of something I once heard Pole Baker say in a group at the post-office. - He said that women simply do not like what is known as a 'goody-goody' - man. Sometimes as coarse a fellow as Pole hits the nail of truth on the - head while a better-educated man would miss and mash his thumb. But if I - am in the pulpit, I'm only human. It seemed to me the other day when I saw - you and Nelson Floyd driving alone up the mountain that the very fires of - hell itself raged inside of me. I always hold family prayer at home for - the benefit of my mother and sister, but that night I cut it out, and lay - on the bed rolling and tossing like a crazy man. He's handsome, Miss - Cynthia, and he has a soft voice and a way of making all women sympathize - with him—why they do it, I don't know. It's true he's had a most - miserable childhood, but he is making money hand over hand now, and has - everything in his favor.” - </p> - <p> - “He's not a happy man, Mr. Hillhouse; any one who knows him can see that.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I suppose he broods over the mystery that hangs over his origin,” - said the preacher. “That's only natural for an ambitious man. I once knew - a fellow who was a foundling, and he told me he never intended to get - married on that account. He was morbidly sensitive about it, but it is - different with Floyd. He <i>does</i> know his name, at least, and he will, - no doubt, discover his relatives some day. But it hurts me to see you with - him so much.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, he goes with other girls,” Cynthia said, her lips set together - tightly, her face averted. - </p> - <p> - “And perhaps you know, Miss Cynthia, that people talk about some of the - girls he has been with.” - </p> - <p> - “I know that,” said the girl, looking at him with an absent glance. “There - is no use going over it. I hear nothing all day long at home except that—that—that! - Oh, sometimes I wish I were dead!” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, that hurts worse than anything I have heard you say,” declared the - minister, stroking his thin face with an unsteady hand. “Why should a - beautiful, pure, human flower like you be made unhappy because of contact - with a—” - </p> - <p> - “Stop, I tell you, stop!” the girl stared at him with flashing eyes. “I am - not going to have you talk to me as if I were a child. I know him as well - as you do. You constantly preach that a person ought to be forgiven of his - sins, and yet you want to load some people down with theirs—that is, - when it suits you. He has as good a right to—to—to reform as - any one, and I myself have heard you say that the vilest sin often - purifies and lifts one up. Don't get warped all to one side, Mr. - Hillhouse. I shall not respect your views any more if you do.” - </p> - <p> - The minister was white in the face and trembling helplessly. - </p> - <p> - “You are tying me hand and foot,” he said, with a sigh. “If I ever had a - chance to gain my desires I am killing them, but God knows I can't help - it. I am fighting for my life.” - </p> - <p> - “And behind another's back,” added the girl, bravely. “You've got to be - fair to him. As for myself, I don't believe half the things that the - busy-bodies have said about him. Let me tell you something.” They had come - to a little brook which they had to cross on brown, almost submerged - stepping-stones, and she paused, turned to him and laid her small hand on - his arm, and said, portentously: “Nelson Floyd has been alone with me - several times, and has never yet told me that he loved me.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm not going to say what is in my mind,” Hill-house said, with a cold, - significant, even triumphant sneer on his white lip, as he took her hand - and helped her across the stream. - </p> - <p> - “You say you won't?” Cynthia gave him her eyes, almost pleadingly. - </p> - <p> - “That is, not unless you will let me be plain with you,” Hillhouse - answered, “as plain as I'd be to my sister.” - </p> - <p> - They walked on side by side in silence, now very near her father's house. - </p> - <p> - “You may as well finish what you were going to say,” the girl gave in, - with a sigh of resignation not untinged with a curiosity which had - devoured her precaution. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I was going to say that, if what I have gathered here and there is - true, it is Nelson Floyd's favorite method to <i>look</i>, do you - understand?—to <i>look</i>, not talk love to the girls he goes with. - He has never, it seems, committed himself by a scratch of a pen or by word - of mouth, and yet every silly woman he has paid attention to (before he - began to go with you) has secretly sworn to herself that she was the world - and all to him.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia's face became grave. Her glance went down, and for a moment she - seemed incapable of speech. Finally, however, her color rose, and she - laughed defiantly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, here is a girl, Mr. Hillhouse, who will not be fooled that way, you - may rely on that. So don't, worry about me. I'll take care of myself.” - </p> - <p> - “I've no doubt you will,” said the preacher, gloomily. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you'll see that I can,” Cynthia declared, with animation. “There's - mother on the porch. Good gracious! do change the subject. If she sets in - on it, I'll not come to the table. Like you, she believes all she has - heard against him. She likes you and hates the ground he walks on.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps that, too, will be my damnation,” Hill-house retorted. “I know - something about human nature. I may see the day that I'd be glad of a - doubtful reputation.” - </p> - <p> - He caught her reproachful glance at this remark as he opened the gate for - her and followed her in. Porter sat on the porch in the shade reading a - newspaper, and his wife stood in the door-way. - </p> - <p> - “Run in and take off your things, Cynthia,” Mrs. Porter said, with a - welcoming smile. “Brother Hillhouse can sit with your pa till we call - dinner. I want you to help me a little bit. Your grandmother is lying - down, and doesn't feel well enough to come to the table.” - </p> - <p> - When the women had gone in, and the preacher had seated himself in a - rough, hide-bottomed chair near his host, Porter, with a chuckle, reached - down to the floor and picked up a short, smooth stick, to the end of which - was attached a piece of leather about three inches wide and four inches - long. - </p> - <p> - “That's an invention o' mine,” Porter explained, proudly, as he tapped his - knee with the leather. “Brother Hillhouse, ef you was to offer me a new - five-dollar note fer this thing, an' I couldn't git me another, I'd refuse - p'int blank.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't say,” said Hillhouse, concentrating his attention to the - article by strong effort; “what is it for?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know any other name fer it than a 'fly-flap,'” said Porter. “I - set here one day tryin' to read, an' the flies made sech a dead-set at my - bald head that it mighty nigh driv' me crazy. I kept fightin' 'em with my - paper an' knockin' my specks off an' losin' my place at sech a rate that I - got to studyin' how to git out of the difficulty, fer thar was a long - fly-spell ahead of us. Well, I invented this thing, an' I give you my word - it's as good fun as goin' a-fishin'. I kin take it in my hand—this - away—an' hold the paper, too, an' the minute one o' the devilish - things lights on my scalp, I kin give a twist o' the wrist an' that fly's - done fer. You see the leather is too flat an' saft to hurt <i>me</i>, an' - I never seed a fly yit that was nimble enough to git out from under it. - But my fun is mighty nigh over,” Porter went on. “Flies has got sense; - they profit by experience the same as folks does; at any rate, they seem - to know thar's a dead-fall set on my bald-spot, an' they've quit tryin' to - lay the'r eggs in the root-holes o' my hair. Only now and then a newcomer - is foolhardy and inclined to experiment. The old customers are as scared - o' my head as they are of a spider-web.” - </p> - <p> - “It certainly is a rare device,” said Hillhouse. “I don't know that I ever - heard of one before.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon not,” the farmer returned, placidly. “Somebody always has to - lead out in matters of improvement. My wife an' daughter was dead-set agin - me usin' it at fust. They never looked into the workin' of it close, an' - thought I mashed my prey on my head, but thar never was a bigger mistake. - The flap don't even puncture the skin, as tender as the'r hides are. I - know it don't, beca'se they always fall flat o' the'r backs an' kick - awhile before givin' up. I invented another thing that I value mighty nigh - as high as I do this. I never have seed another one o' them in use, - nuther. It's in my room in the bureau-drawer. It's a back-scratcher. It's - got a long, white-oak handle, like this, an' a little, rake-shaped trick - with hickory teeth at the end. Well, sir, you may not believe it, but I - kin shove that thing down under my shirt an' hit a ticklin' spot before - you kin bat yore eye, while I used to rub the bark off'n the trees, all - about, in my effort to git bodily relief. You may 'a' seed me leave - meetin' right in the middle o' some o' yore talks. Well, that's beca'se my - wife an' Cynthia won't let me take it to church with me. They'd a thousand - times ruther I'd go outside an' rub agin a tree like a razor-back shote - than have me do a thing that the Prices an' Duncans hain't accustomed to. - Sech folks are agin progress.” - </p> - <p> - Hillhouse laughed obligingly, his mind on what Cynthia had said to him, - and then Mrs. Porter came to the door and announced that dinner was - served. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - V - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>OLE BAKER decided - to give the young people of the neighborhood a “corn-shucking.” He had - about fifty bushels of the grain which he said had been mellowing and - sweetening in the husk all the winter, and, as the market-price had - advanced from sixty to seventy-five cents, he decided to sell. - </p> - <p> - Pole's corn-shuckings were most enjoyable festivities. Mrs. Baker usually - had some good refreshments and the young people came for miles around. The - only drawback about the affairs was that Pole seldom had much corn to - husk, and the fun was over too soon. The evening chosen for the present - gathering was favored with clear moonlight and delightfully balmy weather, - and when Nelson Floyd walked over after working an hour on his books at - the store, he found a merry group in Pole's front-yard. - </p> - <p> - “Yo're jest in time,” Pole called out to him, as he threw the frail gate - open for the guest to pass through. “I was afeared thar was a few more - petticoats than pants to string around my pile o' corn, an' you'll help - even up. Come on, all of you, let's mosey on down to the barn. Sally,” he - called out to his wife, a sweet-faced woman on the porch, “put them - childern to sleep an' come on.” - </p> - <p> - With merry laughter the young men and girls made a rush in the direction - of the barn. Nelson Floyd, with a sudden throbbing of the heart, had - noticed Cynthia Porter in the group, and as he and Baker fell in behind he - asked: “Who came with Cynthia Porter, Pole?” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody,” said Baker. “She come over jest 'fore dark by the short-cut - through the meadow. I'll bet a hoss you are thinkin' o' galavantin' 'er - back home.” - </p> - <p> - “That's what I came for,” said Floyd, with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm sorry, fer this once,” said Pole; “but I cayn't alter my plans - fer friend or foe. I don't have but one shuckin' a year, an' on that - occasion I'm a-goin' to be plumb fair to all that accept my invite. You - may git what you want, but you'll have to stand yore chance with the - balance. I'll announce my rules in a minute, an' then you'll understand - what I mean.” - </p> - <p> - They had now reached the great cone of com heaped up at the door of the - barn, and the merrymakers were dancing around it in the moonlight, - clapping their hands and singing. - </p> - <p> - “Halt one minute!” Pole called out peremptorily, and there was silence. - “Now,” he continued, “all of you set down on the straw an' listen to my - new rules. I've been studyin' these out ever since my last shuckin', an' - these will beat all. Now listen! Time is a great improver, an' we all - don't have to-shuck corn jest like our granddaddies did. I want to make - this thing interest you, fer that pile o' corn has to be shucked an' - throwed into the barn 'fore you leave yore places.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I wouldn't preach a sermon fust,” laughed Mrs. Baker, as she - appeared suddenly. “Boys an' gals that git together fer a good time don't - want to listen to an old married man talk.” - </p> - <p> - “But one married man likes to listen to <i>that woman</i> talk, folks,” - Pole broke in, “fer her voice makes sweet music to his ear. That's a fact, - gentlemen an' ladies; here's one individual that could set an' listen to - that sweet woman's patient voice from dark to sun-up, an' then pray fer - more dark, an' more talk. I hain't the right sort of a man to yoke to, but - she is the right sort of a woman. They hain't all that way, though, boys, - an' I'd advise you that are worthy of a good helpmate to think an' look - before you plunge into matrimony. Matrimony is like a sheet of ice, which, - until you bust it, may cover pure, runnin' water or a stagnant mud-hole. - Before marriage a woman will say yes an' no, as meek as that entire bunch - of females. Sugar wouldn't melt in 'er mouth, but when she hooks her fish - she'll do her best to make a sucker out'n it ef it's a brook trout at the - start. I mean a certain <i>kind</i> of a woman, now; but thank the Lord, - He made the other sort, too, an' the other sort, boys, is what you ort to - look fer. I heard a desperate old bach say once that he believed he'd - stand a better chance o' gittin' a good female nature under a homely - exterior than under a pretty one, an' he was on the rampage fer a snaggle - tooth; but I don't know. A nature that's made jest by a face won't endure - one way or another long. Thar's my little neighbor over thar, ef she don't - combine both a purty face an' a sweet, patient nature I'm no judge.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, Pole, Cynthia don't want you to single her out in public that - away,” protested Mrs. Baker. - </p> - <p> - “He's simply bent on flattering more work out of me,” responded Cynthia, - quite adroitly, Floyd thought, as he noted her blushes in the moonlight. - “We are waiting for your rules, Mr. Baker.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” spoke up Floyd, “give us the rules, and let us go to work, and then - you can talk all you want to.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, here goes. Well, you are all settin' about the same distance - from the pile, an' you've got an equal chance. Now, the fust man or woman - who finds a red ear of corn must choose a partner to work with, an', - furthermore, it shall be the duty o' the man to escort the girl home, an' - in addition to that the winnin' man shall be entitled to kiss any girl in - the crowd, an' she hereby pledges herself to submit graceful. It's a - bang-up good rule, fer them that want to be kissed kin take a peep at the - ear 'fore it's shucked, an' throw it to any man they like, an' them that - don't kin hope fer escape by blind luck from sech an awful fate.” - </p> - <p> - “I think, myself, that it would be an awful fate to be kissed by a man you - didn't care for,” laughed Mrs. Baker. “Pole has made his rules to suit the - men better than the women.” - </p> - <p> - “The second rule is this,” added Pole, with a smile, “an' that is, that - whoever finds a red ear, man or woman, I git to kiss my wife.” - </p> - <p> - “Good, that's all right!” exclaimed Floyd, and everybody laughed as they - set to work. Pole sat down near Floyd, and filled and lighted his pipe. “I - used to think everything was fair in a game whar gals was concerned,” he - said in an undertone. “I went to a shuckin' once whar they had these rules - an' I got on to exactly what I see you are on to.” - </p> - <p> - “Me? What do you mean?” asked Floyd. “Why, you sly old dog, you are not - shuckin' more than one ear in every three you pick up. You are lookin' to - see ef the silk is dark. You have found out that a red ear always has dark - silk.” Floyd laughed. “Don't give me away, Pole. I learned that when old - man Scott used to send me out on a frosty morning to feed the cattle.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I won't say nothin',” Pole promised. “Ef money was at stake, it 'ud - be different, but they say all's fair whar wine an' women is concerned. - Besides, the sharper a man is the better he'll provide fer the wife he - gits, an' a man ought to be allowed to profit by his own experience. You - go ahead; ef you root a red ear out o' that pile, old hog, I'll count you - in.” Pole rose and went round the other side of the stack. There was a - soft rustling sound as the husks were torn away and swept in rising - billows behind the workers, and the steady thumping of the ears as they - fell inside the barn. - </p> - <p> - It was not a fair game he was playing, and yet Nelson Floyd cared little - for that. Even as it was, it was growing monotonous. He had come there to - see Cynthia, and Pole's new rule was not what he had counted on. There was - a lull in the merriment and general rustle, and Floyd heard Hattie Mayhew - say in a clear tone: “I know why Cynthia is so quiet. It's because there - wasn't somebody here to open with prayer.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd was watching Cynthia's face, and he saw it cloud over for a moment. - She made some forced reply which he could not hear. It was Kitty Welborn's - voice that came to him on her merry laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, Cynthia has us all beaten badly!” said that little blonde. “We - worked our fingers to the bones fixing up his room. Cynthia didn't lay her - hand to it, and yet he never looks at any one else while he is preaching, - and as soon as the sermon is over he rushes for her. They say Mr. Porter - thinks Mr. Hillhouse is watching him, and has quit going to sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “That's a fact,” said Fred Denslow, as he aimed a naked ear of corn at the - barn-door and threw it. “The boys say Hillhouse will even let 'em cuss - before him, just so they will listen to what he says about Miss Cynthia.” - </p> - <p> - “That isn't fair to Miss Cynthia,” Nelson Floyd observed, suddenly. “I'm - afraid you are making it pretty hot for her on that side, so I'm going to - invite her over here. You see I have found the first red ear of corn, and - it's big enough to count double.” - </p> - <p> - There was a general shout and clapping of hands as Floyd held it up to - view in the moonlight. He put it into the pocket of his coat, as he rose - and moved round towards Cynthia. Bending down to her, he said: “Come on, - you've got to obey the rules of the game, you know.” - </p> - <p> - She allowed him to draw her to her feet. - </p> - <p> - “Now fer the fust act?” Pole Baker cried out. “I hain't a-goin' to have no - bashful corn-shuckers. Ef you balk or kick over a trace, I'll leave you - out next time, shore.” - </p> - <p> - “You didn't make a thoroughly fair rule, Pole,” said Floyd. “The days of - woman slavery are past. I shall not take advantage of the situation, for I - know Miss Cynthia is praying for mercy right now.” Everybody laughed as - Floyd led the girl round to his place and raked up a pile of shucks for - her to sit on. - </p> - <p> - “Well, there ought to have been another rule,” laughed Fred Denslow, “an' - to the effect that if the winning man, through sickness, lack of backbone, - or sudden death, was prevented from takin' the prize, somebody else ought - to have had a chance. Here I've been workin' like a corn-field negro to - win, and now see the feller Heaven has smiled on throwin' that sort of a - flower away. Good gracious, what's the world comin' to?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll have <i>mine</i>, anyway,” Pole Baker was heard to say, and he - took his little wife in his arms and kissed her tenderly. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>EFRESHMENTS had - been served, the last ear of com husked and thrown into the bam, and they - had all risen to depart, when Hillhouse hurried down the path from the - cottage. He was panting audibly, and had evidently been walking fast. He - shook hands perfunctorily with Pole and his wife, and then turned to - Cynthia. - </p> - <p> - “I'm just from your house,” he said, “and I promised your mother to come - over after you. I was afraid I'd be late. The distance round by the road - is longer than I thought.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm afraid you <i>are</i> too late,” said Floyd, with a polite smile. “I - was lucky enough to find the first red ear of corn, and the reward was - that I might take home any one I asked. I assure you I'll see that Miss - Cynthia is well taken care of.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! I—I see.” The preacher seemed stunned by the disappointment. “I - didn't know; I thought—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Floyd has won fast enough,” said Pole. “An' he's acted the part of - the gentleman all through.” Pole explained what Floyd had done in excusing - Miss Cynthia from the principal forfeit he had won. - </p> - <p> - But Hillhouse seemed unable to reply. The young people were moving towards - the cottage, and he fell behind Floyd and his partner, walking along with - the others and saying nothing. - </p> - <p> - It was a lonely, shaded road which Floyd and his companion traversed to - reach her home. - </p> - <p> - “My luck turned just in the nick of time,” he said, exultantly. “I went - there, Cynthia, especially to talk with you, and I was mad enough to fight - when I saw how Pole had arranged everything. Then, by good-fortune and - cheating, I found that red ear; and, well, here we are. You have no idea - how pretty you look, with your hair—” - </p> - <p> - “Stop, don't begin that!” Cynthia suddenly commanded, and she turned her - eyes upon him steadily. - </p> - <p> - “Stop? Why do you say that?” - </p> - <p> - “Because you talk that way to all the girls, and I don't want to hear it.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd laughed. “I declare you are a strange little creature. You simply - won't let me be nice to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm sure I don't like you when you speak that way,” the girl said, - seriously. “It sounds insincere—it makes me doubt you more than - anything else.” - </p> - <p> - “Then some things about me <i>don't</i> make you doubt me,” he said, with - tentative eagerness. - </p> - <p> - She was silent for a moment, then she nodded her head. “I'll admit that - some things I hear of you make me rather admire you, in a way.” - </p> - <p> - “Please tell me what they are,” he said, with a laugh. - </p> - <p> - “I've heard, for one thing, of your being very good and kind to poor - people—people who Mr. Mayhew would have turned out of their homes - for debt if you hadn't interfered.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that was only business, Cynthia,” Floyd laughed. “I simply can see - farther than the old man can—that's all. He thought those customers - never would be able to pay, but I knew they would some day, and, moreover, - that they would come up with the back interest.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't believe it,” the girl said, firmly. “Those things make me rather - like you, while the others make—they make me—doubt.” - </p> - <p> - “Doubt? Oh, you odd little woman!” They had reached a spring which flowed - from a great bed of rocks in the side of a rugged hill. He pointed to a - flat stone quite near it. “Do you remember, Cynthia, the first time I ever - had a talk with you? It was while we were seated on this very rock.” - </p> - <p> - She recalled it, but only nodded her head. - </p> - <p> - “It was a year ago,” he pursued. “You had on a pink dress and wore your - hair like a little girl in a plait down your back. Cynthia, you were the - prettiest creature I had ever seen. I could hardly talk to you for - wondering over your dazzling beauty. You are even more beautiful now; you - have ripened; you are the most graceful woman I ever saw, and your mouth!—Cynthia, - I'll swear you have the most maddening mouth God ever made out of flesh, - blood and—soul!” He caught her hand impulsively and sat down on the - stone, drawing her steadily towards him. - </p> - <p> - She hesitated, looking back towards Baker's cottage. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down, little girl,” he entreated, “I'm tired. I've worked hard all - day at the store, and that corn-shucking wasn't the best thing to taper - off on.” She hesitated an instant longer, and then allowed him to draw her - down beside him. “There, now,” he said. “That is more like it.” He still - held her hand; it lay warm, pulsating and helpless in his strong, feverish - grasp. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know why I did not kiss you back there?” he asked, suddenly. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know why you didn't, but it was good of you,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - “No, it wasn't,” he laughed. “I won't take credit for what I don't - deserve. I simply put it off, Cynthia—put it off. I knew we would be - alone on our way home, and that you would not refuse me.” - </p> - <p> - “But I shall!” she said, with a start. “I'm not going to let you kiss me - here in—in this way.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you'll not pay the forfeit you owe,” he said, fondling her hand. - “I've always considered you fair in everything, and, Cynthia, you don't - know how much I want to kiss you. No, you won't refuse me—you - can't.” His left arm was behind her, and it encircled her waist. She made - an effort to draw herself erect, but he drew her closer to him. Her head - sank upon his shoulder and lay there while he pressed his lips to hers. - </p> - <p> - Then she sat up, and firmly pushed his arm down from her waist. - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry I let you do it,” she said, under her breath. - </p> - <p> - “But why, darling?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I've said a thousand times that I would not, but I have—I - <i>have</i>, and I shall hate myself always.” - </p> - <p> - “When you have made me the happiest fellow in the state?” Floyd said, - passionately. “Don't go,” he urged, for she had risen and drawn her hand - from his and turned towards her home. He rose and stood beside her, - suiting his step to hers. - </p> - <p> - “Do you remember the night we sat and talked in the grape-arbor behind - your house?” he asked. “Well, you never knew it, but I've been there three - nights within the last month, hoping that I'd get to see you by some - chance or other. I always work late on my accounts, and when I am through, - and the weather is fine, I walk to your house, climb over the fence, slip - through the orchard, and sit in that arbor, trying to imagine you are - there with me. I often see a light in your room, and the last time I - became so desperate that I actually whistled for you. This way—” He - put his thumb and little finger between his lips and made an imitation of - a whippoorwill's call. “You see, no one could tell that from the real - thing. If you ever hear that sound again in the direction of the - grape-arbor you'll know I need you, little girl, and you must not - disappoint me.” - </p> - <p> - “I'd never respond to it,” Cynthia said, firmly. “The idea of such a - thing!” - </p> - <p> - “But you know I can't go to your house often with your mother opposing my - visits as she does, and when I'm there she never leaves us alone. No, I - must have you to myself once in a while, little woman, and you must help - me. Remember, if I call you, I'll want you badly.” He whistled again, and - the echo came back on the still air from a nearby hill-side. They were - passing a log-cabin which stood a few yards from the road-side. - </p> - <p> - “Budd Crow moved there to-day,” Cynthia said, as if desirous of changing - the subject. “He rented twenty acres from my father. The 'White Caps' - whipped him a week ago, for being lazy and not working for his family. His - wife came over and told me all about it. She said it really had brought - him to his senses, but that it had broken her heart. She cried while she - was talking to me. Why does God afflict some women with men of that kind, - and make others the wives of governors and presidents?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, there you are beyond my philosophic depth, Cynthia. You mustn't - bother your pretty head about those things. I sometimes rail against my - fate for giving me the ambition of a king while I do not even know who—but - I think you know what I mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I think I do,” said the girl, sympathetically, “and some day I - believe all that will be cleared up. Some coarse natures wouldn't care a - straw about it, but you <i>do</i> care, and it is the things we want and - can't get that count.” - </p> - <p> - “It is strange,” he said, thoughtfully, “but of late I always think of my - mother as having been young and beautiful. I think of her, too, as a - well-bred, educated woman with well-to-do relatives. I think all those - things without any proof even as to what her maiden name was or where she - came from. Are you still unhappy at home, Cynthia?” - </p> - <p> - “Nearly all the time,” the girl sighed. “As she grows older my mother gets - more fault-finding and suspicious than ever. Then she has set her mind on - my marrying Mr. Hillhouse. They seem to be working together to that end, - and it is very tiresome to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm glad you don't love him,” Floyd said. “I don't think he could - make any one of your nature happy.” - </p> - <p> - The girl stared into his eyes. They had reached the gate of the farm-house - and he opened it for her. “Now, good-night,” he said, pressing her hand. - “Remember, if you ever hear a lonely whippoorwill calling, that he is - longing for companionship.” - </p> - <p> - She leaned over the gate, drawing it towards her till the iron latch - clicked in its catch. With a shudder she recalled the hot kiss he had - pressed upon her lips, and wondered what he might later think about it. - </p> - <p> - “I'll never meet you there at night,” she said, firmly. “My mother doesn't - treat me right, but I shall not act that way when she is asleep. You may - come to see me here now and then, but it will go no further than that.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I shall sit alone in the arbor,” he returned with a low laugh, “and - I hope your hard heart will keep you awake. I wouldn't treat a hound-dog - that way, little girl.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I shall treat a strong man that way,” she said, and she went into - the house. - </p> - <p> - She opened the front-door, which was never locked, and went into her room - on the right of the little hall. The night was very still, and down the - road she heard Floyd's whippoorwill call growing fainter and fainter as he - strode away. She found a match and lighted the lamp on her bureau and - looked at her reflection in the little oval-shaped mirror. Remembering his - embrace, she shuddered and wiped her lips with her hand. - </p> - <p> - “He'll despise me,” she muttered. “He'll think I am weak, like those other - girls, but I am not. I <i>am not</i>. I'll show him that he can't, and - yet”—her head sank to her hands, which were folded on the top of the - bureau—“I couldn't help it. My God! I couldn't help it. I must have - actually wanted him to—no, I didn't. I didn't; he held me. I had no - idea his arm was behind me till he—” - </p> - <p> - There was a soft step in the hall. The door of her room creaked like the - low scream of a cat. A gaunt figure in white stood on the threshold. It - was Mrs. Porter in her night-dress, her feet bare, her iron-gray hair - hanging loose upon her shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn't go to sleep, Cynthia,” she said, “till I knew you were safe at - home.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm here all right, mother, so go back to bed and don't catch your - death of cold.” - </p> - <p> - The old woman moved across the room to Cynthia's bed and sat down on it. - “I heard you coming down the road and went to the front window. I had sent - Brother Hillhouse for you, but it was Nelson Floyd who brought you home. - Didn't Brother Hillhouse get there before you left?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but I had already promised Mr. Floyd.” The old woman met her - daughter's glance steadily. “I suppose all I'll do or say won't do a bit - o' good. Cynthia, you know what I'm afraid of.” - </p> - <p> - The girl stood straight, her face set and firm, her great, dreamy eyes - flashing. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and that's the insult of it. Mother, you almost make me think you - are judging my nature by your own, when you were at my age. I tell you you - will drive me too far. A girl at a certain time of her life wants a - mother's love and sympathy; she doesn't want threats, fears, and - disgraceful suspicions.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter covered her face with her bony hands and groaned aloud. - </p> - <p> - “You are confessing,” she said, “that you are tied an' bound to him by the - heart and that there isn't anything left for you but the crumbs he lets - fall from his profligate table. You confess that you are lyin' at his - feet, greedily lappin' up what he deigns to drop to you and the rest of - those—” - </p> - <p> - “Stop!” Cynthia sprang to her mother and laid her small hand heavily on - the thin shoulder. “Stop, you know you are telling a deliberate—” - She paused, turned, and went slowly back to the bureau. “God forgive me! - God help me remember my duty to her as my mother. She's old; she's out of - her head.” - </p> - <p> - “There, you said something then!” The old woman had drawn herself erect - and sat staring at her daughter, her hands on her sharp knees. “That - reminds me of something else. You know my sister Martha got to worryin' - when she was along about my age over her law-suit matters, and kept it up - till her brain gave way. Folks always said she and I were alike. Dr. - Strong has told me time after time to guard against worry or I'd go out - and kill myself as she did. I haven't mentioned this before, but I do now. - I can't keep down my fears and suspicions, while the very air is full of - that man's conduct. He's a devil, I tell you—a devil in human shape. - Your pretty face has caught his fancy, and your holding him off, so far, - has made him determined to crush you like a plucked flower. Why don't he - go to the Duncans and the Prices and lay his plans? Because those men - shoot at the drop of a hat. He knows your pa is not of that stamp and that - you haven't any men kin to defend our family honor. He hasn't any of his - own; nobody knows who or what he is. My opinion is that he's a nobody and - knows it, and out of pure spite is trying to pull everybody else down to - his level.” - </p> - <p> - “Mother—” Cynthia's tone had softened. Her face was filling with - sudden pity for the quivering creature on the bed. “Mother, will you not - have faith in me? If I promise you honestly to take care of myself, and - make him understand what and who I am, won't that satisfy you? Even men - with bad reputations have a good side to their natures, and they often - reach a point at which they reform. A man like that interests a woman. I - don't dispute that, but there are strong women and weak women. Mother, I'm - not a weak woman; as God is my judge, I'm able to take care of myself. It - pains me to say this, for you ought to know it; you ought to <i>feel</i> - it. You ought to see it in my eye and hear it in my voice. Now go to bed, - and sleep. I'm really afraid you may lose your mind since you told me - about Aunt Martha.” - </p> - <p> - The face of the old woman changed. It lighted up with sudden hope. - </p> - <p> - “Somehow, I believe what you say,” she said, with a faint smile. “Anyway, - I'll try not to worry any more.” She rose and went to the door. “Yes, I'll - try not to worry any more,” she repeated. “It may all come out right.” - </p> - <p> - When she found herself alone Cynthia turned and looked at her reflection - in the glass. - </p> - <p> - “He didn't once tell me plainly that he loved me,” she said. “He has never - used that word. He has never said that he meant or wanted to mar—” - She broke off, staring into the depths of her own great, troubled eyes—“and - yet I let him hold me in his arms and kiss me—<i>me!</i>” A hot - flush filled her neck and face and spread to the roots of her hair. Then - suddenly she blew out the light and crept to her bed. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N the following - Saturday morning there was, as usual, a considerable gathering of farmers - at Springtown. A heavy fall of rain during the night had rendered the soil - unfit for ploughing, and it was a sort of enforced holiday. Many of them - stood around Mayhew & Floyd's store. Several women and children were - seated between the two long counters, on boxes and the few available - chairs. Nelson Floyd was at the high desk in the rear, occupied with - business letters, when Pole Baker came in at the back-door and stood near - the writer, furtively scanning the long room. - </p> - <p> - “Where's the old man?” he asked, when Floyd looked up and saw him. - </p> - <p> - “Not down yet. Dry up, Pole; I was making a calculation, and you knocked - it hell west and crooked.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I reckon that kin wait. I've got a note fer you.” Pole was taking - it from his coat-pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Cynthia?” Floyd asked, eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “Not by a long shot,” said Pole. “I reckon maybe you'll wish it was.” He - threw the missive on the desk, and went on in quite a portentous tone. “I - come by Jeff Wade's house, Nelson, on my way back from the mill. He was - inside with his wife and childern, an' as I was passin' one of the little - boys run out to the fence and called me in to whar he was. He's a devil of - a fellow! He's expectin' his wife to be confined, an' I saw he was try'in' - to keep her in the dark. What you reckon he said?” - </p> - <p> - “How do I know?” The young merchant, with a serious expression of face, - had tom open the envelope, but had not yet unfolded the sheet of cheap, - blue-lined writing-paper. - </p> - <p> - “Why, he jest set thar in his chair before the fire, an' as he handed the - note up to me he sorter looked knowin' an' said, said he: 'Pole, I'm owin' - Mayhew & Floyd a little balance on my account, an' they seem uneasy. I - wish you'd take this letter to young Floyd. He's always stood to me, - sorter, an' I believe he'll git old Mayhew to wait on me a little while.” - </p> - <p> - “Did he say that, Pole?” Floyd had opened the note, but was looking - straight into Baker's eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he said them very words, Nelson, although he knowed I was on hand - that day when he paid off his bill in full. I couldn't chip in thar before - his wife, an' the Lord knows I couldn't tell him I had an idea what was in - the note, so I rid on as fast as I could. I had a turn o' meal under me, - an' I tuck it off an' hid it in the thicket t'other side o' Duncan's big - spring. I wasn't goin' to carry a secret war-message a-straddle o' two - bushels o' meal warm from the mill-rocks. An' I'd bet my hat that sheet o' - paper hain't no flag o' truce.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd read the note. There was scarcely a change in the expression of his - face or a flicker of his eyelashes as he folded it with steady fingers and - held it in his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he says he has got the whole story, Pole,” Floyd said. “He gives me - fair warning as a man of honor to arm myself. He will be here at twelve - o'clock to the minute.” - </p> - <p> - “Great God!” Pole ejaculated. “You hain't one chance in a million to - escape with yore life. You seed how he shot t'other day. He was excited - then—he was as ca'm as a rock mountain when I seed him awhile ago, - an' his ride to town will steady 'im more. He sorter drawed down his mouth - at one corner an' cocked up his eye, same as to say, 'You understand; thar - hain't no use in upsettin' women folks over a necessary matter o' this - sort.' Looky' here, Nelson, old pard, some'n has got to be done, an' it's - got to be done in a damn big hurry.” - </p> - <p> - “It will have to be done at twelve 'clock, anyway,” Floyd said, calmly, a - grim smile almost rising to his face. “That's the hour he's appointed.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to tell me you are a-goin' to set here like a knot on a log - an' 'low that keen-eyed mountain sharp-shooter to step up in that door an' - pin you to that stool?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I don't mean that, exactly, Pole,” Floyd smiled, coldly. “A man ought - not to insult even his antagonist that way. You see, that would be making - the offended party liable for wilful, coldblooded murder before the law. - No, I've got my gun here in the drawer, and we'll make a pretence at - fighting a duel, even if he downs me in the first round.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a fool, that's what you are!” Pole was angry, without knowing - why. “Do you mean to tell me you are a-goin' to put yore life up like that - to gratify a man o' Jeff Wade's stamp?” - </p> - <p> - “He's got his rights, Pole, and I intend to respect them,” Floyd responded - with firmness. “I've hurt his family pride, and I'd deserve to be kicked - off the face of the earth if I turned tail and ran. He seems to think I - may light out; I judge that by his setting the time a couple of hours - ahead, but I'll give him satisfaction. I'm built that way, Pole. There is - no use arguing about it.” - </p> - <p> - The farmer stepped forward and laid a heavy-hand on Floyd's shoulder, and - stared at him from beneath his lowering brows. - </p> - <p> - “You know, as well as I do, that you wasn't the only man that—that - dabbled in that dirty business,” he said, sharply, “an' it's derned - foolish fer you to—” - </p> - <p> - “I'm the only one he's charging with it,” broke in the merchant, “and that - settles it. I'm not an overgrown baby, Pole. Right now you are trying to - get me to act in a way that would make you heartily ashamed of me. You - might as well dry up. I'm not going to run. I'm going to meet Jeff Wade, - fair and square, as a man—as I'd want him to meet me under like - circumstances.” - </p> - <p> - “My God! my God!” Pole said under his breath. “Hush! thar comes Mayhew. I - reckon you don't want him to know about it.” - </p> - <p> - “No, he'd be in for swearing out a peace-warrant. For all you do, Pole, - don't let him onto it. I've got to write a letter or two before Wade - comes; don't let the old man interrupt me.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll feel like I'm dancin' on yore scaffold,” the farmer growled. “I want - my mind free to—to study. Thar! he's stopped to speak to Joe Peters. - Say, Nelson, I see Mel Jones down thar talkin' to a squad in front o' the - door; they've got the'r heads packed together as close as sardines. I see - through it now. My Lord, I see through <i>that</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “What is it you see through, Pole?” Floyd looked up from Wade's note, his - brow furrowed. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Mel's Jeff Wade's fust cousin; he's onto what's up, an' he's - confidin' it to a few; it will be all over this town in five minutes, an' - the women an' childem will hide out to keep from bein' hit. Thar they come - in at the front now, an' they are around the old man like red ants over - the body of a black one. He'll be onto it in a minute. Thar, see? What did - I tell you? He's comin' this way. You can tell by the old duck's waddle - that he is excited.” Floyd muttered something that escaped Pole's ears, - and began writing. Mayhew came on rapidly, tapping his heavy cane on the - floor, his eyes glued on the placid profile of his young partner. - </p> - <p> - “What's this I hear?” he panted. “Has Jeff Wade sent you word that he is - comin' here to shoot you?” - </p> - <p> - Pole laughed out merrily, and, stepping forward, he slapped the old - merchant familiarly on the arm. “It's a joke, Mr. Mayhew,” he said. “I put - it up on Mel Jones as me'n him rid in town; he's always makin' fun o' - women fer tattlin', an' said I to myse'f, said I, 'I'll see how deep - that's rooted under yore hide, old chap,' an' so I made that up out o' - whole cloth. I was jest tellin' Nelson, here, that I'd bet a hoss to a - ginger-cake that Mel 'ud not be able to keep it, an' he hain't. Nelson, by - George, the triflin' skunk let it out inside o' ten minutes, although he - swore to me he'd keep his mouth shet. I'll make 'im set up the drinks on - that.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I don't like such jokes,” Mayhew fumed. “Jokes like that and what's - at the bottom of them don't do a reputable house any good. And I don't - want any more of them. Do you understand, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, I won't do it ag'in,” answered Pole, in an almost absent-minded - tone. His eyes were now on Floyd, and, despite his assumed lightness of - manner, the real condition of things was bearing heavily on him. Just then - a rough-looking farmer, in a suit of home-made jeans, straw hat, and shoes - worn through at the bottom, came back to them. He held in his hand the - point of a plough, and looked nervously about him. - </p> - <p> - “Everybody's busy down in front,” he said, “an' I want to git a quarter's - wuth o' coffee.” His glance, full of curiosity, was on Floyd's face. “I - want to stay till Wade comes, <i>myself</i>, but my old woman's almost got - a spasm. She says she seed, enough bloodshed an' carnage durin' the war to - do her, an' then she always liked Mr. Floyd. She says she'd mighty nigh as - soon see an own brother laid out as him. Mr. Floyd sorter done us a favor - two year back when he stood fer us on our corn crop, an', as fer me, why, - of course, I—” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Bill Champ,” Pole burst out in a spontaneous laugh, “I thought - you had more sense than to swallow a joke like that. Go tell yore old - woman that I started that tale jest fer pure fun. Nelson here an' Wade is - good friends.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well, ef that's it, I'm sold,” the farmer said, sheepishly. “But from - the way Mel Jones an' some more talked down thar a body would think you - fellers was back here takin' Mr. Floyd's measure fer his box. I'll go - quiet my wife. She couldn't talk of a thing all the way here this mornin' - but a new dress she was goin' to git, an' now she's fer hurryin' back - without even pickin' out the cloth.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I don't like this sort o' thing,” old Mayhew growled as the customer - moved away. “An' I want you to remember that, Baker.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you dry up, old man!” Pole retorted, with sudden impatience. “You'd - live longer an' enjoy life better ef you'd joke more. Ef the marrow o' my - bones was as sour as yore'n is I'd cut my throat or go into the vinegar - business.” - </p> - <p> - At this juncture Captain Duncan came in the store and walked back to the - trio. - </p> - <p> - “Good-morning,” he said, cheerily. “Say, Floyd, I've heard the news, and - thought if you wanted to borrow a pair of real good, old-fashioned - duelling pistols, why, I've got some my father owned. They were once used - by General—” - </p> - <p> - “It's all a joke, captain,” Pole broke in, winking at the planter, and - casting a look of warning at the now unobservant Mayhew. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, is <i>that</i> it?” Duncan was quick of perception. - </p> - <p> - “To tell you the truth, I thought so, boys. Yes, yes—” He was - studying Floyd's calm face admiringly. “Yes, it sounded to me like a prank - somebody was playing. Well, I thought I'd go fishing this evening, and - came in to get some hooks and lines. Fine weather, isn't it? but the - river's muddy. I'll go down and pick out some tackle.” - </p> - <p> - He had just gone when an old woman, wearing a cheap breakfast shawl over - her gray head, a dress of dingy solid-black calico, and a pair of old, - heavy shoes, approached from the door in the rear. - </p> - <p> - “I got yore summons, Mr. Mayhew,” she said, in a thin, shaky voice. - “Peter, my husband, was so down-hearted that he wouldn't come to town, an' - so I had to do it. So you are goin' to foreclose on us? The mule an' cow - is all on earth we've got to make the crop on, and when they are gone we - will be plumb ruined.” - </p> - <p> - The face of the old merchant was like carved stone. - </p> - <p> - “You got the goods, didn't you, Mrs. Stark?” he asked, harshly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, we hain't disputin' the account,” she answered, plaintively. - </p> - <p> - “And you agreed faithfully if you didn't pay this spring that the mule and - cow would be our property?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, of course. As I say, Mr. Mayhew, I'm not blamin' you-uns. Thar - hain't a thing for me an' Peter to do but thrust ourselves on my daughter - and son-in-law over in Fannin', but I'd rather die than go. We won't be - welcome; they are loaded down with childern too young to work. So it's - settled, Mr. Mayhew—I mean, ef we drive over the mule an' cow, thar - won't be no lawsuit?” - </p> - <p> - “No, there won't be any suit. I'd let this pass and give you more time, - Mrs. Stark, but a thing like that can't be kept quiet through the country, - an' there are fifty customers of ours over your way who'd be runnin' here - with some cock-and-bull story, and we'd be left high and dry, with goods - to pay for in market and nothing to show for it. We make our rules, Mrs. - Stark, and they are clearly understood at the time the papers are signed.” - </p> - <p> - “Never you mind, Mrs. Stark, I'll fix that all right.” It was Nelson Floyd - who was speaking, and with a face full of pity and tenderness he had - stepped forward and was offering to shake hands. - </p> - <p> - The little woman, her lips twitching and drawn, gave him her hand, her - eyes wide open in groping wonder. - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand, Nelson—Mr. Floyd—you mean—” - </p> - <p> - “I mean that I'll have your entire account charged to me and you can take - your time about paying it—next fall, or the next, or any time it - suits you. I'll not press you fer it, if you never pay it. I passed your - place the other day and your crop looks very promising. You are sure to - get out of debt this coming fall.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Nelson—I—I don't know what to do about it. You see Mr. - Mayhew says—” - </p> - <p> - “But I say it's all right,” Floyd broke in, as he laid his hand softly on - her shoulder. “Go down in front and buy what you need to run on. I'll - assume the risk, if there is any.” - </p> - <p> - Mayhew turned suddenly; his face wore a fierce frown and his thick lip - shook. - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to say, Nelson, that you are going to step in and—” - </p> - <p> - “Step in nothing!” Floyd said, calmly. “I hope I won't have to remind you, - sir, of our clearly written agreement of partnership, in which it is - plainly stated that I may use my judgment in regard to customers whenever - I wish.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll ruin us—you'll break us all to smash, if you do this sort of - thing,” Mayhew panted. “It will upset our whole system.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't agree with you, sir,” Floyd answered, tartly, “but we won't argue - about it. If you don't intend to abide by our agreement, then say so and - we will part company.” - </p> - <p> - Mayhew stared in alarm for a moment, then he said: - </p> - <p> - “There's no use talking about parting. I only want to kind of hold you in - check. You get your sympathies stirred up and make plunges sometimes when - you ought to act with a clear, impartial head. You say the crop looks - well; then it's all right. Go ahead, Mrs. Stark. Anything Nelson does is - agreeable to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it's mighty good of you both,” the old woman said, wiping tears of - joy from her eyes. “But I won't buy anything to-day. I'll ride out to the - farm as quick as I can and tell Peter the good news. He's mighty nigh out - of his senses about it.” - </p> - <p> - Mayhew followed her down into the store. It was as if he were ashamed to - meet the quizzical look which Pole Baker had fixed upon him. He had no - sooner turned his back than Pole faced Floyd, his heavy brows drawn - together, his every feature working under stress of deep emotion. - </p> - <p> - “They say the Almighty is a just and a good God,” Pole said. “But I'll - deny it all the rest o' my life ef He lets Jeff Wade shoot down sech a - specimen o' manhood as you are fer jest that one slip, after—after, - I say, after fillin' you with the fire of youth an' puttin' right in yore - track a gal like that Minnie Wade, with a pair o' dare-devil eyes an' a - shape that ud make a Presbyterian preacher—” - </p> - <p> - “Dry up, Pole!” Floyd cried, suddenly. “Don't forget yourself in your - worry about me. A man is always more to blame than a woman, and it's only - the cowards that shirk the consequences.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you have it yore way, an' I'll have it mine,” Pole snorted. “What - both of us think hain't got a damn thing to do with the time o' day. How - does she stand by your ticker?” - </p> - <p> - Floyd looked at his watch. “It's a quarter-past eleven,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “The hell it is!” Pole went to the back-door and looked out at the dreary - stable-yard and barn. He stood there for several minutes in deep thought, - then he seemed to make up his mind on something that was troubling him, - for he suddenly thrust his hand into his hip-pocket, turned his back on - Floyd, drew out a revolver, and rapidly twirled the cylinder with his - heavy thumb. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I 'lowed I'd swore off from shootin'-scrapes,” he mused; “but I - shore have to git in this un. I'd never look Sally an' the childern in the - face ag'in ef I was to stand still an' let that dead-shot kill the best - friend me an' them ever had. No, Poley, old boy, you've got to enlist this - mornin', an' thar hain't no two ways about it. I'd take a drink on it, but - a feller's aim ain't wuth a dang when he sees double.” - </p> - <p> - His attention was suddenly attracted to Floyd, who had left his stool and - was putting a revolver into the pocket of his sack-coat. Pole shoved his - own cautiously back into his pocket and went to his friend's side. - </p> - <p> - “What you goin' to do now?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “I have just thought of something that ought to be attended to,” was the - young merchant's answer. “Is Mel Jones still down there?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I see 'im now through the left-hand window,” said Pole. “Do you want - to speak to 'im?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” Floyd moved in the direction indicated, and Pole wonderingly - followed. Outside on the pavement, at the corner of the store, Jones stood - talking to a group of eager listeners. He stopped when he saw Floyd and - looked in the opposite direction, but in a calm voice the young merchant - called him. - </p> - <p> - “Mel, may I see you a minute?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly.” The face of the gaunt farmer fell as he came forward, his - eyes shifting uneasily. - </p> - <p> - “I got a message from Jeff Wade just now,” said Floyd. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, did you?—is that so?” the fellow exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he says he has a private matter to settle with me, and says he'll be - here at the store at twelve. Now, as you see, Mel, there are a good many - people standing around—women and children—and somebody might - get hurt or frightened. You know where Price's spring is, down behind the - old brick-yard?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, I know where it is, Floyd.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you will do me a favor if you will ride out to Wade's and tell him - I'll meet him there. He could reach it without coming through town, and - we'd escape a lot of prying people who would only be in the way.” - </p> - <p> - “That's a good idea,” said Jones, his strong face lighting up. “Yes, I'll - go tell 'im. I'm glad to see that you are a man o' backbone, Floyd. Some - 'lowed that you'd throw up the sponge an' leave fer parts unknown, but - Jeff's got to tackle the rale stuff. I kin see that, Floyd. Minnie's - raised a lots o' devilment, an' my wife says she don't blame you one bit, - but Jeff cayn't be expected to see it through a woman's eyes. I wish you - was goin' to meet a man that wasn't sech a dead-shot. I seed Jeff knock a - squirrel out of a high tree with his six-shooter that three men had missed - with rifles.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll try to take care of myself, Mel. But you'd better hurry up and get - to him before he starts to town.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I'll git 'im all right,” said the farmer, and he went out to the - hitching-rack, mounted his horse, and galloped away. - </p> - <p> - The group Jones had been talking to now drew near. - </p> - <p> - “It's all off, boys!” Pole said, with one of his inscrutable laughs. - “Explanations an' apologies has been exchanged—no gore to-day. Big - mistake, anyway, all round. Big, big blunder.” - </p> - <p> - This version soon spread, and a sigh of relief went up from all sides. - Fifteen minutes passed. Pole was standing in the front-door of the store, - cautiously watching Floyd, who had gone back to his desk to write a - letter. Suddenly the farmer missed him from his place. - </p> - <p> - “He's tryin' to give me the slip,” Pole said. “He's gone out at the - back-door and has made fer the spring. Well, he kin <i>think</i> he's - throwed old Pole off, but he hain't by a jugful. I know now which road - Jeff Wade will come by, an' I'll see 'im fust ur no prayers hain't - answered.” - </p> - <p> - He went out to the hitching-rack, mounted, and, waving his hand to the few - bystanders who were eying him curiously, he rode away, his long legs - swinging back and forth from the flanks of his horse. A quarter of a mile - outside of the village he came to a portion of the road leading to Jeff - Wade's house that was densely shaded, and there he drew rein and - dismounted. - </p> - <p> - “Thar hain't no other way fer 'im to come,” he said, “an' I'm his meat or - he is mine—that is, unless the dem fool kin be fetched to reason.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE was a - quilting-party at Porter's that day. Cynthia had invited some of her - friends to help her, and the quilt, a big square of colored scraps, more - or less artistically arranged in stars, crescents, and floral wreaths, - occupied the centre of the sitting-room. It was stitched to a frame made - of four smooth wooden bars which were held together at the corners by pegs - driven into gimlet-holes and which rested on the backs of four chairs. The - workers sat on two sides of it, and stitched with upward and downward - strokes, towards the centre, the quilt being rolled up as the work - progressed. - </p> - <p> - Hattie Mayhew was there, and Kitty Welborn, and two or three others. As - usual, they were teasing Cynthia about the young preacher. - </p> - <p> - “I know he's dead in love,” laughed Kitty Welborn. “He really can't keep - from looking at her during preaching. I noticed it particularly one Sunday - not long ago, and told Matt Digby that I'd be sure to get religion if a - man bored it into me with big, sad eyes like his.” - </p> - <p> - “I certainly would go up to the mourners' bench every time he called for - repentant sinners,” said Hattie Mayhew. “I went up once while he was - exhorting, and he didn't even take my hand. He turned me over to Sister - Perdue, that snaggletoothed old maid who always passes the wine at - sacrament, and that done me.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia said nothing, but she smiled good-naturedly as she rose from her - chair and went to the side of the quilt near the crudely screened - fireplace to see that the work was rolled evenly on the frame. While thus - engaged, her father came into the room, vigorously fanning himself with - his old slouch hat. The girls knew he had been to the village, and all - asked eagerly if he had brought them any letters. - </p> - <p> - “No, I clean forgot to go to the office,” he made slow answer, as he threw - himself into a big armchair with a raw-hide bottom near a window on the - shaded side of the house. - </p> - <p> - “Why, father,” his daughter chided him, “you promised the girls faithfully - to call at the office. I think that was very neglectful of you when you - knew they would be here to dinner.” - </p> - <p> - “And he usually has a good memory,” spoke up Mrs. Porter, appearing in the - door-way leading to the dining-room and kitchen. She was rolling flakes of - dough from her lank hands, and glanced at her husband reprovingly. - “Nathan, what <i>did</i> you go and do that way for, when you knew Cynthia - was trying to make her friends pass a pleasant day?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I clean forgot it,” Porter said, quite undisturbed. “To tell you - the truth, thar was so much excitement on all hands, with this un runnin' - in with fresh news, an' another sayin' that maybe it was all a false - alarm, that the post-office plumb slipped out o' my head. Huh! I hain't - thought post-office once sense I left here. I don't know whether I could - 'a' got waited on, anyway, fer the postmaster hisse'f was runnin' round - outside like a chicken with its head chopped off. Besides, I tell you, - gals, I made up my mind to hit the grit. I never was much of a hand to - want to see wholesale bloodshed. Moreover, I've heard of many a spectator - a-gittin' shot in the arms an' legs or some vital spot. No, I sorter - thought I'd come on. Mandy, have you seed anything o' my fly-flap? When - company's here you an' Cynthia jest try yoreselves on seein' how many - things you kin stuff in cracks an' out-o'-way places. I'm gittin' sick an' - tired o'—” - </p> - <p> - “Nathan, what's going on in town?” broke in Mrs. Porter. “What are you - talking about?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know what's goin' on <i>now</i>,” Porter drawled out, as he - slapped at a fly on his bald pate with an angry hand. “I say I don't know - what's goin' on right at this minute, but I know what was jest gittin' - ready to go on when I skipped. I reckon the coroner's goin' on with the - inquest ef he ain't afeared of an ambush. Jeff Wade—” Porter - suddenly bethought himself of something, and he rose, passed through the - composite and palpable stare of the whole room, and went to the clock on - the mantel-piece and opened it. “Thar!” he said, impatiently. “I wonder - what hole you-uns have stuck my chawin'-tobacco in. I put it in the corner - of this clock, right under the turpentine-bottle.” - </p> - <p> - “There's your fool tobacco,” Mrs. Porter exclaimed, running forward and - taking the dark plug from beneath the clock. “Fill your mouth with it, - maybe it will unlock your jaw. What is the trouble at Springtown?” - </p> - <p> - “I was jest startin' to tell you,” said Porter, diving into his capacious - trousers-pocket for his knife, and slowly opening the blade with his long - thumb-nail. “You see, Jeff Wade has at last got wind o' all that gab about - Minnie an' Nelson Floyd, an' he sent a war-cry by Pole Baker on hoss-back - as fast as Pole could clip it to tell Floyd to arm an' be ready at exactly - twelve o'clock, sharp.” - </p> - <p> - “I knew it would come,” said Mrs. Porter, a combination of finality and - resignation in her harsh voice. “I knew Jeff Wade wasn't going to allow - that to go on.” She was looking at her daughter, who, white and wide-eyed, - stood motionless behind Hattie Mayhew's chair. For a moment no one spoke, - though instinctively the general glance went to Cynthia, who, feeling it, - turned to the window looking out upon the porch, and stood with her back - to the room. Mrs. Porter broke the silence, her words directed to her - daughter. - </p> - <p> - “Jeff Wade will kill that man if he was fool enough to wait and meet him. - Do you think Floyd waited, Nathan?” - </p> - <p> - “No, he didn't wait,” was Porter's answer. “The plucky chap went 'im one - better. He sent word by Mel Jones to Wade that it would be indecent to - have a rumpus like that in town on a Saturday, when so many women an' - childem was settin' round in bullet-range, an' so if it was agreeable he'd - ruther have it in the open place at Price's Spring. Mel passed me as he - was goin' to Jeff with that word. It's nearly one o'clock now, an' it's my - candid opinion publicly expressed that Nelson Floyd has gone to meet a - higher power. I didn't want to be hauled up at court as a witness, an' so, - as I say, I hit the grit. I've been tied up in other folks's matters - before this, an' the court don't allow enough fer witness-fees to tempt me - to set an' listen to them long-winded lawyers talk fer a whole week on a - stretch.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor fellow!” exclaimed Hattie Mayhew. “I'm right sorry for him. He was - so handsome and sweet-natured. He had faults and bad ones, if what folks - say is true, but they may have been due to the hard life he had when he - was a child. I must say I have always been sorry for him; he had the - saddest look about the eyes of any human being I ever saw.” - </p> - <p> - “And he knew how to use his eyes, too,” was the sting Mrs. Porter added to - this charitable comment, while her sharp gaze still rested on her - daughter. - </p> - <p> - There was a sound at the window. Cynthia, with unsteady hands, was trying - to raise the sash. She finally succeeded in doing this, and in placing the - wooden prop under it. There was a steely look in her eyes and her features - were rigidly set, her face pale. - </p> - <p> - “It's very warm in here,” they heard her say. “There isn't a bit of - draught in this room. It's that hot cook-stove. Mother, I will—I—” - </p> - <p> - She turned and walked from the room. Mrs. Porter sighed, as she nodded - knowingly and looked after the departing form. - </p> - <p> - “Did you notice her face, girls?” she asked. “It was as white as death - itself. She looked as if she was about to faint. It's all this talk about - Floyd. Well, they <i>were</i> sort of friends. I tried to get her to stop - receiving his attentions, but she thought she knew better. Well, he has - got his deserts, I reckon.” - </p> - <p> - “And all on account of that silly Minnie Wade,” cried Kitty Welborn, “when - you know, as well as I do, Mrs. Porter, that Thad Pelham—” The - speaker glanced at Nathan Porter, and paused. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you needn't let up on yore hen-cackle on my account,” that blunt - worthy made haste to say. “I'll go out an' look at my new hogs. You gals - are out fer a day o' pleasure, an' I wouldn't interfere with the workin' - of yore jaws fer a purty.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter didn't remain to hear Kitty Welborn finish her observation, - but followed her daughter. In the dining-room, adjoining, an old woman sat - at a window. She was dressed in dingy black calico, her snowy hair brushed - smoothly down over a white, deeply wrinkled brow, and was fanning herself - feebly with a turkey-feather fan. She had Mrs. Porter's features and - thinness of frames. - </p> - <p> - “Mother,” Mrs. Porter said, pausing before her, “didn't Cynthia come in - here just now?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, she did,” replied the old woman, sharply. “She <i>did</i>. And I - just want to know, Mandy, what you all have been saying to her in there. I - want to know, I say.” - </p> - <p> - “We haven't been saying anything to her, as I know of,” said the farmer's - wife, in slow, studious surprise. - </p> - <p> - “I know you have—I say, I know you <i>have!</i>” The withered hand - holding the fan quivered in excitement. “I know you have; I can always - tell when that poor child is worried. I heard a little of it, too, but not - all. I heard them mention Hillhouse's name. I tell you, I am not going to - sit still and let a whole pack of addle-pated women tease as good a girl - as Cynthia is plumb to death.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't think they were troubling her,” Mrs. Porter said, her face drawn - in thought, her mind elsewhere. - </p> - <p> - “I know they <i>were!</i>” the old woman insisted. “She may have hidden it - in there before you all, but when she came in here just now she stopped - right near me and looked me full in the face, and never since she was a - little baby have I seen such an odd look in her eyes. She was about to - cry. She saw me looking at her, and she come up behind me and laid her - face down against my neck. She quivered all over, and then she said, 'Oh, - granny! oh, granny!' and then she straightened up and went right out at - that door into the yard. I tell you, it's got to let up. She sha'n't have - the life devilled out of her. If she don't want to marry that preacher, - she don't have to. As for me, I'd rather have married any sort of man on - earth when I was young than a long-legged, straight-faced preacher.” - </p> - <p> - “You say she went out in the yard?” said Mrs. Porter, absently. “I wonder - what she went out there for.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter went to the door and looked out. There was a clothes-line - stretched between two apple-trees near by, and Cynthia stood at it taking - down a table-cloth. She turned with it in her arms and came to her mother. - </p> - <p> - “I just remembered,” she said, “that there isn't a clean cloth for the - table. Mother, the iron is hot on the stove. You go back to the girls and - I'll smooth this out and set the table.” - </p> - <p> - The eyes of the two met. Mrs. Porter took a deep breath. “All right,” she - said. “I'll go back to the company, but I've got something to say, and - then I'm done for good. I want to say that I'm glad a daughter of mine has - got the proper pride and spunk you have. I see you are not going to make a - goose of yourself before visitors, and I'm proud of you. You are the right - sort—especially after he's acted in the scandalous way he has, and—and - laid you, even as good a girl as you, liable to be talked about for - keeping company with him.” - </p> - <p> - The girl's eyes sank. Something seemed to rise and struggle up within her, - for her breast heaved and her shoulders quivered convulsively. - </p> - <p> - “I'll fix the cloth,” she said, in a low, forced voice, “and then I'll set - the table and call you.” - </p> - <p> - “All right.” Mrs. Porter was turning away. “I'll try to keep them - entertained till you come back.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - IX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ENEATH a big oak - Pole stood holding his bridle-rein and waiting, his earnest gaze on the - long road leading to Jeff Wade's farm. Suddenly he descried a cloud of - dust far ahead, and chuckled. - </p> - <p> - “He's certainly on time,” he mused. “He must 'a' had his hoss already - hitched out in the thicket. Mel made good time, too. The dern scamp wants - to see bloodshed. Mel's that sort. By gum! that hain't Wade; it's Mel - hisse'f, an' he's certainly layin' the lash to his animal.” - </p> - <p> - In a gallop, Jones bore down on him, riding as recklessly as a cowboy, his - broad hat in one hand, a heavy switch in the other. He drew rein when he - recognized Baker. - </p> - <p> - “Did you deliver that message?” Pole questioned. - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, I finally got him alone; his wife seems to suspicion some'n, and - she stuck to 'im like a leech. She's a jealous woman, Pole, an' I don't - know but what she kinder thought Jeff was up to some o' his old shines. - She's in a family-way, an' a little more cranky than common. He was a - sorter tough nut before he married, you know, an' a man like that will do - to watch.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, what did he say?” Pole asked, as indifferently as his impatience - would allow. - </p> - <p> - “Why, he said, 'All hunkeydory.' The spring plan ketched him jest right. - He said that <i>one</i> thing—o' bloodyin' up the main street in - town—had bothered him more than anything else. He admired it in - Floyd, too. Jeff said: 'By gum! fer a town dude, that feller's got more - backbone than I expected.. He's a foe wuth meetin', an' I reckon killin' - 'im won't be sech a terrible disgrace as I was afeard it mought be.'” - </p> - <p> - “But whar are you headin' fer in sech a rush?” Pole asked. - </p> - <p> - Jones laughed slyly as he put his hat carefully on his shaggy head and - pressed the broad brims up on the sides and to a point in front. “Why, - Pole,” he answered, “to tell you the truth, I am headed fer that thar - spring. I'm goin' to acknowledge to you that, as long as I've lived in - this world, I hain't never been on hand at a shootin'-scrape. Mighty nigh - every man I know has seed oodlin's of 'em, but my luck's been agin me. I - was too young to be in the war, an' about the most excitin' thing I ever - attended was a chicken-fight, and so I determined to see this through. I - know a big rock jest above the spring, and I'm a-goin' to git thar in - plenty o' time. You let me git kivered all but my eyes, an' I'll run the - resk o' gettin' hit from thar up. Whar <i>you</i> makin' fer, Pole?” - </p> - <p> - “Me? Oh, I'm on the way home, Mel. I seed the biggest rattlesnake run - across this road jest now I ever laid eyes on. I got down to settle his - hash, but I didn't have anything to hit 'im with, an' I'm done stompin' on - them fellers sence Tobe Baker, my cousin, over at Hillbend, got bliffed in - the knee-j'int.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, so long,” Jones laughed. “I'll hunt rattlesnakes some other time. - Are you plumb shore you hain't got the jimmies ag'in, Pole? Take my advice - an' don't tell anybody about seein' snakes; it sets folks to thinkin'. - Why, I seed you once in broad daylight when you swore black spiders was - playin' sweepstakes on yore shirt-front.” - </p> - <p> - “So long, Mel,” Pole smiled. He made a fair pretence at getting ready to - mount as Jones galloped away in a cloud of dust. The rider was scarcely - out of sight when a pair of fine black horses drawing a buggy came into - view. The vehicle contained Captain Duncan and his daughter Evelyn. She - was a delicate, rather pretty girl of nineteen or twenty, and she nodded - haughtily to Pole as her father stopped his horses. - </p> - <p> - “You are sure that thing's off, are you, Baker?” the planter said, with a - genial smile. - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, captain.” Pole had his eyes on the young lady and had taken off - his hat, and stood awkwardly swinging it against the baggy knees of his - rough trousers. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm very glad,” Duncan said. “I heard you'd told some of the crowd - back at the store that it had been settled, but I didn't know whether the - report was reliable or not.” - </p> - <p> - Pole's glance shifted between plain truth and Evelyn Duncan's refined face - for a moment, and then he nodded. “Oh yes, it was all a mistake, captain. - Reports get out, you know; and nothin' hain't as bad as gossip is after - it's crawled through a hundred mouths an' over a hundred envious tongues.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm glad, as I say,” the planter said, and he jerked his reins and - spoke to his horses. - </p> - <p> - As he whirled away, Pole growled. “Derned ef I hain't a-makin' a regular - sign-post out o' myself,” he mused, “an' lyin' to beat the Dutch. Ef that - blasted fool don't hurry on purty soon I'll—but thar he is now, - comin' on with a swoop. His hoss is about to run from under 'im, his dem - legs is so long. Now, looky' here, Pole Baker, Esquire, hog-thief an' - liar, you are up agin about the most serious proposition you ever tackled, - an' ef you don't mind what you are about you'll have cold feet inside o' - ten minutes by the clock. You've set in to carry this thing through or die - in the attempt, an' time's precious. The fust thing is to stop the blamed - whelp; you cayn't reason with a man that's flyin' through the air like - he's shot out of a gun, an' Jeff Wade's a-goin' to be the devil to halt. - He's got the smell o' blood, an' that works on a mad man jest like it does - on a bloodhound—he's a-goin' to run some'n down. The only thing in - God's world that'll stop a man in that fix is to insult 'im, an' I reckon - I'll have that to do in this case.” - </p> - <p> - Jeff Wade was riding rapidly. Just before he reached Pole he drew out his - big, silver, open-faced watch and looked at it. He wore no coat and had on - a gray flannel-shirt, open at the neck. Round his waist he wore a wide - leather belt, from which, on his right side, protruded the glittering butt - of a revolver of unusual size and length of barrel. Suddenly Pole led his - own horse round until the animal stood directly across the narrow road, - rendering it impossible for the approaching rider to pass at the speed he - was going. - </p> - <p> - “Hold on thar, Jeff!” Pole held up his hand. “Whar away? The mail-hack - hain't in yet. I've jest left town.” - </p> - <p> - “I hain't goin' after no mail!” Wade said, his lips tight, a fixed stare - in his big, earnest eyes. “I'm headed fer Price's Spring. I'm goin' to put - a few holes in that thar Nelson Floyd, ef I git the drap on him 'fore he - does on me.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh!” Pole ejaculated; “no, you hain't a-goin' to see him, nuther—that - is, not till me'n you've had a talk, Jeff Wade. You seem in a hurry, but - thar's a matter betwixt me an' you that's got to be attended to.” - </p> - <p> - “What the hell d' you mean?” Wade demanded, a stare of irritated - astonishment dawning in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I mean that Nelson Floyd is a friend o' mine, an' he ain't a-goin' - to be shot down like a dog by a man that could hit a nickel a hundred - yards away nine times out o' ten. You an' me's face to face, an' I reckon - chances 'ud be somewhar about equal. I hain't a brag shot, but I could hit - a pouch as big as yourn is, at close range, about as easy as you could - me.” - </p> - <p> - “You—you—by God! do you mean to take this matter up?” - </p> - <p> - Jeff Wade slid off his horse and stood facing Pole. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I do, Jeff—that is, unless you'll listen to common-sense. - That's what I'm here fer. I'm a-goin' to stuff reason into you ef I have - to make a hole to put it in at. You are a-goin' entirely too fast to live - in an enlightened Christian age, an' I'm here to call a halt. I've got - some things to tell you. They are a-goin' to hurt like pullin' eye-teeth, - an' you may draw yore gun before I'm through, but I'm goin' to make a try - at it.” - </p> - <p> - “What the hell do you—” - </p> - <p> - “Hold on, hold on, hold on, Jeff!” Pole raised a warning hand. “Keep that - paw off'n that cannon in yore belt or thar'll be a war right here before - you hear my proclamation of the terms we kin both live under. Jeff, I am - yore neighbor an' friend I love you mighty nigh like a brother, but I'm - here to tell you that, with all yore grit an' good qualities, you are - makin' a bellowin' jackass o' yourself. An' ef I let you put through yore - present plans, you'll weep in repentance fer it till you are let down in - yore soggy grave. Thar's two sides to every question, an' you are lookin' - only at yore side o' this un. You cayn't tell how sorry I am about havin' - to take this step. I've been a friend to yore entire family—to yore - brothers, an' yore old daddy, when he was alive. I mighty nigh swore a lie - down in Atlanta to keep <i>him</i> out o' limbo, when he was arrested fer - moon-shinin'.” - </p> - <p> - “I know all that!” growled Wade; “but, damn it, you—” - </p> - <p> - “Hold yore taters, now, an' listen. You mought as well take yore mind - off'n that spring. You hain't a-goin' to git at Nelson Floyd without you - walk over my dead body—an' thar's no efs an' an's about that. You - try to mount that hoss, an' I'll kill you ef it's in my power. I say I've - got some'n to tell you that you'll wish you'd listened to. I know some'n - about Minnie that will put a new color on this whole nasty business; an' - when you know it, ef you kill Nelson Floyd in cold blood the law will jerk - that stiff neck o' your'n—jerk it till it's limber.” - </p> - <p> - “You say you know some'n about Minnie?” The gaunt hand which till now had - hovered over the butt of the big revolver hung straight down. Wade stood - staring, his lip hanging loose, a sudden droop of indecision upon him. - </p> - <p> - “I know this much, Jeff,” Pole said, less sharply, “I know you are not on - the track o' the fust offender in that matter, an' when I prove <i>that</i> - to you I don't believe you'll look at it the same.” - </p> - <p> - “You say—you say—” - </p> - <p> - “Listen now, Jeff, an' don't fly off the handle at a well-wisher sayin' - what he thinks has to be said in justice to all concerned. The truth is, - you never seed Minnie like other folks has all along. You seed 'er grow up - an' she was yore pet. To you she was a regular angel, but other folks has - knowed all along, Jeff, that she was born with a sorter light nature. - Women folks, with the'r keen eyes, has knowed that ever since she got out - o' short dresses. Even yore own wife has said behind yore back a heap on - this line that she was afeard to say to your face. Not a soul has dared to - talk plain to you, an' even <i>I</i> wouldn't do it now except in this - case o' life an' death.” - </p> - <p> - Wade shook back his long, coarse hair. He was panting like a tired dog. “I - don't believe a damn word of what you are a-sayin,” he muttered, “an' I'll - make you prove it, by God, or I'll have yore lifeblood!” - </p> - <p> - “Listen to me, Jeff,” Pole said, gently. “I'm not goin' to threaten any - more. Believe me or not, <i>but listen</i>. You remember when Thad Pelham - went off to Mexico a year or so ago?” - </p> - <p> - Wade made no reply, but there was a look of groping comprehension in his - great, blearing eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I see you remember that,” Pole went on. “Well, you know, too, that he was - goin' with Minnie a lot about that time—takin' her buggy-ridin' an' - to meet-in'. He was a devil in pants, Jeff—his whole family was bad. - The men in it would refuse the last call to go in at the gate o' heaven ef - a designin' woman was winkin' at 'em on the outside. Well, Thad started - fer Mexico one day, an' at the same time Minnie went on a visit to yore - brother Joe in Calhoun.” - </p> - <p> - “She went thar a year ago,” Wade put in, “fer I bought 'er ticket myself - at Darley.” - </p> - <p> - “She told <i>you</i> she went to Calhoun.” Pole's eyes were mercifully - averted. “Jeff, I met her an' Thad down in Atlanta.” - </p> - <p> - Wade caught his breath. He shook from head to foot as with a chill. - </p> - <p> - “You say—Pole, you say—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I met 'em comin' out o' the Globe Hotel—that little resort - jest off'n Decatur Street. They was comin' out o' the side-door, an' me - an' them met face to face. Minnie, she turned as white as a sheet, but - Thad sorter laughed like it was a good joke, an' winked at me. I bowed to - 'em an' passed on, but I seed 'em lookin' back, an' then they motioned to - me to stop, an' they come to me. Minnie set in to cryin' an' begun tellin' - me not to take the news back home—that her an' Thad loved each other - so much she jest <i>had</i> to play the trick on you an' go as fur as - Atlanta with 'im. She said he was comin' back after he got located, an' - that they was goin' to git decently married an' so on. An' that devilish - Thad smiled an' sorter pulled his cheek down from his left eye an' said, - 'Yes, Pole, we are a-goin' to git married. That is, when the proper times - comes.'” - </p> - <p> - A sigh escaped Jeff Wade's tense lips. - </p> - <p> - “Are you plumb shore the two done wrong down thar, Baker?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - Pole pulled his mustache and looked at the ground. A smile dawned and died - on his face. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I reckon they wasn't down thar to attend a Sunday-school - convention, Jeff. They didn't have that look to me. But I was so worried - fer fear I mought be doin' a woman injustice in my mind, that, after they - left me, to make sure, I went in the office o' the hotel. The clerk was - standin' thar doin' nothin', an' so I axed 'im who that young couple was - that had jest gone out, an' he laughed an' said they was a newly married - pair from up in the mountains—'Mr. an' Mrs. Sam Buncombe,' an' he - showed me whar Thad had writ the names in his scrawlin' hand-write on the - book. The clerk said that fer a freshly linked couple they headed off any - he'd ever had in his bridal-chamber. He said they was orderin' some sort - o' drink every minute in the day, an' that they made so much racket - overhead that he had to stop 'em several times. He said they danced jigs - an' sung nigger songs. He said he'd never married hisse'f—that he'd - always been afeard to make the riffle, but that ef he could be shore - matrimony was like that, that he'd find him a consort 'fore sundown or - break his neck tryin'.” - </p> - <p> - Suddenly Wade put out his hand and laid it heavily on Pole's shoulder. - “Looky' here, Baker,” he said, “if you are lying to me, I—” - </p> - <p> - “Hold on, <i>hold on</i>, Jeff Wade!” Pole broke in sternly. “When you use - words like them don't you look serious! So fur, this has been a friendly - talk, man to man, as I see it; but you begin to intimate that I'm a liar, - an' I'll try my best to make you chaw the statement. You're excited, but - you must watch whar yore a-walkin'.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I want the truth, by God, <i>I want the truth!</i>” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you are a-gittin' it, with the measure runnin' over,” Pole said, - “an' that ought to satisfy any reasonable man.” - </p> - <p> - “So you think, then, that Nelson Floyd never done any—any o' the - things folks says he did—that trip to the circus at Darley, when - Minnie said she was stayin' all night with the Halsey gals over the - mountains—that was just report?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I ain't here to say that, <i>nuther</i>,” said Pole, most - diplomatically. “Nelson Floyd ain't any more'n human, Jeff. His wings - hain't sprouted—at least, they ain't big enough to show through his - clothes. He's like you used to be before you married an' quit the turf, - only—ef I'm any judge—you was a hundred times wuss. Ef all the - men concerned in this county was after you like you are after Nelson - Floyd, they'd be on yore track wuss'n a pack o' yelpin' wolves.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, hell! let up on me an' what I've done! I kin take care o' myself,” - Wade snarled. - </p> - <p> - “All right, Jeff,” Pole laughed. “I was only drappin' them hints on my way - to my point. Well, Minnie she come back from Atlanta, an' fer three whole - days she looked to me like she missed Thad, but she got to goin' with the - Thornton boys, an' then Nelson Floyd run across her track. I ain't here to - make excuses fer 'im, but she was every bit as much to blame as he was. - He's been around some, an' has enough sense to git in out o' the rain, an' - I reckon he had his fun, or he wouldn't be a-settin' at Price's Spring - waitin' to meet death at the end o' that gun o' yourn.” - </p> - <p> - Jeff Wade turned an undecided, wavering glance upon the towering mountain - on his right. He drew a deep breath and seemed about to speak, but checked - himself. - </p> - <p> - “But la me! what a stark, ravin' fool you was about to make o' yoreself, - Jeff!” Pole went on. “You started to do this thing to-day on yore sister's - account, when by doin' it you would bust up her home an' make the rest of - her life miserable.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean—” - </p> - <p> - “I mean that Joe Mitchell, that's been dead-stuck on Minnie sence she was - a little gal, set up to her an' proposed marriage. They got engaged, an' - then every old snaggle-toothed busybody in these mountains set in to try - to bust it up by totin' tales about Floyd an' others to 'im. As fast as - one would come, Minnie'd kill it, an' show Joe what a foolish thing it was - to listen to gossip, an' Joe finally told 'em all to go to hell, an' they - was married, an' moved on his farm in Texas. From all accounts, they are - doin' well an' are happy, but, la me! they wouldn't be that away long ef - you'd 'a' shot Nelson Floyd this mornin'.” - </p> - <p> - “You say they wouldn't, Pole?” - </p> - <p> - “Huh, I reckon <i>you</i> wouldn't dance a jig an' sing hallelujah ef you - was to pick up a newspaper this mornin' an' read in type a foot long that - yore wife's brother, in another state, had laid a man out stiff as a board - fer some'n' that had tuck place sometime back betwixt the man an' her.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh!” Wade's glance was now on Pole's face. “Huh, I reckon you are right, - Pole. I reckon you are right. I wasn't thinkin' about that.” - </p> - <p> - “Thar was <i>another</i> duty you wasn't a-thinkin' about, too,” Pole - said. “An' that is yore duty to yore wife an' childern that would be - throwed helpless on the world ef this thing had 'a' tuck place to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I don't see <i>that</i>, anyway,” said Wade, dejectedly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I do, Jeff. You see, ef you'd 'a' gone on an' killed Floyd, after I - halted you, I'd 'a' been a witness agin you, an' I'd 'a' had to testify - that I told you, in so many words, whar the <i>rale</i> blame laid, an' no - jury alive would 'a' spared yore neck.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon that's so,” Wade admitted. “Well, I guess I'll go back, Pole; I - won't go any furder with it. I promise you not to molest that scamp. I'll - not trade any more at his shebang, an' I'll avoid 'im all I kin, but I'll - not kill 'im as I intended.” - </p> - <p> - “Now you're a-talkin' with a clear head an' a clean tongue.” Pole drew a - breath of relief, and stood silent as Wade pulled his horse around, put - his foot into the heavy, wooden stirrup, and mounted. Pole said nothing - until Wade had slowly ridden several paces homeward, then he called out to - him and beckoned him back, going to meet him, leading his horse. - </p> - <p> - “I jest thought o' some'n' else, Jeff—some'n' I want to say fer - myself. I reckon I won't sleep sound to-night or think of anything the - rest o' the day ef I don't git it off my mind.” - </p> - <p> - “What's that, Pole?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I don't feel right about callin' you to halt so rough jest now, an' - talkin' about shootin' holes in you an' the like, fer I hain't nothin' - agin you, Jeff. In fact, I'm yore friend now more than I ever was in all - my life. I feel fer you <i>way down inside o' me</i>. That look on yore - face cuts me as keen as a knife. I—I reckon, Jeff, you sorter feel - like—like yore little sister's dead, don't you?” - </p> - <p> - The rough face looking down from the horse filled. “Like she was dead an' - buried, Pole,” Wade answered. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Jeff”—Pole's voice was husky—“don't you ever think o' - what I said awhile ago about shootin'. Jeff, I jest did that to git yore - attention. You mought a-blazed away at me, but I'll be danged ef I believe - I could 'a' cocked or pulled trigger on you to 'a' saved my soul from - hell.” - </p> - <p> - “Same here, old neighbor,” said Wade, as he wiped his eyes on his - shirt-sleeve. “I wouldn't 'a' tuck them words from no other man on the - face o' God's green globe.” - </p> - <p> - When Wade had ridden slowly away, Pole mounted his own horse. - </p> - <p> - “Now I'll go tell Nelson that the danger is over,” he said. Suddenly, - however, he reined his horse in and sat looking thoughtfully at the - ground. - </p> - <p> - “No, I won't,” he finally decided. “He kin set thar an' wonder what's up. - It won't hurt him to be in doubt, dab blame his hot-blooded skin. Thar I - was in a hair's-breadth of eternity, about to leave a sweet wife an' kids - to starvation an' tumble in a bloody grave, jest beca'se a rich chap like - he is had to have his dirty bout. No, Nelsy, my boy, you look old Death in - the eye fer awhile; it won't do you no harm. Maybe it'll cool you off a - little.” - </p> - <p> - And Pole Baker rode to the thicket where he had hidden his bag of - corn-meal that' morning and took it home. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - X - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>AT afternoon, for - Cynthia Porter, dragged slowly along. The quilt was finished, duly - admired, and laid away. The visiting girls put on their sun-bonnets about - four o'clock and went home. No further news had come from the village in - regard to the impending duel, and each girl hurried away in the fluttering - hope that she would be the first to hear of the outcome. - </p> - <p> - Fifty times during the remainder of the afternoon Cynthia went to the - front-door to see if any one was passing from whom she might hear what had - happened, but the road leading by the house was not a main-travelled one, - and she saw only the shadows fall in advance of the long twilight and - heard the dismal lowing of the cows as they swaggered homeward from the - pasture. Then it was night, and with the darkness a great weight descended - on her young heart that nothing could lift. - </p> - <p> - The simple supper was over by eight o'clock. Her father and mother retired - to their room, and she went, perforce, to hers. Outside the still night, - with its pitiless moonlight, seemed to be a vast, breathless thing under - the awful consciousness of tragedy, deeper than the mere mystery of the - grave. Dead! Nelson Floyd dead! How impossible a thing it seemed, and yet - how could it be otherwise? She threw herself on her bed without - undressing, and lay there staring at her flickering tallow-dip and its - yellow, beckoning ghost in her tilted mirror. Suddenly she heard a step in - the hall. It was a faint, shuffling one, accompanied by the soft slurring - of a hand cautiously sliding along the wall. The girl sat up on the bed - wonderingly, and then the door was softly opened and her grandmother came - in, and with bent form advanced to her. - </p> - <p> - “Sh!” the old woman said, raising a warning hand. “I don't want your ma - and pa to know I came here, darling. They wouldn't understand it. But I - had to come; I couldn't sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, granny, you oughtn't to be up this way!” exclaimed Cynthia. “You know - it is long past your bedtime.” - </p> - <p> - “I know that, honey, I know that,” said the old woman; “but to be late - once in a while won't hurt me. Besides, as I said, I couldn't sleep, - anyway, and so I came in to you. I knew you were wide awake—I felt - that. You see, honey, your ma can't keep anything—even anything she - wants to be silent on has to come out, sooner or later, and I discovered - what was the matter with you this morning. You see, darling, knowing what - your trouble was, old granny felt that it was her duty to try to comfort - you all she could.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, granny, granny!” cried the girl, covering her face with her hands. - </p> - <p> - “The trouble is, I don't know what to say,” continued the old woman; “but - I thought I'd tell you what pride will do sometimes, when anybody calls in - its aid. If—if what they all think is so—if the young man <i>has</i> - really lost his life in—in a matter of such a questionable nature, - then your womanly pride ought to back you up considerably. I have never - alluded to it, Cynthia, for I haven't been much of a hand to encourage - ideas of superiority in one person over another, but away back in the - history of the Radcliffes and the Cuylers and the Prestons, who were our - kin in Virginia, I've been told that the women were beautiful, and great - belles in the society at Richmond, before and, after the Revolution. Why, - honey, I can remember my grandmother telling us children about being at - big balls and dinners where George Washington was entertained, and lords - and ladies of the old country. I was too young to understand what it - meant, but I remember she told us about the great droves of negroes her - father owned, and the carriages and silver, and the big grants of land - from the king to him. One of her uncles was a royal governor, whose wife - was a lady of high title. I was talking to Colonel Price about a month ago - at the veteran's meeting at Cohutta Springs, and he said he had run across - a family history about the Radcliffes where it said all of them came down - from the crowned heads of England. I believe he was right, putting all I - remember to what he said, and, lying in bed just now, it struck me that - maybe one of those ladies away back there would not let a tear drop from - her proud eyes over—over a young man who had met with misfortune as - a consequence of bad conduct. Ever since you were a little girl I have - been proud of your looks, honey. You have fine, delicate features; your - hands are small and taper to the end of the fingers, and your ankles are - slender like a fine-blooded race-horse, and your feet have high insteps - and are pretty in shape. We are poor; we have been so such a long time - that almost all record of the old wealth and power has passed out of our - memory, but a few generations of poverty won't kill well-grounded pride - and dignity.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, granny, granny, you needn't talk to me so,” Cynthia said, calmly. “I - know what you mean, and you sha'n't be ashamed of me. I promise you that.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe you, Cynthia, for you are showing self-respect right now. Go to - bed, dear, and take your mind off of it. I'm going now. Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-night, granny.” Cynthia stood up, and with her arms around the - frail, bowed old woman, she tenderly kissed her on the brow and led her to - the door. - </p> - <p> - “Pride!” she muttered, as the old woman's steps rang in the corridor. - “Pride is only a word. <i>This! this!</i>”—she struck her breast—“is - my soul under a knife. Why did I sit still while she was talking and not - tell her that he was <i>good—good</i>—as good a man as ever - drew human breath? Why didn't I tell her what Pole Baker's wife told me - about his carrying food at midnight on his shoulder (through the swamp, - wet to his waist) to her and the children, when Pole was off on a spree—making - her swear almost on a Bible that she never would tell? And why didn't I - tell her what Mrs. Baker said about his sitting down on the children's bed - when they were asleep and talking so beautifully about their futures, and - all the sadness of his own childhood and his anxiety to know who and what - he was? What if he <i>did</i> meet that Minnie Wade, and she and he—<i>Oh, - my God!</i>” She stood staring at her pale face in her mirror, and then - tottered back to the bed and sank upon it, sitting erect, her tense hands - clutching her knees, as if for support against some invisible torrent that - was sweeping her away. “Dead—oh! and for <i>that</i> reason—he, - Nelson Floyd!” - </p> - <p> - Suddenly a sound fell on her ears. She sprang to her feet, straining her - hearing to catch a repetition of it, her eyes wide, the blood of new life - bounding in her veins. There it was again, the soft, mellow, insistent - call of the whippoorwill from down by the grape-arbor. For a moment she - stood still, crying to herself with an inward voice that had no sound: - “Alive! Alive! Alive!” Then blowing out her candle, she sprang to the door - of her chamber, and opened it, and passed on to the outer one, that was - never locked, and which opened on the front porch. But there, with her - hand on the knob, she paused, clutching it tightly, but not turning the - bolt. Alive; yes, alive, but why? how could it be unless—unless he - had killed Jeff Wade? Ah, that was it—red-handed, and fleeing from - the arm of the law of man and God, he had come to say good-bye. A memory - of her past determination never to meet him clandestinely flashed through - her brain, but it was like overhead lightning that touches nothing, only - warns man of its power and dies away. She turned the bolt and passed out - into the night, running, it seemed, almost with the dragging feet of one - in a nightmare, towards the trysting-place. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, here you are!” Nelson Floyd stood in the door-way of the little - arbor, his arms outstretched. She allowed him to catch her cold, bloodless - hands and lead her to the rustic seat within. - </p> - <p> - They sat down together. She felt his strong arm encompass her but had not - the strength or will to resist. He pressed his cheek down on her cold - brow, then his lips, and clasped one of her hands with his big warm one. - Still she could not put him off. It was like a perplexing dream. There was - the horror, and yet here was vague reassurance that at once inspired hope - and benumbed her. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter, little girl?” he asked, tenderly. “I declare you are - quivering all over.” - </p> - <p> - She sat up. Pushing him back from her, and twisting her hand from his - grasp, she looked straight into his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Jeff Wade!” she gasped. “Jeff Wade!—have you—did you—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I <i>see!</i>” he laughed, awkwardly. “I might have known you would - hear about that. But never mind, little girl, the whole of it was gossip—there - was nothing in it!” - </p> - <p> - “You mean—oh, Nelson, you say that you and he did not—” - </p> - <p> - “Not a bit of it,” he laughed again, mechanically. “Everybody in town this - morning was declaring that Jeff Wade was going to kill me on sight, but it - wasn't true. I haven't seen him to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Nelson, I heard that he'd actually killed you.” - </p> - <p> - “Killed me? Oh, that's a good joke!” he laughed. “But you must promise me - never again to pay any attention to such stuff. The idea! Why, Cynthia, - don't you know better than to believe everything that comes by word of - mouth in this section? I'll bet somebody started that who really wanted me - out of the way. I've got enemies, I know that.” She drew herself still - farther from him, eying him half suspiciously through the darkness. Her - lips were parted; she was getting her breath rapidly, like a feverish - child. - </p> - <p> - “But he was mad at you, I know that. You need not tell me an untruth.” - </p> - <p> - “A man is almost justifiable,” he laughed, “when he wants to keep such - dirty stuff from young, refined ears like yours. Let's not talk of it any - more, little girl. Why spoil this delightful meeting with thoughts of such - things? You have no idea how much I've wanted to see you.” - </p> - <p> - “Then”—she put out her cold hand to the latticework and drew herself - up—“why did you whistle for me? You said you'd—you'd call me - if you—you really needed me badly.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, that's what I did to-night, I assure you,” he laughed. “I felt like - I just <i>had</i> to see you and talk with you. You see, I knew this thing - would finally get to you, and that you would worry and perhaps lose sleep - over it. I knew when you saw me with a whole skin and solid bones that - you'd—” - </p> - <p> - “You flattered yourself that I'd care! Huh, I see! I suppose I'd hate to - see <i>any one</i> shot down in cold blood at a moment's notice like - that.” - </p> - <p> - He caught her hand and laughingly attempted to draw her to him again, but - she remained leaning against the door-frame. - </p> - <p> - “You are not going to be mad at me,” he said, pleadingly, “now, are you?” - </p> - <p> - “No, but I'm going into the house I told you I'd not meet you here after - all the others have gone to bed, when you whistled as you would to your - dog, and I want you to know I would not have come if I had not been - over-excited. Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Wait a moment. I really did want to see you particularly, Cynthia—to - make an engagement. The young folks are all going over to Pine Grove next - Sunday afternoon to attend meeting, and I want to take you in my new buggy - behind my Kentucky horse.” - </p> - <p> - “You couldn't wait till to-morrow to ask me,” she said, interrogatively. - </p> - <p> - “No, I couldn't wait till to-morrow, for that long, slim 'sky-pilot' will - run over before breakfast to ask you to go with him. I know that. But can - I count on you?” - </p> - <p> - She hesitated for a moment, then she said, simply: “Yes, I'll go with you; - but I shall leave you now. Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-night, then. Well, I'll see you Sunday—I guess that will have - to do.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>LOYD sat on the - bench for more than an hour after she had left him. His thoughts were of - himself. He smoked two cigars moodily. The whole day was retracing its - active steps before his eyes, from the moment he opened his ledger to do - his morning's work till now that his naked soul stood shivering in the - darkness before him. His thoughts bounded from one incident in his life to - another, each leap ending in a shudder of discontent. Cynthia's dignified - restraint, and the memory of her helpless, spasmodic leanings both to and - from him, at once weighted him down and thrilled him. Yes, his almost - uncontrollable passion was his chief fault. Would he ever be able to - subdue it and reach his ideal of manhood? Throwing his cigar away, he rose - to leave. His watch told him it was eleven. - </p> - <p> - He did not go towards the house and out at the gate, but took a nearer way - through the orchard, reaching the rail-fence a hundred yards below - Porter's house. He had just climbed over and was detaching himself from - the detaining clutch of numerous blackberry briers, when he saw a head and - pair of shoulders rise from a near-by fence-corner. - </p> - <p> - It was Pole Baker who advanced to him in astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “By gum!” Pole ejaculated. “I come as nigh as pease lettin' a pistol-shot - fly at you. I was passin' an' heard some'n' in the orchard an' 'lowed it - mought be somebody try in' to rob Porter's sweet-potato bed, an', by the - holy Moses, it was you!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it was me, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - The farmer's slow glance left Floyd's face and swept critically along the - fence to the white-posted gate in the distance. - </p> - <p> - “Huh!” he said, and was silent, his eyes roving on to the orchard, where - his glance hovered in troubled perplexity. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I went to see Miss Cynthia,” Floyd explained, after a pause. - </p> - <p> - “Huh, you say you did! Well, I didn't see no light in the parlor when I - passed jest now'. I was particular to look, fer I've been everywhar to - find you, an' Porter's was the last place. By gum! I didn't think a chap - that had been kick'n' the clods o' the grave off'n 'im all day fer a woman - scrape 'ud run straight to another gal before he knowed whether his hide - was liable to remain solid or not.” - </p> - <p> - “I wanted to see Miss Cynthia,” Floyd said, “to ask her to go to - bush-arbor meeting with me Sunday, and I didn't intend to let my affair - with Jeff Wade interfere with it.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh, that was it! an' that's why you are a-comin' out o' Nathan Porter's - orchard at eleven o'clock at night, is it?” - </p> - <p> - Floyd gazed at his rough friend for an instant, just a touch of - irritability in his manner as he made answer: - </p> - <p> - “Miss Cynthia and I were sitting in the grape arbor, behind the house. She - only stayed a minute or two. I sat there a long time after she went in. I - was smoking and was beastly tired.” - </p> - <p> - “I see, I see!” Pole was slightly mollified, but was still to be heard - from. - </p> - <p> - “Now, let me tell you some'n', Nelson,” he pursued. “Thar hain't no flower - that ever bloomed an' throwed out sweet smells that's as nice an' purty as - a pure young gal that's got good, honorable parents, an' the reputation of - a creature like that is more valuable in my sight than all the gold an' - diamonds on earth.” - </p> - <p> - “You certainly are right about that,” Floyd agreed, coldly, for he was - secretly resenting Pole's implied warning. - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” Baker said, even more sternly, “don't you climb out'n Nathan - Porter's orchard at this time o' night ag'in, when thar's a gate with a - latch an' hinges to it right before yore eyes. What ef you'd 'a' been seed - by some tattlin' busybody? You hain't got no more right to run the risk—<i>the - bare risk</i>, I say—o' castin' a stain on that little gal's name - than I have to set fire to yore store an' burn it to the ground. The shack - could be built up ag'in, but that fair name 'ud never be the same ag'in.” - </p> - <p> - “You are thoroughly right, Pole,” Floyd said, regretfully. “I can see it - now. But I'm rather sorry to see you throw it at a feller quite so hard.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon I'm sorter upset,” the farmer said, half apologetically, as they - walked on. “I reckon it was my talk with Jeff Wade about his sister that - got me started. That's mighty nigh broke him all to pieces, Nelson.” - </p> - <p> - “So you met Wade!” Floyd said, quickly. “I thought perhaps you stopped - him.” - </p> - <p> - “You thought I did? What made you think I did?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, when I'd waited till about one o'clock,” Floyd replied, “I started - out to Wade's, and—” - </p> - <p> - “You say you started out thar?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I knew he meant business, and I wanted it settled, one way or the - other, so that I could go back to work, or—” - </p> - <p> - “Or turn yore toes to the sky, you fool!” - </p> - <p> - “I started to say,” Floyd went on, “that I knew something had interfered - with his coming, and—” - </p> - <p> - “He'd 'a' shot seventeen holes in you or 'a' put seventeen balls in one!” - Pole cried, in high disgust. “I finally fixed him all right, but he wasn't - in no frame o' mind to have you come to his house an' rub it in on 'im. - However, you hain't told me what made you think I stopped 'im.” - </p> - <p> - “Why,” said Floyd, “just as I was starting away from the spring, Mel Jones - came running down the hill. He'd been hiding behind a big rock up there to - see the affair, and was awfully disappointed. He begged me to wait a - little longer, and said he was sure Jeff would come on. Then he told me he - saw you in the road near Wade's house, and I understood the whole thing. I - guess I owe my life to you, Pole. It isn't worth much, but I'm glad to - have it, and I'd rather owe you for it than any one I know. What did you - say to Wade?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I told 'im all I knowed about that little frisky piece, and opened - his eyes generally. It's all off, Nelson. He'll let you alone in the - future. He's badly broke up, but it's mostly over findin' out what the gal - was.” - </p> - <p> - They had reached the point where their ways separated, when they heard - several pistol-shots on the mountain road not far away, and prolonged - shouting. - </p> - <p> - “White Caps,” said Pole, succinctly. “They're out on another rampage. Old - Mrs. Snodgrass, by some hook or crook, generally gits on to the'r plans - an' comes over an' reports it to Sally. They are on the'r way now to whip - Sandy McHugh. They've got reliable proof that he stole Widow Henry's pigs, - an' they are goin' to make 'im a proposition. They are a-goin' to give 'im - his choice betwixt a sound whippin' an' reportin' the matter to the grand - jury. They want him to take the lickin' so he kin stay on an' work fer his - wife and childem. I reckon that's what he'll decide to do. Sandy ain't in - no shape to go to the penitentiary.” - </p> - <p> - “I guess he deserves punishment of some sort,” said Floyd, abstractedly, - “though it's a pity to have our society regulated by a band of mountain - outlaws.” - </p> - <p> - “They certainly set matters straight over at Darley,” Pole said. “They - broke up them nigger dives, an' made it safe fer white women to go to - prayer-meetin' at night. Say, Nelson, I'm sorter sorry I spoke so hard - back thar about that little gal's reputation, but the very thought o' the - slightest harm ever comin' to her runs me wild. I never have spoke to you - about it, but I tuck a deliberate oath once to protect 'er with my life, - ef necessary. You see, she's been more than a friend to me. Last winter, - while I was off on one o' my benders, little Billy got sick. He had the - croup an' come as nigh as pease dyin'; he could hardly breathe. It was a - awful night, rainin', snowin', sleetin', an' blowin'. Sally left him long - enough to run over to Porter's to beg somebody to run fer Dr. Stone, an' - Cynthia come to the door an' promised it ud be done. She tried to git old - Nathan up an' dressed, but he was so slow about it—grumblin' all the - time about women bein' scared at nothin'—that Cynthia plunged out in - the storm an' went them two miles herself, an' fetched the doctor jest in - the nick o' time. Then she stayed thar the rest o' that night in 'er wet - clothes, doin' ever'thing she could to help, holdin' Billy in her arms, - an' rockin' 'im back an' forth, while I was—by God, Nelson Floyd, I - was lyin' under the table in Asque's bar so drunk I didn't know my hat - from a hole in the ground. An' when I heard all about it afterwards, I - tuck my oath. I was in the stable feedin' my hoss; he heard all I said, - Nelson, an' I'll be demed ef I don't believe he understood it. I'm here to - say that ef anybody don't believe I'll put a ball in the man that dares to - say one word agin that little angel, all he's got to do is to try it! This - is a hell of a community fer idle talk, anyway, as you know from yore own - experience, an' ef any of it ever touches that gal's fair name I'll kill - tatlers as fast as they open the'r dirty mouths.” - </p> - <p> - “That's the way to look at it, Pole,” Nelson Floyd said, as he turned to - go; “but you'll never have anything to fear in that direction. - Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-night, Nelson. I'll see you in the mornin'. I ought to 'a' been in - bed two hours ago.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ELL I hear that - Sandy McHugh tuck his whippin' like a little man last night,” Pole - remarked to Captain Duncan and Floyd the next morning at the store. “They - say he made strong promises to reform, an', gentlemen, I'm here to tell - you that I believe them White Caps are doin' a purty good work. The - lickin' Sandy got last night from his neighbors an' well-wishers towards - him an' his family is a-goin' to work a bigger change in him than a long - trial at court at the state's expense.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, they say he confessed to the stealing,” said the planter. “And a - thing like that certainly ought to be punished in some way.” - </p> - <p> - “I never stold but once in my life,” Baker laughed, reminiscently, “an' I - was sorter drawed into that. I was goin' with a Tennessee drover down to - Atlanta with a car o' hosses. Old Uncle Abner Daniel was along, an' me'n - him always was sorter thick. We come to Big Shanty, whar the conductor - told us we'd barely have time to run out to the side o' the road an' buy a - snack to eat, an' me'n Uncle Ab made a dash fer the lunch-counter, run by - a bald-headed Dutchman with a bay-window on 'im. Thar was a pile o' - sandwiches on the counter marked ten cents apiece, an' we bought two. I - noticed Uncle Ab sorter twist his face around when he looked in his'n, an' - then I seed that the ham inside of 'em both wasn't any thicker'n a piece - o' paper. - </p> - <p> - “'Look here, Pole' said Uncle Ab, 'I bought a <i>sandwich</i>; I didn't - agree to pay that fat thief ten cents o' my hard money fer two pieces o' - bread that don't even smell o' meat.' - </p> - <p> - “'Well, what you goin' to do about it?' says I. - </p> - <p> - “'Do about it?' says he, an' then he sorter winked, an' as the Dutchman - had turned to his stove whar he was fryin' some eggs, Uncle Ab stuck out - his long fingers an slid a slice o' ham out o' the top sandwich in the - stack an' slyly laid it betwixt his bread. I deprived the one under it of - all the substance it held, an' me'n Uncle Ab was munchin' away when two - passengers, a big man an' a little, sawed-off one, run up jest as the - whistle blowed. They throwed down the'r dimes an' grabbed the two top - sandwiches, an' we all made a break fer the train an' got in together. The - fellers set right behind me'n Uncle Ab, an' when they begun to eat you - never heard sech cussin'. 'Damn it, thar hain't a bit o' ham in mine!' the - big feller said; an' then the little 'un ripped out an oath, an' reached - up an' tried to git at the bell-cord. 'The damn pot-gutted thief didn't - even <i>grease</i> mine,' he said, an' they both raised windows an' looked - back an' shook the'r fists an' swore they'd kill that Dutchman the next - time they seed 'im. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I'd actually die laughin'. Uncle Ab set thar with the - straightest face you ever looked at, but his eyes was twinklin' like stars - peepin' through wet clouds. - </p> - <p> - “Finally he said, 'Pole,' said he, 'this experience ort to teach us a - lesson. You cayn't down wrong with wrong. We started in to beat that - swindler at his game, an' ended up by robbin' two hungry an' honest - wayfarers.'” - </p> - <p> - Floyd and Captain Duncan laughed. It seemed that there was a disposition - on the part of both Pole and the planter not to allude to the unpleasant - affair of the preceding day, though Floyd, in his sensitive attitude in - regard to it, more than once fancied it was in their minds. - </p> - <p> - “There is a personal matter, Floyd,” said Duncan, after a silence of - several minutes, “that I have been wanting to speak to you about. It is in - regard to your parentage. I've heard that you are greatly interested in it - and would like to have it cleared up.” - </p> - <p> - “I confess it, captain,” Floyd said. “I suppose that is a feeling that - would be natural to any one placed as I am.” - </p> - <p> - “Most decidedly,” Duncan agreed. “And it is my opinion that when you do - discover what you are looking for, it will all seem so simple and plain - that you will wonder how you could have missed it so long. I don't think - it is possible for a thing like that to remain hidden always.” - </p> - <p> - “It certainly has foiled me, captain,” Floyd replied. “I have spent more - money and made more effort than you would dream of, but met with - disappointment on every hand.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps you didn't look close enough at home,” said Duncan. “I confess - the thing has interested me a good deal, and the more I see of you, and - observe your pluck and courage, the more I would like to see you discover - what you want.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, captain,” Floyd said, earnestly. - </p> - <p> - “I'm going to confess something else, too,” the planter went on, “now that - I see you don't resent my interest. The truth is, I had a talk with - Colonel Price about it. You know he understands more about genealogy and - family histories than any man in the county. I asked him if he didn't - think that your given name, 'Nelson,' might not tend to show that you - were, in some way, related to a family by that name. Price agreed with me - that it was likely, and then it flashed on me that I knew a man down in - Atlanta by the name of Floyd—Henry A. Floyd—whose mother was - one of the South Carolina Nelsons.” - </p> - <p> - “Is it possible?” the young merchant asked, leaning forward in almost - breathless interest. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and he is a man of good standing, but very unsuccessful financially—a - man who was educated for the law, and failed at it, and now, I believe, - lives only on the income from a big farm in Bartow County. I knew him - quite well when we were both young men; but he never married, and of late - years he seems soured against everybody. I met him at the Capitol in - Atlanta only last week, and tried to get him interested in your family - matter. At first, from his evident surprise that there could be any one - bearing both those names up here, I thought he was going to reveal - something that would aid you. But after asking me three or four questions - about you, he closed up, and that was the end of it. He said he knew - nothing of your parentage, but that he was sure you were no kin of his.” - </p> - <p> - “Say, captain”—Pole Baker broke into the conversation—“would - you mind tellin' me right here what you told 'im about Nelson? I've seed - the old cuss; I've been on his farm; I once thought about rentin' land - from 'im. Did you tell 'im Nelson was a man of high standing here—that - he was about the richest young chap in the county an' got more grit than a - car-load o' sand-paper?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” Duncan laughed. “He didn't let me get that far, Baker. In hopes of - rousing his sympathy, I reckon I laid a good deal of stress on Floyd's - early misfortune. Of course, I was going to tell him all about you, Floyd, - but, as I say, he didn't give me a good chance.” - </p> - <p> - “You were quite right, captain,” Floyd returned. “Pole would have made me - appear ridiculous.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh! I'd a got more out o' the old fossil than Captain Duncan did,” Pole - declared, positively, “You knowed how to manage men in the war, captain, - an' you are purty good at bossin' an overseer when you are at a hotel in - Florida an' he's fillin' a sack in yore corn-crib at home, but I'll bet my - hat you didn't tackle that feller right. Knowing that he was down in the - mouth, unlucky, an' generally soured agin the world, I'd never a-tried to - git 'im interested in pore kin he'd never seed. I'll bet a quart o' rye to - two fingers o' spilt cider that he'd 'a' talked out o' t'other side o' his - mouth ef I'd a been thar to sorter show 'im the kind o' kin that he mought - scrape up ef he turned his hand to it. You let me run agin that old skunk, - an' I'll have him settin' up the drinks an' axin' me more questions than a - Dutchman l'arnin' to talk our language. Shucks! I'm jest a mountain-scrub, - but I know human natur'. Thar comes old Mayhew. He'll order us out—it's - treat, trade, or travel with that old skunk.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ILLHOUSE had gone - over to Porter's early that morning. He found Nathan seated on the porch - in his shirt-sleeves, his heavy shoes unlaced for comfort and a hand-made - cob-pipe in his mouth. “I want to see Miss Cynthia a moment,” the preacher - said, with a touch of embarrassment as he came in at the gate, his hat in - hand. - </p> - <p> - Old Porter rose with evident reluctance. “All right,” he said. “I'll see - ef I kin find 'er—ef I do it will be the fust time I ever run across - her, or any other woman, when she was needed.” - </p> - <p> - He returned in a moment “She'll be out in a few minutes,” he said. “She - told me to tell you to set down here on the porch.” - </p> - <p> - Hillhouse took a vacant seat, holding his hat daintily on his sharp knees, - and Porter resumed his chair, tilting it backward as he talked. - </p> - <p> - “Ef you are ever unlucky enough to git married, parson,” he said, “you'll - know more about women than you do now, an' at the same time you'll swear - you know less. They say the Maker of us all has unlimited knowledge, but - I'll be blamed ef I believe He could understand women—even ef he <i>did</i> - create 'em. I'm done with the whole lot!” Porter waved his hand, as if - brushing aside something of an objectionable nature. “They never do a - thing that has common-sense in it. I believe they are plumb crazy when it - comes to tacklin' anything reasonable. I'll give you a sample. Fer the - last ten years I have noticed round about here, that whenever a man died - the women folks he left sent straight to town an' bought a high-priced - coffin to lay 'im away in. No matter whether the skunk had left a dollar - to his name or not, that Jew undertaker over thar at Darley, to satisfy - family pride, sent out a coffin an' trimmin's to the amount of an even - hundred dollars. I've knowed widows an' orphans to stint an' starve an' go - half naked fer ten years to pay off a debt like that. Now, as I'm - financially shaped, I won't leave but powerful little, an' that one thing - worried me considerable. Now an' then I'd sorter spring the subject on my - women, an' I found out that they thought a big splurge like that was the - only decent way to act over a man's remains. Think o' the plumb - foolishness, parson, o' layin' a man away on a silk-plush cushion after - he's dead, when he's slept all his life on a common tick stuffed with - corn-shucks with the stubs on 'em. But that's <i>women!</i> Well, I set to - work to try to beat 'em at the game, as fur as <i>I</i> was concerned. I - 'lowed ef I made my preparations myself ahead o' time, with the clear - understandin' that I wanted it that away, why, that no reasonable person - would, or could, raise objections.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see!” Hillhouse said, his mind evidently on something else. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you may see—an' any other reasonable <i>man</i> could—but - you don't see what them women done. - </p> - <p> - “Well, to go on. I went down to Swinton's new mill, whar he was sawin' out - pine planks, an' set around all mornin', an' whenever I seed a solid - heart-plank run out, I'd nab it an' lay it aside. Then, when I'd got - enough to make me a good, roomy box, I axed 'im what the pile was wuth an' - got the lot at a bargain, beca'se times was dull an' I was on the spot. - Well, I hauled the planks home on my wagon an' unloaded at the barn. The - women, all three, come out like a lot o' hens peckin' around an' begun to - ax questions. They 'lowed I was goin' to make some shelves fer the - smoke-house, to lay hams an' shoulders on, an' they was powerful tickled. - I didn't let 'em know right then. But the next day when Jim Long come with - his hammer an' nails an' saw an' plane, an' stood me up agin the wall in - the woodshed, an' started to measure me up an' down an' sideways, they - begun to scream an' take on at a desperate rate. It was the fust time I - ever heard mournin' at my own funeral, an' it sorter upset me; but I told - Jim to go ahead, an' he did start, but, la me! The whole lay-out run to - 'im an' got around 'im an' threatened, an' went on at sech a rate that he - throwed up the job an' went home. I got mad an' went off fishin', an' when - I come back I found all o' them fine, new planks split up into kindlin' - fer the stove, an' it wasn't a week 'fore my burial outfit was turned into - ashes. I kin see now that when my time comes my folks will rake an' scrape - to git up money to put me in a box so thin that a dead man could kick a - hole in it.” - </p> - <p> - “They have their way of looking at such matters,” the preacher ventured, - awkwardly. “Death is a serious thing, brother Porter, and it affects most - people deeply.” - </p> - <p> - “It hain't so serious on a cash basis as it is on a credit,” Nathan - declared. “But thar Cynthia comes now.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm an early bird, Miss Cynthia.” Hillhouse was actually flushed. “That - is, I don't mean to hint that you are a worm, you know; but the truth is, - I was afraid if I didn't come quick some hawk of a fellow would bear you - away to bush-arbor meeting next Sunday afternoon. Will you let me take - you?” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia's face clouded over. “I'm very sorry,” she said, “but I have - already promised some one else.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, is that so?” Hillhouse could not disguise his disappointment. “Are - you going with—with—” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Floyd asked me,” the girl answered, “and I told him I'd go. I'm very - sorry to disappoint you.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, Cynthia”—Mrs. Porter had approached and stood in the door-way, - staring perplexedly at her daughter—“you told me last night just - before you went to bed that you had no engagement for Sunday. Have you had - a note already this morning?” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia, in some confusion, avoided her mother's sharp, probing look. - </p> - <p> - “It doesn't matter,” she said, lamely. “I've promised to go with Mr. - Floyd, and that is sufficient.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, that is sufficient, of course,” Hillhouse said, still under his - cloud of disappointment, “and I hope you will have a pleasant time. The - truth is, Floyd is hard to beat at anything. He has a way about him that - wins the—perhaps I may say—the sympathy of nearly all ladies.” - </p> - <p> - A reply of some sort was struggling for an outlet in Cynthia's rapidly - rising and falling bosom, but her mother forestalled her with tight lips - and eyes that were flashing ominously. - </p> - <p> - “Brother Hillhouse,” she said, “a man of that stamp has more influence - over girls of the present generation than any other kind. Let a man be - moral, religious, and sober, and thoughtful of the reputations of women, - and he is shoved aside for the sort of men who fight duels and break - hearts and ruin happy homes for their own idle gratification.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mrs. Porter, I didn't mean to raise such a—a point as that,” - Hillhouse stammered. “I'm sure Miss Cynthia appreciates all that is good - in humanity; in fact, I think she leans decidedly that way. I couldn't - expect her to let a little public gossip turn her against a friend whom - she believes in.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Mr. Hillhouse,” Cynthia said, drawing herself up to her full - height and turning to go in. “I appreciate the way you look at it.” - </p> - <p> - She went into the house, walking very straight and not looking back. - </p> - <p> - Porter stood up and knocked the ashes from his pipe in his hard, broad - hand. “Do you see that thar gate, parson?” he laughed. “Well, you take a - fool's advice an' go home, an' come back some other time. Neither one o' - them women know what they are a-talkin' about, an' they'll have you as - crazy as they are in ten minutes ef you try to follow 'em.” - </p> - <p> - When Hillhouse had gone, Mrs. Porter went back into the sitting-room and - stood over Cynthia as the girl sat sewing at a window. - </p> - <p> - “You may <i>think</i> you've got my eyes closed,” the old woman said, “but - you haven't. You didn't have any engagement with Nelson Floyd last night - at supper, and you either saw him after we went to bed or you have had a - secret note from him this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “Have it your own way,” Cynthia said, indifferently, and hot with vexation - she bent her head over her work. - </p> - <p> - “I was watching your face this morning, too,” Mrs. Porter went on, “when - your pa came in and said that Wade did not meet Floyd at the spring, and I - noticed that you did not seem at all surprised. I'll get at the bottom of - this, now you see if I don't!” And white with suppressed anger, Mrs. - Porter turned away. - </p> - <p> - As she went out Mrs. Radcliffe, with a tottering step, came into the room - and drew near to Cynthia. - </p> - <p> - “I am worried about your mother,” she said, standing with her thin hand - resting on the window-frame. “She troubles so much over small things. I - shudder when I think about it, Cynthia; but I'm afraid she'll go like your - aunt did. It seems to be inherited from your grandfather's side of the - family.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you really afraid of that, granny?” The girl looked up, a serious - expression dawning in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I don't know as I think she'd actually kill herself, as Martha did, - but if this goes on her mind certainly will give way. It's not natural—it's - too great a strain for one human brain to stand. She didn't sleep a wink - last night I know that, for I woke up several times and heard her moving - about and sighing.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor mamma!” Cynthia said, regretfully, to herself, as her grandmother - moved slowly from the room. “And I spoke disrespectfully to her just now. - Besides, perhaps I have given her cause to worry, from her stand-point. - God forgive me, I really <i>did</i> go out to meet him that way, and if - she thinks it would be so bad, what must he think? Is it possible for him - to class me with—to think of me as—as he does of—Oh!” - and with a hot flush burning her face, Cynthia rose hastily and put her - work away. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>T one o'clock the - following Sunday afternoon Nelson Floyd drove up to Porter's gate in his - new buggy, behind his spirited Kentucky thorough-bred. Nathan Porter in - his stockinged feet, for the day was warm, stood on the porch, and as - Floyd reined in, he walked down the steps and out to the gate, leaning - over it lazily, his slow, pleased glance critically sweeping the horse - from head to foot. - </p> - <p> - “You've got you a dandy at last,” was his observation. “I used to be - some'n' of a judge. Them's the slimmest legs fer sech a good stout body I - ever seed. He totes his head high without a check-rein, too, an' that's - purty. I reckon you come after Cynthia. She'll be out here in a minute. - She knows you've come; she kin see the road from the window o' her room. - An' I never knowed a woman that could keep from peepin' out.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I'm in no hurry at all,” Floyd assured him. “It's only ten miles, and - we can easily make it by the three o'clock service.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well, I reckon it don't make no odds to you whether you hold <i>yore</i> - meetin' in that hug-me-tight or under the arbor. I know my choice 'ud 'a' - been jest one way when I was on the turf. Camp-meetin's an' bush-arbor - revivals used to be our hay-time. Us boys an' gals used to have a great - way o' settin' in our buggies, jest outside, whar we could chat all we - wanted to, jine in the tunes, an' at the same time git credit fer properly - observin' the day.” - </p> - <p> - “That's about the way the young people look at it now,” Floyd said, with a - smile. - </p> - <p> - “I reckon this is a sort o' picnic to you in more ways than one,” Porter - remarked, without a trace of humor in his tone, as he spat over the gate - and wiped his chin on his bare hand. “You ort to enjoy a day o' freedom, - after waitin' two hours at that spring fer Jeff Wade. Gee whiz! half o' - Springtown was behind barracks, sayin' prayers an' beggin' the Lord to - spare the town from flames. I didn't stay myself. I don't object to - watchin' a fisticuff match once in a while, but fellers in a - powder-and-ball battle like that seem to try to mow down spectators as - hard as they do the'r man. Then I don't like to be questioned in court. A - feller has to forgit so dern much, ef he stands to his friends.” - </p> - <p> - “No, we avoided trouble,” said Floyd, in evident aversion to a topic so - keenly personal. “So you like my horse! He is really the best I could get - at Louisville.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon.” Porter spat again. “Well, as you say, Wade <i>will</i> shoot - an' he kin, too. When he was in the war, they tell me his colonel wanted - some sharpshooters an' selected 'im to—but thar's that gal now. Gee - whiz! don't she look fluffy?” - </p> - <p> - For the most part, the drive was through the mountains, along steep roads, - past yawning gorges, and across rapid, turbulent streams. It was an ideal - afternoon for such an outing, and Cynthia had never looked so well, though - she was evidently fatigued. Floyd remarked upon this, and she said: “I - don't know why it was, but I waked at three o'clock this morning, and - could not get back to sleep before father called me at six. Since then I - have been hard at work. I'm afraid I shall feel very tired before we get - back.” - </p> - <p> - “You must try not to think of fatigue.” Floyd was admiring her color, her - hair, her eyes. “Then you ought to relax yourself. There is no use sitting - so erect; if you sit that way the jolting over this rough road will break - you all to pieces. Don't lean so far from me. I'm not going to hurt you. - I'm glad I beat Hillhouse to you. I saw him going to your house the next - morning. I know he asked you.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he asked me,” Cynthia said, “and I was sorry to disappoint him.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd laughed. “Well, the good and the bad are fighting over you, little - girl. One man who, in the eyes of the community, stands for reckless - badness, has singled you out, and thrown down the gauntlet to a man who - represents the Church, God, and morality—both are grimly fighting - for the prettiest human flower that ever grew on a mountain-side.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't like to hear you talk that way.” Cynthia looked him steadily in - the eyes. “It sounds insincere; it doesn't come from your heart. I don't - like your compliments—your open flattery. You say the same things to - other girls.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh no; I beg your pardon, but I don't. I couldn't. They don't inspire - them as you do. You—you tantalize me, Cynthia; you drive me crazy - with your maddening reserve—the way you have of thinking things no - man could read in your face, and above it all, through it all, your - wonderful beauty absolutely startles me—makes me at times unable to - speak, clogs my utterance, and fires my brain. I don't know—I can't - understand it, but you are in my mind all day long, and at night, after my - work is over, I want to wander about your house—not with the hope of - having you actually come out, you know, but to enjoy the mere fancy that - you have joined me.” - </p> - <p> - A reply was on her hesitating lips, but his ardor and impetuosity swept it - away, and she sat with lowered lashes looking into her lap. The horse had - paused to drink at a clear brook running across the road. All about grew - graceful, drooping willows. It was a lonely spot, and it seemed that they - were quite out of the view of all save themselves. Cynthia's pink hand lay - like a shell in her lap, and he took it into his. For an instant it - thrilled as if the spirit of resistance had suddenly waked in it, and then - it lay passive. Floyd raised it to his lips and kissed it, once, twice, - several times. He held it ecstatically in both his own, and fondled it. - Then suddenly an exclamation of surprise escaped Cynthia's lips, and with - her eyes glued on some object ahead, she snatched her hand away, her face - hot with blushes. Following her glance, Floyd saw a man with his coat on - his arm rising from the ground where he had been resting on the moss. It - was Pole Baker, and with his shaggy head down, his heavy brows drawn - together, he came towards them. - </p> - <p> - “I was jest waitin' fer somebody to pass an' give me a match,” he said to - Floyd, almost coldly, without a glance at Cynthia. “I'm dyin' to smoke - this cigar.” - </p> - <p> - “What are you doing out afoot?” Floyd asked, as he gave him several - matches. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I'm goin' to meetin', too. I know a short foot-path through the - mountains. Sally an' the chil-dem didn't want to come, an' I'd a heap - ruther walk five miles than to ride ten over a road like this 'un. I'd - sorter be afeard of a mettlesome hoss like that'un. Ef he was to git - scared an' break an' run, neither one o' you'd escape among these cliffs - an' gullies.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I can hold him in,” Floyd said. “Well, we'd better drive on. Do you - think you can get there as soon as we do, Pole?” - </p> - <p> - “I won't miss it much,” said the farmer, and they saw him disappear in a - shaded path leading down the mountain-side. - </p> - <p> - “He puzzles me,” Floyd said, awkwardly. “For a minute I imagined he was - offended at something.” - </p> - <p> - “He saw you—holding my hand.” Cynthia would not say <i>kissing</i>. - The word had risen to her tongue, but she instinctively discarded it. - “He's been almost like a brother to me He has a strong character, and I - admire him very much. I always forget his chief weakness; he never seems - to me to be a drunkard. He has the highest respect for women of any man I - ever knew. I'm sorry—just now—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, never mind Pole,” Floyd broke in, consolingly. “He's been a young man - himself, and he knows how young people are. Now, if you begin to worry - over that little thing, I shall be miserable. I set out to make you have a - pleasant drive.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>N hour later they - arrived at the bush-arbor, a rough shed upon which rested a roof of - freshly cut boughs of trees and on which there were benches without backs. - The ground was strewn with straw, and at the far end was a crude platform - and table where several ministers sat. - </p> - <p> - Leaving his companion near the main entrance, Floyd led his horse some - distance away before he could find a suitable place to hitch him. - Returning, he found a seat for himself and Cynthia near the rear. They had - not been there long before Pole Baker slouched in, warm and flushed from - his walk, and sat directly across the aisle from them. Floyd smiled and - called Cynthia's attention to him, but Pole stared straight at the pulpit - and neither looked to the right nor left. Floyd noticed a farmer bend over - and speak to him, and was surprised to see that Pole made no response - whatever. With a puzzled expression on his face, the farmer sank back into - his seat. - </p> - <p> - The meeting was opened with prayer and a hymn. Then Hillhouse, who had - arrived a little late, came in, a Bible and hymn-book in hand, and went - forward and sat with the other ministers. Floyd noted the shifting look of - dissatisfaction on his thin face, and his absent-minded manner, as he - exchanged perfunctory greetings with those around him. - </p> - <p> - “Poor fellow!” Floyd said to himself, “he's hard hit, and no wonder.” He - glanced at the fair face at his elbow and thrilled from head to foot. She - was certainly all that a woman could possibly be. - </p> - <p> - Then there was a rousing sermon from the Rev. Edward Richardson, an - eloquent mountain evangelist. His pleadings bore immediate fruit. Women - began to shed tears, and sob, and utter prayers aloud. This was followed - by tumultuous shouting, and the triumphant evangelist closed his talk by - asking all who felt like it to kneel where they were and receive prayers - for their benefit. Half of the congregation fell on their knees. “Did you - see that?” Floyd whispered to Cynthia, and he directed her attention to - Pole Baker, who was kneeling on the ground, his great, heavily shod feet - under the seat in front of him, his elbows on his own bench, and his big, - splaying hands pressed over his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Poor fellow!” she whispered back, “he is making fresh resolutions to quit - drinking, I suppose. I'm so sorry for him. He tries harder to reform for - the sake of his wife and children than any man I know. Sometimes I am - afraid he never will succeed.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps not,” said Floyd. “You see, I know what it is, Cynthia.” - </p> - <p> - “You?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, of course, it almost got me down once. There was a point in my life - when I could have been blown one way or the other as easily as a feather. - I don't want to pose as being better than I am, and I confess that I am - actually afraid at times that it may again get the best of me. God only - knows how a man has to fight a thing like that after it has once become a - habit. As long as matters are like they are now, I can hold my own, I am - sure; but I actually believe if I had to meet some absolutely crushing - blow to all my hopes and aspirations, I'd—I'd really be as weak as - Pole is.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't believe it,” said Cynthia, raising her frank eyes to his. “I - don't believe a word of it,” she repeated, firmly. - </p> - <p> - “You don't? Well, perhaps your faith will save me.” - </p> - <p> - The prayer over, the preacher next called on all who felt that they needed - special spiritual help in any particular trial, affliction, or trouble to - come forward and give him their hands. Several men and women responded, - and among them, to Floyd's growing astonishment, was Pole Baker. He stood - erect at his seat for an instant, and then, with his long arms swinging at - his sides, he walked up and shook hands stiffly with the minister. - </p> - <p> - “You were right about it,” Floyd said to Cynthia. “I reckon he's making - new resolutions. But where is the fellow going?” - </p> - <p> - They saw Pole, after releasing the preacher's hand, turn out at the side - of the arbor, and slowly stalk away towards the spot where Floyd had - hitched his horse. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps he's going to start back home,” Cynthia said. “It's getting late - and cloudy, and he has a long walk before him.” - </p> - <p> - “That's it,” said Floyd. “And footing it through the woods as dark as it - is even now is no simple matter; though Pole really has the instincts of a - red Indian. But I don't understand it, for he is not headed towards home.” - </p> - <p> - There was another earnest talk from another preacher, and then Hillhouse - closed the meeting with a prayer. - </p> - <p> - Leaving Cynthia at the arbor, Floyd went down for his horse. He was not - far from the buggy when he saw Pole Baker rise from a flat stone upon - which he had been seated. Without looking at him, Pole went to the - hitch-rein and unfastened it, and led the restive animal around in the - direction he was to go. - </p> - <p> - “Much obliged to you, old man,” Floyd said, deeply touched by the action. - “I could have done that myself.” - </p> - <p> - “I know it, Nelson,” Pole responded; “but I've got some'n' to say to you, - an' as it is late an' may take a minute or two, I thought I'd save all the - time I could an' not keep yore little partner waitin'.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you want to see me, do you?” - </p> - <p> - Pole hesitated, his glance on the ground; the sockets of his big eyes were - full-looking, and the muscles of his face and great neck were twitching. - Presently he stared Floyd steadily in the eyes and began: - </p> - <p> - “Nelson, you've knowed me a good many years in the way one man knows a - friend an' neighbor, or even a brother, but you don't plumb understand me - yit. The Lord God Almighty's made men side by side in life as different as - two kinds o' plants, or two sorts o' minerals. Me'n' you is friends, an' - I'm a-goin' to say at the start that I love you as a brother, but we see - things different—me'n' you do—we act different about some - things. That's what I want to see you about.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see!” Floyd had never been more perplexed in his life, but he - waited for Pole's explanation. - </p> - <p> - “I hain't here to reflect on the character of women in general, nuther,” - said Baker, “though what I say mought sound like it to the shallow-minded. - I'm here to tell you that the Lord God has made some o' the sweetest an' - best an' purest women that ever lived unable to resist the fire the devil - kindles in some men's eyes. Jest as the Almighty allowed Old Nick to play - smash right among the elected angels o' heaven tell he was kicked out, so - does he let 'im play hell an' damnation with the best an' purest here on - earth, usin' as his devilish instrument men who excuse the'rselves on the - plea that it's human natur'. A good woman will sometimes be as helpless - under a hot-blooded man's eye and voice as a dove is when it flutters an' - stands wonderin' before a rattlesnake that means to devour it soul and - body.” - </p> - <p> - “Pole, what's all this mean?” Floyd asked, slightly irritated. - </p> - <p> - “You wait an' see, dern yore hide!” said Pole. “Ef I kin afford to talk to - you when I'm due at my home an' fireside, you kin afford to listen, fer ef - it don't do you some good, it will be the beginnin' o' more harm than you - ever had to tackle in yore short life. I want to tell you, Nelson, that - that little woman you drove out here has been as true a friend to me as <i>you</i> - have, an' if I have to side with one or the other, it will be with the - weakest one.” - </p> - <p> - “She's made sacrifices fer me. She saved little Billy's life, an' one day - while I was lyin' too drunk to hold my head up in the swamp betwixt her - daddy's house an' mine, she found me thar an' run an' fetched fresh water - in my hat, an' bathed my nasty, bloated face with her wet handkerchief, - an' kept tellin' me to brace up an' not go home that away an' make my wife - feel bad. She done that, Nelson Floyd, <i>an', by the holy God</i>, ef you - think I'm a-goin' to set idle an' even <i>think</i> thar's <i>a bare resk</i> - o' her bein' made unhappy by a big, strappin' thing in pants, an' a vest, - an' coat, an' a blue neck tie, you've got little enough sense to need a - guardeen to look after yore effects. I don't say thar <i>is</i> danger nor - thar hain't, but I seed you doin' a thing back thar on the road that - didn't strike me as bein' plumb right, coupled with what I seed when you - climbed over the fence o' Nathan Porter's orchard nigh midnight not long - back. I've already told you I love you like a brother, but while meetin' - was goin' on I made up my mind to say this to you. I got down at the - preacher's invite an' prayed on it, an' I went forward an' give 'im my - hand on it, axin' the sanction o' the Lord on it, an' I'm here to tell you - to yore teeth, Nelson, that ef a hair o' that bonny head is harmed <i>through - you</i> I will kill you as I would a p'ison snake! Now, I've said it. I'd - 'a' had to say it ef you had been my twin brother, an' I'm not a-goin' to - be sorry fer it, nuther. Yore a good, well-meanin' young man, but you - ain't yorese'f when you give way to hot blood.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd was standing behind the neck of his horse, and for an instant Pole - could not see his face. There was silence for a moment. Then Floyd came - round the horse and stood facing the mountaineer. He was pale, his lower - lip was twitching; there was a look in his eyes Baker had never seen there - before. - </p> - <p> - “Pole,” he said, “I'd shoot any other man on God's earth for talking to me - as you have. - </p> - <p> - “You mean you'd <i>try</i>, Nelson.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I mean I'd try; but I can't be mad at you. We've been too close for - that, Pole. I admire you more than any man alive. With all your faults, - you have done more, in the long run, to lift me up than any other - influence. I don't know what to say to you. I—I feel your words - keenly, but you understand that I cannot, after what you have said, and - the way you've said it, make promises. That would really be—be an - insult to—to the lady in question, and an acknowledgment that no - brave man could make to another.” - </p> - <p> - “I understand that, Nelson.” And Pole, with a softened face, held out his - big, warm hand. “Shake, old boy. Let it all pass. Now that you understand - me, I'm goin' to trust you like a friend. No good man will harm the sister - of a friend, noway, an' that's what she is to me. She's my little sister, - Nelson. Now, you go take 'er home. I don't like the looks o' that cloud in - the west,' an' I don't like the way that hoss o' your'n keeps layin' back - his ears an' snortin' at ever' leaf that blows by.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XVI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>LOYD drove on to - the bush-arbor and helped Cynthia into the buggy. - </p> - <p> - “Was that Pole Baker talking to you?” she questioned. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he wanted to speak to me,” said Floyd, seriously. “He unhitched my - horse and turned him around.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose he is making resolutions to reform?” - </p> - <p> - Floyd shrugged his shoulders unconsciously. “Yes, he's always doing that - sort of thing. He's afraid there may be a storm, too. He's the best - weather prophet I know. If the cloud were behind us I shouldn't be - concerned at all, for Jack could outrun it.” - </p> - <p> - They were driving into a lonely, shaded part of the road, and there they - noticed more plainly the darkness that had rapidly fallen over the - landscape. Cynthia shivered, and Floyd tried to see the expression of her - face, but she was looking down and he was unable to do so. - </p> - <p> - “Are you really afraid?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “I was thinking about how narrow the road is,” she made answer, “and of - the awful cliffs along beside it. Then Jack seems restless and excited. If - the lightning were to begin to flash, or should strike near us, he might—” - </p> - <p> - “Don't worry,” Floyd broke in, calmly. “It is this long, dark road that - makes you nervous. We'll get out of it in a few minutes.” - </p> - <p> - But they were delayed. Jack, frightened at some imaginary object ahead, - paused, and with his fore-feet firmly planted in front of him, he stood - snorting, his ears thrown back. His master gently urged him to go on, but - he refused to move. Then Floyd touched his flanks with the lash of the - whip, but this only caused the animal to rear up in a dangerous manner and - start to turn round. The road was too narrow for this, however, and - throwing the reins into Cynthia's lap, Floyd got out and went to the - horse's head, and holding to the bridle, he gently stroked the face and - neck of the animal. But although Floyd tried, Jack would not be led - forward. The situation was really grave, for the time was passing and - night was already upon them. From his position at the animal's head, Floyd - could barely see Cynthia in her white shawl and dress. Along the black - horizon the lightning was playing, and the rising wind bore to their faces - fine drops of rain. It was a sudden crash of thunder behind them that made - the horse start forward, and it was with some difficulty that Floyd got - into the buggy from behind. Then they dashed forward at a perilous speed. - On they went, over the rough road. Even out in the open it was now dark, - and in the distance they heard the ominous roar and crash of the - approaching storm. The situation was indeed critical. Once more they ran - into a road so dark that they could scarcely see Jack's head. Suddenly - Floyd drew rein, stopped the quivering horse, and looked closely at the - ground. Cynthia heard an exclamation of dismay escape his lips. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” she asked. He made no answer till she had repeated her - question. - </p> - <p> - “This is the same road we passed over half an hour ago,” he said. “We have - gone the wrong way. We are lost, little girl!” - </p> - <p> - Even at that grave moment he felt a thrill of admiration at her coolness. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” she said, “we must make the best of it and not get excited. If we - lose our heads there is no telling what may happen.” - </p> - <p> - “What a brave little woman you are!” he said. “Do you remember? The road - forks about a quarter of a mile ahead; when we went by just now, we took - either the right or the left, but I've forgotten which.” - </p> - <p> - “We took the right,” she said. “I remember that distinctly.” - </p> - <p> - “Then we must take the left this time—that is, if you are sure.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm very sure.” - </p> - <p> - “Good; then we must drive on as fast as we can.” - </p> - <p> - “You'd better go slowly,” Cynthia cautioned him. “The road is very, very - dangerous, and if Jack should become frightened as we are passing a cliff - there is no telling what—” - </p> - <p> - She did not finish, for there was a bright flash of lightning in their - faces, followed by a deafening clap of thunder on the mountain-side above - them. With a terrified snort, Jack plunged onward. They reached the point - where the roads divided, and Floyd managed to pull the animal into the - right one. For half an hour they sped onward. Every effort Floyd made to - check the horse was foiled; the spirited animal seemed to have taken the - bit between his teeth. Then the storm broke upon them in alarming fury, - and they suddenly found themselves before a high, isolated building. The - horse, as with almost human instinct, had paused. - </p> - <p> - “It's Long's mill,” Floyd told Cynthia. “It's not in use. Pole and I - stopped here to rest when we were out hunting last month. The door is not - locked. There is a shed and stable behind for horses. We must get in out - of danger.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia hesitated. “Is it the only thing?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it might cost us our lives to drive on, and it is two miles to the - nearest house.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, then.” He was already on the ground, and she put her hands on - his shoulders and sprang down. - </p> - <p> - “Now, run up the steps,” he said. “The door opens easily. I'll lead Jack - around to the shed and be back in a minute.” - </p> - <p> - She obeyed, and when he returned after a few moments he found her on the - threshold waiting for him, her beautiful, long hair blown loose by the - fierce wind. - </p> - <p> - They stood side by side in the darkness for a few minutes, and then a - torrent of rain dashed down upon the roof like tons of solid matter, which - threatened to crush the building like an egg-shell. He pushed her back, - and with a great effort managed to close the big sliding-door. - </p> - <p> - “We must keep the wind out,” he said. “If we don't the mill will be blown - away.” - </p> - <p> - It was now too dark for them to see each other at all, and the roar of the - storm rendered speech between them almost impossible. She suddenly felt - his hands grasp hers, and then he shouted, as he held them in his tight - clasp: “There is a big pile of fodder over there against the wall. Come, - sit down. There is no telling how long this may last, and you are already - fagged out.” - </p> - <p> - She offered no resistance, and he cautiously led her through the darkness - till he felt the fodder under his feet. Then he bent down and raked a - quantity of it together and again took her hand. - </p> - <p> - “Sit here,” he said, gently pushing her downward. “It is dry and warm.” - </p> - <p> - He was right. The soft bed of sweet-smelling corn leaves felt very - comfortable to the tired girl. He laughed out impulsively as he pulled a - quantity of the fodder near to her and sat down on it, locking his arms - over his knees. “This isn't so very bad, after all,” he said. “You know, - it might have been a great deal worse. Jack's well housed, and this old - mill has withstood a thousand storms.” - </p> - <p> - She said nothing, and he leaned nearer till his lips almost touched her - ear. - </p> - <p> - “Why are you so silent?” he asked. “Are you still afraid?” - </p> - <p> - “No, but I was wondering what my mother will think,” Cynthia said. “She'll - be sure we have been killed.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't worry about that,” Floyd said, cheerfully. “I gave Pole my last - match, or I'd take a smoke. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Cynthia, you don't know when you are in luck. I feel like Providence - is good to me. I've not really had you much to myself all the afternoon, - <i>anyway</i>, along with the tiresome preaching, singing, shouting, and - the fast riding in the dark, and now—” He reached out and took her - hand. She made an effort to withdraw it, but he laughed and held it - firmly. - </p> - <p> - “Don't be afraid of me, dear,” he said. And then, as in a flash, a picture - stood before him. He saw Pole Baker at his rough bench kneeling in the - straw. He had another vision. It was the gaunt farmer as he stalked - forward to shake hands with the preacher. Then Floyd, as it were, stood - facing the mountaineer, and, above the thunder of the raging tempest - without, Pole's grim warning broke upon the ears of his soul. Floyd sat - staring into the darkness. He saw a white dove fluttering in a grassy spot - before a coiled snake, with eyes like living diamonds. A shudder passed - over him, and raising Cynthia's hand to his lips he kissed it lightly, - respectfully, and released it. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps you'd rather have me stay near the door, little girl,” he said, - in a tone he had never used to her before. “You were thrown here with me - against your will, and I shall not force my attentions upon you. Don't be - afraid. I'm going to the door and sit down. I can see the road from there, - and as soon as the storm is over I'll come for you.” - </p> - <p> - She made no response, and, rising, he moved away, taking an armful of the - corn-blades with him. He found a place against the wall, near the door, - and throwing the fodder down he rested upon it, his long legs stretched - out upon the floor. - </p> - <p> - “Thank God!” he said. “Pole Baker has shot more manhood into my dirty - carcass to-day than it ever held before. I'll take care of your little - sister, Pole. She's a sweet, dear, noble, brave little woman. There is not - another such a one on earth. Good God! what must a sensitive, refined - creature like she is think of an affair like that Jeff Wade business?” He - shuddered. Pushing some of the fodder under his head, he reclined at full - length. Something Pole had said to him once while they were on the - river-bank fishing came to him. “I believe,” the mountaineer had said, - with his eyes on his line, “that the Almighty made women weak in their - very sweetness an' purity an' men strong in evil. An' He lets two of 'em - come together in this life, an' stand side by side, an' ef the man is good - enough, they will grow together an' work fer good an' perfect happiness. - But ef he's evil, he kin put out his slimy arms an' draw her into his own - cesspool like a water-moccasin coiled round a pond-lily. It is with the - man to make or damn his chances of contentment in life, an' when he's - soaked in evil he not only damns hisse'f but all he touches.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd closed his eyes. His admiration for Pole Baker had never been so - intense. For perhaps the first time in his life he felt the sting of the - hot blood of shame in his face. - </p> - <p> - “I'll take care of your little sister, Pole,” he said. “I'll do it—I'll - do it!” - </p> - <p> - He closed his eyes. The storm was beating more steadily now. His thoughts - became a delicious blur. - </p> - <p> - He was asleep. Several hours must have passed. He waked, sat up, and - looked about him; it was not so dark now, and while it was still raining, - the noise of the falling drops was not so loud. He stood up and stretched - himself. From the stiffness of his limbs he knew he had slept a long time. - </p> - <p> - “Cynthia!” he called out, but there was no reply. “Cynthia!” he called - again, but still only his own voice rang out above the falling rain and - whistling wind. He groped forward. In the darkness he saw her white dress - like a drift of snow against the pile of fodder. He bent over her and - touched her. She sat up with a start. - </p> - <p> - “You've been asleep, too,” he laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, have I?” she exclaimed. “I—I—forgot where I was, and I - was so tired. Is—is the rain over? Can we go on now?” - </p> - <p> - “Not yet, I'm afraid, Cynthia,” he said, consolingly. “If you don't object - to staying here alone, I'll go outside and look around. I want to see if - we can cross the mill creek. Sometimes it gets very high.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I'm not afraid,” she assured him. “There's nothing here to be afraid - of.” - </p> - <p> - “Some women would imagine the mill was full of tramps or escaped negro - convicts,” he laughed, “but you are different, little girl. You are - plucky. I'll be back in a few minutes.” - </p> - <p> - He returned very soon, stamping his wet boots on the mill steps. “The rain - is about over,” he told her. “The sky in the east is clearing up; in fact, - it is almost daybreak. Cynthia, we have both, slept longer than we had any - idea of. But the worst part of the business is that the creek is out of - its banks and we can't get across till it runs down; but that won't take - long. We can start for home about sunrise, and then we can go like the - wind. Jack will want his breakfast.” - </p> - <p> - She said nothing, but he fancied he heard her sigh. She started to rise - and he put out his hand. She gave him hers with a strange, new show of - confidence that touched him, thrilled him, and sent a flush of vague - gratification over him. - </p> - <p> - “You are disappointed,” he said, tentatively. With her hand still in his - they walked to the door and looked out towards the pale sky in the east. - </p> - <p> - “I was wondering what my mother will think,” she said. “She won't like - this at all. But you know, Nel—you know, Mr. Floyd, that I couldn't - help it.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course not,” he said, frowning darkly. “Stopping here really saved our - lives. She'll have to see that. You can make her see it, Cynthia.” - </p> - <p> - “She's very peculiar,” Cynthia sighed. “The smallest things almost drive - her insane. The rain is over; don't you think we could go some other way - and avoid the creek?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes, we could drive back to the Hillcrest road, but it would take - two hours longer.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we would have to wait here that long wouldn't we?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it's six of one and half a dozen of the other,” he smiled. “If you'd - rather be in the buggy and on the move, why, we can start.” - </p> - <p> - “I think I had,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “All right; you are the doctor,” he laughed. “I'll get Jack out and have - him hitched to the buggy in a minute.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XVII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE sun—and - it had never seemed to shine so brightly before—had been up about - half an hour when the couple drove up to Porter's gate. - </p> - <p> - “There's mother at the window now,” Cynthia said, as she got out of the - buggy. “I can see that she's angry even from here.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll hitch Jack and go in and explain,” offered Floyd. - </p> - <p> - “Oh no, don't!” Cynthia said, quickly. “I'll tell her all about it. Go on. - Good-bye.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye, then,” Floyd said, and he drove on to the village. - </p> - <p> - But Mrs. Porter did not come to the door to meet her as Cynthia expected. - The girl found her alone in the sitting-room seated sulkily at the - fireplace, where a few sticks of damp wood were burning gloomily. - </p> - <p> - “Well, where did you spend the night?” the old woman asked, icily. - </p> - <p> - Cynthia stood before her, withered to her soul by the tone in which her - mother's question had been asked. - </p> - <p> - “You are not going to like it a bit, mother,” the girl said, resignedly. - “The storm overtook us just as we got to Long's mill. The horse was - frightened and about to run away and the road was awfully dangerous. There - was nothing for us to do but to go in.” - </p> - <p> - “Long's mill! Oh, my God! there is no one living there, nor in miles of - it!” - </p> - <p> - “I know it, mother.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter buried her pale, wrinkled face in her hands and leaned forward - in her chair, her sharp elbows on her knees. - </p> - <p> - “I'm never going to get over this!” she groaned—“never—never; - and you are my <i>only</i> child!” - </p> - <p> - “Mother!” Cynthia bent down and almost with anger drew the old woman's - hand from her face. “Do you know what you are saying? Do you know that—that - you may drive me from home with that insinuation?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter groaned. She got up stiffly, and, like a mechanical thing - moved by springs, she caught her daughter's wrist and led her to a window, - sternly staring at her from her great, sunken eyes. “Do you mean to tell - me that you and <i>that</i> man sat together all the live-long night in - that mill?” - </p> - <p> - “Mother, I was completely tired out. There was some fodder on the floor. I - sat down on it, and after a long time I dropped asleep. He did too. He was - near the door, and I—” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter extended the stiff fingers of her hand and plucked a piece of - fodder from Cynthia's hair, and held it sneeringly up to the light. “It's - a pity you didn't have a comb and brush with you,” she said. “You'd have - been supplied at a hotel. Your hair is all in a mess. I'm going to keep - this little thing. Light as it is, it has knocked life and hope out of - me.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia looked at her steadily for a moment, and then turned from the - room. “I'm not going to defend myself against such suspicions as you - have,” she said from the door. “I know what I am, if you don't.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon this whole county will know what you are before many days,” - snarled Mrs. Porter. “Minnie Wade had somebody in her family with enough - manhood in 'im to want to defend her honor, but you haven't. Your - sleepy-headed old father—” The girl was gone. For several minutes - the old woman stood quivering in the warm sunlight at the window, and then - she stalked calmly through the dining-room and kitchen and out to the - barn. One of the stable-doors was open, and she could see her husband - inside. - </p> - <p> - “Nathan Porter!” she called out—“you come here. I've got something - to tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” he answered. “I'll be thar in a minute. Dern yore lazy soul, - hain't I give you enough corn to eat without you havin' to chaw up a - brand-new trough? I'm a good mind to take this curry-comb an' bust yore - old head with it!” - </p> - <p> - “Nathan Porter, I say, come out here! Let that horse alone!” - </p> - <p> - “All right, I'm a-comin'. Now, I reckon I'll have to fetch a hammer an' - saw an' nails an' buy planks to make another trough, jest fer you to chaw - up into powder.” - </p> - <p> - “Nathan Porter, do you hear me?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I reckon ef I don't, they do over at Baker's,” and the farmer, - bareheaded and without his coat, came from the stable. - </p> - <p> - “That blasted hoss has deliberately set to work an' chaw—” - </p> - <p> - “Nathan Porter”—the old woman thrust her slim fingers into his face—“do - you see that piece of fodder?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I see it. Is it a sample o' last year's crop? Are you buy in' or - sellin'? You mought 'a' fetched a bundle of it. A tiny scrap like—” - </p> - <p> - “I got that out o' Cynthia's hair.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't say! It must be a new sort o' ornament! I wouldn't be surprised - to see a woman with a bundle of it under each arm on the front bench at - meetin' after seein' them Wilson gals t'other night ready fer the dance - with flour in the'r hair an' the ace o' spades pasted on the'r cheeks.” - </p> - <p> - “Cynthia and Nelson Floyd stayed all night in Long's mill,” panted Mrs. - Porter. “There wasn't another soul there nor in miles of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh, you don't say!” the farmer sniffed. “I reckon ef they had 'a' sent - out a proclamation through the country that they was goin' to stay thar a - lot o' folks would 'a' waded through the storm to be present.” - </p> - <p> - “I got this out of her hair, I tell you!” the old woman went on, fiercely. - “Her head was all messed up, and so was her dress. If you've got any - manhood in you, you'll go to town and call Nelson Floyd out and settle - this thing.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh! Me go to his store on his busiest day an' ax 'im about a piece o' - fodder no bigger'n a gnat's wing? He'd tell me I was a dern fool, an' I'd - deserve it. Oh! see what you are a-drivin' at, an' I tell you it gits me - out o' patience. You women are so dad blasted suspicious an' guilty at the - bottom yorese'ves that you imagine bad acts is as plentiful as the leaves - on the ground in the fall. Now, let me tell you, you hain't obeying the - Scriptural injunction to judge not lest ye be judged accordin'ly. I want - you to let that little gal an' her sweetheart business alone. You hain't - a-runnin' it. You don't have to live with the feller she picks out, an' - you hain't no say whatever in the matter. Nur you h'aint got no say, - nuther, as to the way she does her particular courtin'. The Lord knows, - nobody was kind enough to put in away back thar when you was makin' sech a - dead set fer me. Folks talk a little about Floyd, but let me tell you my - <i>own</i> character them days wasn't as white as snow. I don't know many - men wuth the'r salt that hain't met temptation. I sorter cut a wide swath - 'fore I left the turf, an' you know it. Didn't I hear you say once that - you reckoned you never would 'a' tuck me ef I'd 'a' been after you day an' - night? You knowed thar was other fish in the sea, an' you didn't have any - bait to speak of, with them Turner gals an' the'r nigger slaves an' - plantations in the'r own right livin' next door to pa's. Yore old daddy - said out open that you an' yore sister needn't expect a dollar from him; - he'd educated you, an' that was all he could do. I hain't grumblin', mind - you. I never cry over spilt milk; it hain't sensible. It don't help a body - out of a bad matter into a better one.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I wish you'd hush and listen to me.” Mrs. Porter had not heard half - he had said. “I tell you Cynthia and that man stayed all night long in - that lonely mill together, an' she came home at sunrise this morning all - rumpled up and—” - </p> - <p> - “Now, you stop right thar! <i>You stop right thar!</i>” Porter said, with - as much sternness as he could command. “As to stayin' in that mill all by - the'rse'ves, I want you jest to put on yore thinkin'-cap, ef the old thing - hain't wore clean to tatters or laid away till it's moth-et. Do you - remember when that lonely old widder Pelham pegged out durin' our - courtin'-time? You do? <i>Well!</i> We went thar—you an' me did—expectin' - to meet the Trabue crowd, an' that passle o' young folks from Hanson's, to - set up with the corpse. Well, when me'n' you got thar about eight o'clock - the Trabue crowd sent word that as long as the Hanson lay-out was comin', - they believed they wouldn't drive so fur; an' right on top o' that come a - message from the Hanson folks, sayin' that you an' me an' the Trabues was - as many as the little house would hold, so they would stay away; an' thar - you an' me was with nobody to make us behave but a dead woman, an' <i>her</i> - screwed down tight in a box. I remember as clear as day that you laughed - an' said you didn't care, an' you set in to makin' coffee an' cookin' eggs - an' one thing another to keep us awake an' make me think you was handy - about a house. Well, now, here's the moral to that tale. The neighbors—tough - as my record was—was kind enough not to say nasty things about us - afterwards, an' it hain't Christian or motherly of you to start a tale - about our gal when as big a storm as that driv' her an' her beau in out o' - danger. Besides, I tell you, you are standin' in Cynthia's light. She's - got as good a right to the best in the land as anybody, an' I believe - Nelson Floyd is goin' to git married sooner or later. He's had a chance to - look over the field, an' I hope she'll suit 'im. I never made money by - marryin', myself, an' I sorter like the idea o' my child gittin' a - comfortable berth. That gal hain't no common person nohow. She'll show off - a fine house as well as any woman in this state. She's got sense, an' a - plenty of it; folks say she's like me.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't know what you are talking about.” Mrs. Porter was looking at - the ground. Her hard face had softened; she was drawn perforce to words at - her husband's view of the matter. His rebuke rang harshly in her ears. She - turned towards the house and took several steps, then she looked back. “I - pray God you are right, Nathan,” she said. “Maybe all the worry I had - through the night has made me unable to see the matter fairly.” - </p> - <p> - “That's it!” said Porter, as he leaned on the fence; “and let me tell you, - if you don't quit makin' so many mountains out o' mole-hills, an' worryin' - at sech a rate, you'll go like yore sister Martha did. Try worryin' about - <i>yorese'f</i> awhile; ef I thought as mean about my own child as you do - I'd bother about the condition o' my soul.” - </p> - <p> - With her head hanging low, Mrs. Porter walked slowly to the house. Her - view was more charitable and clearer, though she was so constituted that - she could not at once obey her inclination to apologize to her daughter. - </p> - <p> - “I'm actually afraid I'm losing my mind,” she said. “I am acting exactly - as Sister Martha did.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XVIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was a warm - morning on the first day of June. Pole Baker lay on the thick grass, near - the door of the court-house, talking to Jim Carden, a little shoemaker - from Darley. - </p> - <p> - “Didn't Nelson Floyd go in the court-house jest now?” Pole asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the shoemaker, in his high voice; “him an' Colonel Price was - settin' here fer half an' hour 'fore you come, talkin' about a trade. - Price is tryin' to sell 'im his plantation, an' that big house completely - furnished. I'd rather see Floyd's eyes when he's on a trade than anything - I ever looked at. They shine like twin stars. But I don't believe they'll - trade. They are too far apart.” - </p> - <p> - “This section is chock full o' keen men, from the highest to the lowest,” - remarked Pole. “Old settlers say that a long time ago seven Jews settled - here, intendin' to git rich, an' that these mountain men got all they had, - an' the Jews literally starved to death. Thar hain't been one in the - county since.” - </p> - <p> - “Our folks certainly are hard to down,” said Carden. “Do you know that - long, slim chap in front o' Floyd's store? That's one o' the Bowen boys, - from Gilmer—I mean the feller at the covered wagon.” - </p> - <p> - “Know 'im? I reckon I do,” Pole laughed, “That's Alf Bowen. I had a round - with 'im one day. It was in the fall o' the year, an' they was so busy at - Mayhew & Floyd's that they pulled me into service. I'm a purty good - salesman when I'm about half loaded. Well, Alf come in leadin' his little - gal by the hand, an' said he wanted to fit 'er out in a cloak. Joe Peters - hung to 'im fer half an' hour, but everything he'd show the feller was too - high, or not good enough, an Joe switched 'im off on me. Joe was afeard ef - the skunk went out that some more that was with 'im would follow, an' <i>they</i> - was buyin' a little, now an' then. Well, do you know, Jim, I made up my - mind I'd sell that feller a cloak ef I had to do it below cost an' make up - the difference myself. Old Uncle Abner Daniel was thar settin' on a - nail-keg, a-spittin' an' a-chawin' an' pokin' fun at me. As I was passin' - 'im he cocked his eye up an' said, said he: 'Pole, I'll bet you a segar - you cayn't sell 'im.' 'Done,' said I. 'I'll go you,' an' I set to work in - earnest. Alf had sorter intimated that six dollars was his cloak-limit, - an' I drawed Joe Peters round behind a stack o' boxes, an' axed 'im ef we - had anything as low as that. Joe said no, we didn't, but, said he, - 'sometimes when we git short, we run into Glenn's store next door an' take - out an' article on trial, an' ef we sell it, we git it at cost.' Well, I - happened to know that Glenn had some cloaks in, so I went back to my - customer an' told 'im that we had jest got in a box o' cloaks the day - before, but they was in the cellar unopened, an' ef he'd wait a minute, - I'd bust the box an' see ef thar was any low-priced cloaks in the lot. - Bowen's eyes sorter danced, an' he said he had plenty o' time. So I picked - up a hammer an' run down in the cellar. I knocked at an empty box, an' - kicked over a barrel or two, an' then scooted out at the back door an' - round into Glenn's shebang. 'Sam,' said I, 'have you got a cloak that you - kin let us have so we kin sell it at six dollars an' make any profit?' He - studied a minute, an' then he said he 'lowed he had jest the thing, an' he - went an' got one an' fetched it to me. 'This un,' said he, 'is all right - except this little ripped place here under the arm, but any woman kin fix - that in a minute. I kin let you have it, Pole, fer five-fifty.' Well, sir, - I grabbed it an' darted back into our cellar, knocked once or twice more - with the hammer, an' run up to Alf an' the gal. 'Here's one,' said I. - 'It's an eight-dollar garment, but in drawin' it out o' the box jest now I - ripped it a little, but any woman kin fix that in a minute. Now, bein' as - it's <i>you</i>, Alf,' said I, 'an' we want yore trade, I'll make it to - you at first cost without the freight from Baltimore. I kin give you this - thing, Alf,' said I, fer six dollars.' - </p> - <p> - “Well, sir, I thought I had 'im, an' was winkin' at Uncle Ab, when Bowen - sorter sniffed an' stuck his long finger through the hole. 'Shucks!' said - he. 'Sam Glenn offered me that cloak fer four dollars an' a half two weeks - ago. I could 'a' got it fer four, but I wouldn't have it. It's moth-et.'” - </p> - <p> - Carden threw himself back on the grass and laughed. “What the devil did - you do?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Do?—nothin'. What could I do? I jest grinned an' acknowledged the - corn. The joke was agin me. An' the funny part of it was the feller was so - dead in earnest he didn't see anything to laugh at. Ef I'd a-been in his - place I'd 'a' hollered.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you give Uncle Ab his cigar?” the shoemaker asked. - </p> - <p> - “I offered it to 'im, Jim, but he wouldn't take it. I axed 'im why. - 'Beca'se,' said he, 'I was bettin' on a certainty.' 'How's that?' said I. - 'Why,' said he, 'I seed Alf Bowen buy a cloak fer that gal at the fire - sale over at Darley two weeks ago. He was just lookin' around to see ef - he'd got bit.'” - </p> - <p> - Pole saw Floyd coming out of the court-house and went to him. “I - understand you an' Price are on a deal,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but we are far apart,” Floyd answered, pleasantly. “He offers me his - entire two thousand acres and furnished house for twenty-five thousand. As - I told him, Pole, I could draw the money out of other investments an' take - the property, but I couldn't see profit in it above twenty thousand.” - </p> - <p> - “It's wuth all he asks fer it,” Pole said, wisely. - </p> - <p> - “I know it is, to any man who wants to live on it, but if I buy it, I'd - have to hire a good man to manage it, and, altogether, I can't see my way - to put more than twenty thousand in it. He's anxious to sell. He and his - wife want to move to Atlanta, to be with their married daughter.” - </p> - <p> - They were walking towards Floyd's store, and Pole paused in the street. - “Are you busy right now, Nelson?” he asked, his face wearing a serious - look. - </p> - <p> - “Not at all, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I've got some'n' to say to you, Nelson. I'm goin' to acknowledge - that thar's one thing I've wanted to do fer you more, by hunkey, than - anything in the world. Nelson, I've always hoped that I'd run across some - clew that 'ud eventually lead to you findin' out who yore kin are.” - </p> - <p> - “That's good of you, Pole,” responded Floyd, in a sincere tone. “It is a - thing I am more interested in than anything else in the world.” The young - merchant laughed mechanically. “Pole, if the lowest-looking tramp you ever - saw in your life were to come here, and I found out he was even a distant - cousin of mine, I'd look on him with reverence. I'd fit him out in new - clothes and give him money, and never want to lose sight of him. Why I - feel that way I don't know, but it is planted deep down inside.” - </p> - <p> - “I knew you felt that away,” said Pole, “and, as I say, I want to help. - Now, Nelson, all my life folks has said I was keen about tracin' things - out. In my moonshinin' day, an' since then, in helpin' old Ab Daniel an' - Alan Bishop in that timber deal, an' in one way an' another, I've always - been good at readin' men an' the'r faces an' voices. Now, I reckon what - Captain Duncan said that day about his talk with that feller Floyd—Henry - A. Floyd—in Atlanta went in at one o' yore ears an' out at t'other, - but it didn't with me. I've studied about that thing night an' day ever - since, an' yesterday I had a talk with Duncan. I made 'im go over what him - an' Floyd said, word fer word, an' I'm here to tell you that I want yore - consent to see that old man myself. I've got to go down to the United - States court to-morrow to see Judge Spence, about leniency in old Paxton's - moonshine case, an' I'll have time on my hands. I wish you'd consent to - let me talk, in a roundabout way, of course, to that man Floyd. Captain - Duncan made a big mistake in sayin' so much about yore bad luck in yore - childhood an' nothin' about what you've since made of yourself. A man as - pore as Floyd is, an' as proud, wouldn't care to rake up kin with a man - like Duncan showed you to be. The captain had an idea that ef he got the - old chap's pity up he'd find out what he wanted to know, but a man of that - stripe don't pity no unfortunate man nor want to claim kin with 'im. From - the way Duncan talked to me, I have an idea that old man was keepin' back - some'n'.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd was looking at his rough friend with eyes full of emotion. “I'd - rather have you do a thing of that kind, Pole, than any man alive,” he - said. “And I can trust your judgment and tact, too. I confess I am not - hopeful in that particular direction, but if you want to see the man, why, - do it. I certainly appreciate your interest, and next time I hope you will - not wait to ask my consent. I trust the whole matter to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” the mountaineer smiled, “I may be away off in my calculations, and - make nothin' by it, but I want to try my hand. Thar comes Colonel Price. - I'll bet a new hat he'll come to yore offer before long. You jest keep a - stiff upper lip, an' don't bring up the subject of yore own accord; he'll - do the talkin'.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XIX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN he had - finished his interview with Judge Spence in Atlanta the next day, Pole - went to a drug-store and looked up the address of Henry A. Floyd in the - city directory. The old bachelor lived on Peachtree Street, about half a - mile from the Union Depot, in a rather antiquated story-and-a-half frame - house, which must have been built before the Civil War. The once white - paint on its outside had turned to a weather-beaten gray, and the - old-fashioned blinds, originally bright green in color, had faded, and - hung loosely on rusty hinges. There was a little lawn in front which - stretched from the gateless iron fence to the low-floored veranda, but it - held scarcely a tuft of grass, the ground being bare in some places and in - others weed-grown. Pole went to the door and rang. He was kept waiting for - several minutes before a middle-aged woman, evidently a servant of all - work or house-keeper, appeared. - </p> - <p> - “Is Mr. Floyd about?” Pole asked, politely, doffing his slouch hat. - </p> - <p> - “He's back in the garden behind the house,” the woman said. “If you'll - wait here I'll go call him.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, ma'am,” Pole said. “I'll wait; I've got plenty o' time.” She - went away, and he sat down on a rickety bench on the veranda, his hat - still in his hands, his eyes on the passing carriages and street-cars. - </p> - <p> - Presently the owner of the house appeared round the corner. He was tall, - clerical looking, ashy as to complexion, slightly bald, had sunken cheeks - over which grew thin, iron-gray side-whiskers, and a despondent stoop. - </p> - <p> - “I'll have to git at that old skunk through his pocket,” Pole reflected, - as his keen eyes took in every detail of the man's make-up. “He looks like - he's bothered about some'n', an' a man like that's hard to git pinned - down; an' ef I don't git 'im interested, he'll kick me out o' this yard. - I'll be derned ef he don't favor Nelson a little about the head an' eyes.” - </p> - <p> - “How are you, Mr. Floyd?” Pole stood up and extended his hand. “Baker's my - name, sir; from up the country. I was on yore farm in Bartow not long ago, - an' I sorter liked the lay o' the land. Bein' as I was down here on - business, anyhow, I 'lowed I'd drap in an' ax ef you had any part o' that - place you'd care to rent. I've jest got two hosses, but I want to put in - about thirty acres.” - </p> - <p> - A slight touch of life seemed to struggle into the wan face of the old man - for a moment. - </p> - <p> - “I've got just about that many acres unrented,” he said. “The rest is all - let out. You'd have good neighbors, Mr.—” - </p> - <p> - “Baker, sir—Pole Baker,” the caller put in. - </p> - <p> - “And good fertile land, too, Mr. Baker. May I ask if you intend to rent on - the part-crop plan or for cash?” - </p> - <p> - Pole's eyes twinkled as they rested on a pair of fine horses and - glittering carriage that were passing. “Ef I rent <i>yore'n</i>, Mr. - Floyd, I'll pay cash.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, that certainly is the wisest plan, Mr. Baker.” There was a still - greater show of life in the old man's face; in fact, he almost smiled. - “Come inside a minute. I've got a map of my property, showing just how - each section lies and how it's drained and watered.” He opened the door - and led Pole into a wide hall, and thence, to the right, into a big, - bare-looking parlor. “Have a seat, Mr. Baker; my desk is in the little - room adjoining.” Pole sat down, crossed his long legs, and put his hat on - his knee. When he found himself alone he smiled. “Captain Duncan thought a - crabbed old cuss like that 'ud be interested in pore kin,” he mused. “Huh! - nothin' short o' Vanderbilts an' Jay Goulds 'ud start his family pulse to - beatin'. Le' me see, now, how I'd better begin to—” - </p> - <p> - “Here it is, Mr. Baker.” Floyd entered with a map and pencil in his hand. - “If you looked the place over when you were there, you may remember that - the creek winds round from the bridge to the foot of the hill. Well, right - in there—” - </p> - <p> - “I know, and that's dandy land, Mr. Floyd,” Pole broke in. “That's as good - as you got, I reckon.” - </p> - <p> - “The very best, Mr. Baker—in fact, it's the part I always rent for - cash. I have to have ready money for taxes and interest and the like, you - know, and when I strike a man who is able to pay in advance, why, I can - make him a reasonable figure, and he gets the best.” - </p> - <p> - “It's got a good house on it, too, I believe?” Pole was stroking his chin - with a thoughtful air. - </p> - <p> - “Six rooms, and a well and stable and good cow-house, Mr. Baker.” Old - Floyd was actually beaming. - </p> - <p> - “Does the roof leak?” Pole looked at him frankly. “I won't take my wife - and children into a leaky house, Mr. Floyd. If I pay out my money, I want - ordinary comfort.” - </p> - <p> - “Doesn't leak a drop, Mr. Baker.” - </p> - <p> - Pole stroked his chin for another minute. He was looking down at the worn - carpet, but he felt Floyd's eyes fastened eagerly on him. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what's yore figure, Mr. Floyd?” - </p> - <p> - “Two hundred dollars a year—half when you move in, and the rest a - month later.” The old man seemed to hold his breath. The paper which he - was folding quivered. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I wouldn't kick about the price,” Pole said. “The only thing that—” - Pole seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he went on. “I never like to - act in a hurry in important business matters, an' I generally want to be - sorter acquainted with a man I deal with. You see, ef I moved on that - place it 'ud be to stay a long time, an' thar'd be things on <i>yore</i> - side to do year after year. I generally ax fer references, but I'm a-goin' - to be straight with you, Mr. Floyd; somehow, I feel all right about you. I - like yore face. The truth is, you have a strong favor to a feller up our - way. He's the richest young man we got, an' the finest ever God's sun - shone on. An' as soon as I heard yore name was Floyd—the same as his - is—somehow I felt like you an' him was kin, an' that I wouldn't lose - by dealin' with you. Blood will tell, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, who do you mean?” The old man stared in pleased surprise. “All the - Floyds I know were broken up by the war. I must say none of them are - really rich.” - </p> - <p> - “This Floyd is, you kin bet yore boots on that,” Pole said, - enthusiastically. “He owns mighty nigh the whole o' our county; he's the - biggest moneylender and investor in stocks and bonds I know of. He's fine - all round: he'd fight a buzz-saw barehanded; he's got more friends than - you kin shake a stick at; he could walk into Congress any election ef he'd - jest pass the word out that he wanted the job.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, this is certainly news to me,” the old man said. “And you say he - resembles me?” - </p> - <p> - “Got yore eyes to a T, an' long, slim hands like yore'n, an' the same - shape o' the head an' neck! Why, shorely you've heard o' Nelson Floyd, - junior member o' Mayhew & Floyd, of Springtown, the biggest dealers o' - farm supplies in—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Nelson Floyd! Why—why, surely there must be some mistake. He - hasn't made money, has he? Why, the only time I ever heard of him he was - in destitute circumstances, and—” - </p> - <p> - “Destitute hell!—I beg yore pardon, Mr. Floyd, that slipped out. But - that feller's not only not destitute, but he's the <i>friend</i> o' the - destitute. What he does fer the pore an' sufferin' every year 'ud start - many a man in life.” - </p> - <p> - A flush had crept into Floyd's face, and he leaned forward in warm - eagerness. “The truth is, Mr. Baker, that Nelson Floyd is the only child - of all the brother I ever had.” - </p> - <p> - “You <i>don't say!</i>” exclaimed Pole, holding the old man's eyes firmly, - “which brother was that?” - </p> - <p> - “Charles Nelson—two years younger than I am. The truth is, he and I - became estranged. He broke my mother's heart, Mr. Baker. He was very wild - and dissipated, though he died bravely in battle. I would have looked - after his son, but I lost sight of him and his mother after the war, and, - then, I had my own troubles. There are circumstances, too, which I don't - care to go over with a—a stranger. But I'm glad the young man has - done well. The first I heard of him was about ten years ago. He was then - said to be a sort of wild mountain outlaw. It was not natural for me to - feel pride in him, or—” - </p> - <p> - “He <i>was</i> wild about that time,” Pole said, as he stood up to go, - “but he settled down and made a man of hisse'f. I'll let you know about - that land, Mr. Floyd. Ef you don't hear from me by—this is Tuesday, - ain't it?—ef you don't hear from me by Saturday, you may know that - my wife has decided to stay on up the country.” - </p> - <p> - “But”—Floyd's face had fallen—“I hope nothing won't interfere - with our deal, Baker. I'd like to have you on my place. I really would.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, we'll live in hopes,” said the mountaineer, “ef we die in - despair,” and Pole went out into the sunlight. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Poley,” he chuckled, “who said you couldn't git all you was after? - But <i>lie!</i> My Lord, I don't know when I'll ever git all that out o' - my body. I feel like I am literally soaked in black falsehood, like a hide - in a vat at a tanyard. It's leakin' out o' the pores o' my skin an' - runnin' down into my socks. But that dried-up old skunk made me do it. Ef - he hadn't a-been so 'feared o' pore kin, I wouldn't 'a' had to sink so - low. Well, I've got news fer Nelson, an' that's what I was after.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was ten o'clock - that night when the stage, or “hack,” as it was called, put Pole down in - the square at Springtown. He went directly to Floyd's store, hoping to see - the young man before he went to bed, but the long building was wrapped in - darkness. Pole went over to the little hotel where Floyd roomed. The - proprietor, Jerry Malone, and two tobacco drummers sat smoking on the - veranda. - </p> - <p> - “He's jest this minute gone up to his room,” the landlord said, in - response to Baker's inquiry as to the whereabouts of his friend. “It's the - fust door to the right, at the top o' the steps.” - </p> - <p> - Pole went up and knocked on Floyd's door, and the young merchant called - out, “Come in.” - </p> - <p> - Baker opened the door, finding the room in darkness. From the bed in the - corner Floyd's voice came: “Is that you, Pole?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I jest got back, Nelson. I went to the store expectin' to find you - at work, an' then Jerry told me you was up here.” - </p> - <p> - “Light the lamp, Pole,” Floyd said. “There are some matches on that table - right under your hand.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I hain't got long to stay,” returned the mountaineer, “an' I don't - need a light to talk by, any more'n a blind man does to write his letters. - I 'lowed I'd tell you what I done down thar. I seed Floyd.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you did! After you left I got really interested in your venture, and - I was afraid you might accidentally miss him.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I seed 'im.” Pole found a chair and sat down at the little table, - resting his hand on it, and tilting the chair back, after his favorite - method of making himself comfortable. There was a lamp on a post in front - of the hotel and its light came through a window and faintly illuminated - the room. Pole could see the white covering of Floyd's bed and the outline - of the young man's head and shoulders against a big feather pillow. - </p> - <p> - “You say you saw him?” Floyd's voice was eager and restrained. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, an' I got news fer you, Nelson—substantial news. Henry A. - Floyd is yore own uncle.” - </p> - <p> - “Good God, Pole!”—Floyd sat up in bed—“don't make any - mistakes. You say he is actually—” - </p> - <p> - “I ain't makin' no mistakes,” replied Pole. “He's the only brother of yore - daddy, Charles Nelson Floyd. That old cuss told me so, an' I know he was - tellin' me a straight tale.” - </p> - <p> - There was silence. Floyd pulled his feet from beneath the coverings and - sat up on the bedside. He seemed unable to speak, and, leaning forward in - his chair, the ex-moonshiner recounted in careful detail all that had - passed between him and the man he had visited. For several minutes after - Pole had concluded the merchant sat without visible movement, then Pole - heard him take a long, deep breath. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I hope you are satisfied with what I done,” said Pole, tentatively. - </p> - <p> - “Satisfied! Great Heavens!” cried Floyd,' “I simply don't know what to say - to it—how to tell you what I feel. Pole, I'll bet I'm having the - oddest experience that ever came to mortal man. I don't know how to - explain it, or make you understand. When a baby's born it's too young to - wonder or reflect over its advent into the world, but to-night, after all - my years of life, I feel—Pole, I feel somehow as if I were suddenly - born again. That dark spot on my history has been in my mind almost night - and day ever since I was old enough to compare myself to others. Persons - who have strong physical defects are often morbidly sensitive over them. - That flaw in my life was my eternally sore point. And my mother”—Floyd's - voice sank reverently—“did he say who she was?” - </p> - <p> - “No, we didn't git fur enough,” Pole returned. “You see, Nelson, I got - that information by pretendin' to be sorter indifferent about you, an' ef - I'd 'a' axed too many questions, the old codger 'ud 'a' suspicioned my - game. Besides, as I told you, he wasn't willin' to talk perfectly free. - Although yore daddy's in the grave, the old man seems to still bear a sort - o' grudge agin 'im, an' that, in my opinion, accounts fer him not helpin' - you out when you was a child.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I see,” said Floyd; “my father was wild as a young man?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's the way he put it,” answered Baker; “but I wouldn't let that - bother me, Nelson. Ef yore daddy'd 'a' lived longer, no doubt, he'd 'a' - settled down like you have. But he passed away in a good cause. It ort to - be a comfort to know he died in battle.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's a comfort,” said Floyd, thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “An' now you've got plenty o' kin,” Pole said, with a pleasant laugh. “I - come over in the hack with Colonel Price and Captain Duncan, an' you ort - to 'a' heard 'em both spout about the Floyds an' the Nelsons. They say - yore blood's as blue as indigo, my boy, an' that they suspected it all - along, on account o' yore pluck and determination to win in ever' game you - tackled. Lord, you bet they'll be round to-morrow to give you the hand o' - good-fellowship an' welcome you into high life. I reckon you'll sorter cut - yore mountain scrub friends.” - </p> - <p> - “I haven't any scrub friends,” said Floyd, with feeling. “I don't know - that you boast of your ancestry, Pole, but you are as high above the kind - of man that does as the stars are above the earth.” - </p> - <p> - “Now you are a-kiddin' me!” said Baker. He put out his hand on the table - and felt something smooth and cool under his touch. He drew it to him. It - was a pint flask filled with whiskey. He held it up with a laugh. “Good - Lord, what are you doin' with this bug-juice?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you mean that bottle of rye,” said Floyd. “I've kept that for a - memento of the day I swore off, Pole, five years ago. I thought as long as - I could pass it day after day and never want to uncork it, that it was a - sign I was safely anchored to sobriety.” - </p> - <p> - There was a little squeak like that of a frightened mouse. Pole had - twisted the cork out and was holding the neck of the bottle to his nose. - </p> - <p> - “Gee whiz!” he exclaimed. “That stuff smells <i>fine!</i> You say it's - five years old, Nelson?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it's almost old enough to vote,” Floyd laughed. “It was very old and - mellow when I got it.” - </p> - <p> - The cork squeaked again Pole had stopped the bottle. It lay flat under his - big, pulsating hand. His fingers played over it caressingly. “I wouldn't - advise you to keep it under yore eye all the time, Nelson,” he said. “I - tried that dodge once an' it got the best o' my determination.” - </p> - <p> - “I sometimes feel the old desire come over me,” said Floyd; “often when my - mind is at rest after work, and even while I am at it, but it is never - here in my room in the presence of that memento. It seems to make a man of - me. I pity a drinking man, Pole. I know what he has to fight, and I feel - now that if I were to lose all hope in life that I'd take to liquor as - naturally as a starving man would to food.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon,” said Pole, in a strange, stilled voice. His fingers were now - tightly clasped about the bottle. There was a pause, then he slid it - cautiously—very cautiously—towards him. He swallowed something - that was in his throat; his eyes were fixed in a great, helpless stare on - the dim figure across the room. Noiselessly the bottle was raised, and - noiselessly it went down into the pocket of his coat. - </p> - <p> - “I feel like I owe you my life, Pole,” Floyd continued, earnestly. “You've - done to-day what no one else could have done. If that old man had died - without speaking of this matter I'd perhaps never have known the truth. - Pole, you can call on me for anything you want that is in my power to - give. Do you understand me, Pole, old friend?—anything—anything!” - </p> - <p> - There was silence. Pole sat staring vacantly in front of him. Floyd rose - in slow surprise and came across the room. Pole stood up suddenly, his - hand on the weighty pocket. Quickly he shifted to a darker portion of the - room nearer the door. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter, Pole?” Floyd asked, in surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Matter? Why, nothin', Nelson.” Baker laughed mechanically. “I was jest - thinkin' that I ought to be in bed. I've told you all I kin, I guess.” - </p> - <p> - “You were so quiet just now that I thought—really, I didn't know - what to think. I was telling you—” - </p> - <p> - “I know, Nelson.” Baker's unsteady hand was on the latch of the door. - “Never you mind, I'll call on you if I want anything. I've got yore - friendship, I reckon, an' that's enough fer me.” - </p> - <p> - He opened the door and glided out into the hall. “Good-night, Nelson.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-night, Pole, good-night. God bless you, old man!” - </p> - <p> - On the lonely road leading to his house the mountaineer stopped and drew - the bottle from his pocket. “You dem little devil!” he said, playfully, - holding it up before his eyes in the starlight. “Here I've gone all day in - Atlanta, passin' ten 'thousand barroom doors, swearin' by all that was - holy that I'd fetch Nelson Floyd his news with a sober head on my - shoulders an' a steady tongue <i>in</i> that head; an' I rid, too, by - hunkey, all the way from Darley out here with a hack-driver smellin' like - a bung-hole, with two quarts under his seat an' no tellin' how many under - his hide. I say I got through all that, although my jaws was achin' tell - they felt like they was loose at the sockets, an' I 'lowed I'd slide safe - to the home-base, when <i>you</i>—you crawled up under my nose in - the dark like a yaller lizard, with that dern tale about yore ripe old age - an' kingly flavor. '<i>Memento</i>' hell!” Pole was using Floyd's word for - the first time. “I'd like to know what sort of a memento you'd make - outside of a man's stomach. No, Poley, I reckon you've reached yore - limit.” - </p> - <p> - The mouse squeaked again. Pole chuckled. He held the flask aloft and shook - it. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen,” he said to the countless stars winking merrily down from - above, “take one with me,” and he drank. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>WO days after - this, Nathan Porter brought home the news of what had happened to Floyd. - The family were seated at the dinner-table when he came in warm from his - walk along the dusty road. He started to sit down in his place without his - coat, but Cynthia rose and insisted on his donning it. - </p> - <p> - “Folks is sech eternal fools!” he said, as he helped his plate to a green - hillock of string-beans, from the sides of which protruded bowlders of - gray bacon, and down which ran rivulets of grease. - </p> - <p> - “What have they been doing now?” asked his wife, curiously. - </p> - <p> - “They hain't doin' nothin' in town but talkin',” Porter said, in a tone of - disgust. “Looks like all business has come to a dead halt, so that - everybody kin exchange views about what Nelson Floyd has discovered about - his kin. He's found a man—or Pole Baker did fer 'im, when Pole was - drunk down in Atlanta—who don't deny he's his uncle—his - daddy's own brother—an' you'd think Floyd had unearthed a gold-mine, - from all the talk an' well-wishin' among the elect. Old Duncan an' Colonel - Price helt a whole crowd spellbound at the post-office this mornin' with - the'r tales about the past power an' grandeur of the Nelson an' Floyd - families in America, an' all they'd done fer the'r country an' the like.” - </p> - <p> - “Father, is this true?” Cynthia asked, her face almost pale in suppressed - excitement. - </p> - <p> - “I reckon thar's no doubt about it,” answered Porter. “Pole Baker's - roarin' drunk, an' that always indicates that some'n' good or bad's - happened to him or his friends. Thar hain't no money in Floyd's find. The - Atlanta man's on the ragged edge; in fact, some say he never would 'a' - confessed to the crime ef he hadn't heard that Nelson was well-to-do. I - dunno. I hardly ever laugh, but I mighty nigh split my sides while Jim - Carden was pokin' fun at 'em all. Jim says all the bon-tons in this - section has been treatin' Floyd like a runt pig till now. The Duncans had - a big blow-out at the'r house last night. Miss Evelyn's got some Atlanta - gals an' boys thar at a house-party, an' the shindig was a big event. Jim - said he was standin' nigh Floyd yesterday when he got his invite, an' that - Nelson was about to refuse p'int-blank to go, beca'se he'd never been axed - thar before he got his blood certificate; but Jim said Pole Baker was - standin' thar about half-shot, swayin' back an' forth agin the desk, an' - Pole up an' told Floyd that he'd have to accept—that he was as good - as any in the land, an' to refuse a thing o' that sort would belittle 'im; - an' so Nelson put on a b'iled shirt an' a dicky cravat an' went. Jim said - his wife run over with a passle o' other women to help about the - dinin'-room an' kitchen, an' that Floyd was the high-cockalorum of the - whole bunch. He said all the women was at his heels, an' that nothin' was - talked except the high an' mighty grandeur that's come an' gone among the - Nelsons an' Floyds. Jim said Floyd looked like he wanted to crawl through - a knot-hole in the floor. I'll say this fer that feller—blood or no - blood, he hain't no dem fool, an' you mark my words, this thing hain't - a-goin' to spile 'im nuther. You let a man make hisse'f in life, an' he - hain't a-goin' daft about the flabby, ready-made sort.” - </p> - <p> - “You wait and see,” Mrs. Porter said, a sneer on her lips, as she - critically eyed Cynthia's face. “A man that's as bad as he is, to begin - with, will be worse when he is run after like that.” - </p> - <p> - “I dunno,” said Porter, his mouth full of beans. “I seed 'im give old - Johnson Blare a cut this mornin' that tickled me powerful. The old skunk - got out o' his rickety buggy in front o' the store an' went in to - congratulate Floyd. I knowed what he was up to, an' follered 'im back to - the desk. He told Floyd that he was a sort o' far-off cousin o' the - Nelsons, an' that he was prouder of that fact than anything else in the - world. I seed Floyd was mad as he looked at the old fellow with his high - collar an' frazzley necktie. 'I'm gittin' tired o' the whole business,' - Floyd said to 'im. 'I want to be appreciated, if I deserve it, for my <i>own</i> - sake, an' not on account o' my dead kinsfolk.' An' that certainly did - squelch old Blare. He shook all over when he went out.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose Nelson Floyd will end up by marrying Evelyn Duncan or some of - the Prices,” Mrs. Porter said, significantly, as she fastened her lynx eye - on Cynthia's shrinking face. - </p> - <p> - “That seems to be the talk, anyway,” Porter admitted. “She belongs to the - doll-faced, bandbox variety. She'd be a nice little trick to dandle on a - fellow's knee, but that's about all she'd be good for.” After the meal was - over, Mrs. Porter followed Cynthia out into the kitchen, whither the girl - was taking a big pan full of soiled dishes. - </p> - <p> - “This ought to make you very careful, Cynthia,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know what you mean, mother.” The girl looked up coldly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, <i>I</i> know what I mean,” said Mrs. Porter. “People seem to think - this will bring about a sort of change in Nelson Floyd's way of living. We - are really as good as anybody in this county, but we are poor, and others - are rich, and have more social advantages. Evelyn Duncan always has - snubbed you girls around here, and no young man has been going in both - sets. So far nobody that I know of has talked unkindly about you and - Nelson Floyd, but they would be more apt to now than ever. How that thing - about the mill ever escaped—” - </p> - <p> - “Mother, don't bring that up again!” Cynthia said, almost fiercely. “I - have heard enough of it. I can't stand any more.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you know what I mean, and you have my warning,” said Mrs. Porter, - sternly, “and that's all I can do. As good and respectable a young man as - ever lived wants to marry you, and the worst rake in the county has been - paying you questionable attentions. The first thing you know, Mr. - Hillhouse will get disgusted, and—” - </p> - <p> - But Cynthia had left her work and gone out into the yard. With a face - quite pale and set, she went through the orchard, climbed over the - brier-grown rail-fence, and crossed the field and pasture to Pole Baker's - house. Mrs. Baker, pale and bedraggled, with a ten-months-old baby on her - arm, stood on the little porch of the cottage. At her feet the other - children were playing. - </p> - <p> - “You've heard o' my trouble, I kin see that,” the married woman said, as - the girl opened the gate. “Come in out o' the sun.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I've heard,” said Cynthia, “and I came as soon as I could.” - </p> - <p> - They went into the poorly furnished bedroom, with its bare floor - belittered with the playthings of the children, and sat down in the - straight-backed, rockerless chairs. - </p> - <p> - “You mustn't notice the way things look,” sighed Mrs. Baker. “The truth - is, Cynthia, I haven't had the heart to lay my hand to a thing. Pole's - been away three nights and three days now, and I don't know what has - happened to him. He's quick tempered and gets into quarrels when he's - drinkin'. He may be in jail in Darley, or away off some'rs on the - railroad.” - </p> - <p> - “I know, I know,” said Cynthia. “Let me hold the baby; you look as if you - are about to drop.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't sleep an hour last night,” said Mrs. Baker, as she relinquished - the child. “I don't want to complain. He's so good-hearted, Cynthia, and - he can't help it to save his life. He's the kindest, sweetest man in the - world when he's all right; but these sprees mighty nigh kill me. Take my - advice an' don't marry a drinkin' man fer all you do. No—no, not - even if you love 'im! It's easier to tear one out o' your heart before you - have children by 'im, an' God knows a pore woman ought to have <i>some</i> - happiness and peace of mind. If Pole don't come home to-day I'm afraid - I'll go crazy. Pore little Billy kept wakin' up last night and askin' - about his papa. He can't understand. He fairly worships his father.” - </p> - <p> - “We must hope for the best,” Cynthia said, sympathetically, and she drew - the baby up close to her face and kissed it tenderly. - </p> - <p> - Late in the afternoon Cynthia went home. She helped her mother prepare - supper, and after it was over she followed the example of the others and - retired to her room. For an hour she sat sewing at her table, every now - and then stifling a sigh. She rose and looked out of her window, at the - wing of the house on the left. It was dark; the family were already - asleep. She would undress and go to bed, but she knew she would lie awake - for a long time, and that she dreaded. - </p> - <p> - Just then a sound broke the stillness of the night. Ah, she knew it so - well! She sank back into her chair, quivering from head to foot in - excitement. It was the whippoorwill call. It came again, more insistent, - more pleading, but Cynthia sat motionless. Again it came; this time it was - as if the weird notes were full of aggrieved inquiry. What was the matter? - Why was she delaying? Cynthia rose, moved to the door of her room, but - with her hand on the latch she paused. Then she turned back to her table - and blew out her light, and began to disrobe in the darkness. No, she - would not go in that manner to him again—never—never! To - expect such a thing of Evelyn Duncan would not have entered his mind. Her - mother was right. Evelyn Duncan was one thing in his estimation—she - another. In the darkness she got into bed and drew the covering over her - head that she might shut out the sound, for it pained her. There was - silence for several minutes, then she heard the night bird's call farther - away in the direction of the swamp. Floyd was going home. For hours she - lay awake, unable to sleep. Once she sat upright with a start. Perhaps - that would be the end. Perhaps she had driven him away, when if only she - had obeyed the promptings of her heart he and she might—but he was - gone, and, according to her mother's cautious view, she had acted for the - best; and yet how could she ever forget the vast respect with which he had - treated her that night at the mill? If he had been a bad man he would have - shown it then. But he wasn't; he was good and thoughtful of her feelings. - And he had come to-night full of his recent discovery. He wanted to tell - her all about it, as he had told her of other things touching his inner - life, and she had repulsed him—driven him away—to Evelyn - Duncan. A sob struggled up in her bosom and forced its way to the surface. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> WEEK later Pole - Baker came back from Darley on foot. He was covered with dust, his - clothing was soiled and torn, his hair unkempt. He looked thinner; his big - eyes seemed to burn in their sockets as if fed by the slow oil of despair. - He paused at the well at the court-house to get a drink of water. He drank - copiously from the big wooden bucket, and wiped his mouth on the back of - his dusty hand. It was a very quiet afternoon at Springtown; scarcely any - one was in sight. Pole moved over to the steps of the public building and - sat down in abject indecision. “The Lord knows I ort to go on home to - Sally an' the childem,” he groaned, “but how kin I?—how kin I?” - </p> - <p> - He sat there for half an hour, his head hanging, his great hands twitching - nervously. Presently a shadow fell on the ground before him, and, looking - up, he saw a negro boy extending a letter to him. - </p> - <p> - “A man told me ter give you dis here, Mr. Baker,” the boy said. - </p> - <p> - “What man?” Pole asked, as he took the communication. - </p> - <p> - “I didn't know 'im, suh. I never seed 'im before. He looked ter me like a - mountain man. He was ridin' a little white mule, an' as soon as he gimme - de letter an' tol me whar you was a settin' he whipped his mule an' rid - off.” - </p> - <p> - Pole held the letter in his hand till the boy had gone, then he tore the - envelope open and read it. It slipped from his inert fingers to the - ground, and Pole, with glaring eyes, picked it up and read it again and - again. To him it was worse than a death-blow. - </p> - <p> - <i>“Pole Baker,” it began; “we, the Mountain-side White Cap Association, - beg leave to inform you that we have sat in council at three separate - meetings on your case of protracted drunkenness and family neglect. If any - other man in the county had done as you have, he would have met with - punishment long ago, but your friends put in excuses for you and postponed - it. However, we met again last night and decided that it was our duty to - act in your case. For ten days now your wife, a sweet, patient woman, has - been verging on to despair through you. We hold that no living man has a - right to tie a good woman to him by cords of love and pity and then - torture her on the rack night and day just to gratify a beastly appetite. - This step is being taken with great regret, and by men not known to you, - but who admire you in many ways and like you. Punishment has been dealt - out here in the mountains to good effect, as you yourself have been heard - to admit, and we confidently believe that after we have acted in your case - you will be a better man to them that are dependent on you. To-night at - eight o'clock sharp our body will be at the gum spring, half-way between - your farm and the court-house. If you are there to meet us, the - disagreeable matter of whipping you will be done there, out of sight and - hearing of your wife and children; if not, we will have to do as we have - done in the case of other men, go to your house and take you out. We - earnestly hope you will meet us, and that you will be prepared to make us - promises that you will keep.</i> - </p> - <p> - “<i>Respectfully,</i> - </p> - <p> - “<i>The Mountain-side White Cap Association.</i>” - </p> - <p> - Pole stared at the ground for a long time; the veins of his neck and brow - stood out as if from physical torture. He looked about him suddenly in a - spasm of effort to think of some escape from his impending doom. There was - Nelson Floyd. He would grant him any request. He could draw upon the young - merchant for unlimited funds, and before the fated hour arrived he could - be far away from the country and his wife and children. A great lump rose - inside of him and tore itself outward through his throat. No, he couldn't - leave them; it was further out of his power now than ever. Besides, had he - not brought all this on himself? Was not the threatened punishment equally - as just in his case as it had been in the case of others among his - neighbors? He rose to his feet. There was nothing left for him to do but - to go home, and—yes, meet the White Caps at the appointed place and - take what was coming to him bravely. Shoot? Defend his rights? Kill the - men who were taking the part of those he himself had sworn to love and - stand by?—no! The punishment?—yes; but after that, to his - confused brain, all was a painful blank. His wife and children had always - comforted him in trouble, but could they do so now? Would not the sight of - their anxious faces only add to his load of remorse? As he went along the - road towards his home, his rugged breast rose and expanded under his - ragged shirt and then slowly fell. He was a dead man alive—a - breathing, rotting horror in his own sight. A shudder went over him; he - heard the commanding voice of the leader of the outlaws; he felt the lash - and braced himself for another blow, which he hoped would cut deep enough - to pierce the festering agony within him. Then his lower lip began to - quiver, and tears came into his great, glaring eyes. He was beginning to - pity himself, for, when all had been said and done, could he really have - acted differently? Had God actually given him the moral and physical - strength to avoid the pits into which he had stumbled with the - helplessness of a little child? - </p> - <p> - The road led him into the depths of a wood where the boughs of mighty - trees arched overhead and obscured the sunlit sky. He envied a squirrel - bounding unhindered to its nest. Nature seemed to hold out her vast, - soothing arms to him. He wanted to sink into them and sob out his pent-up - agony. In the deepest part of the wood, where rugged cliffs bordered the - road, he came to the spring mentioned in the letter. Here he paused and - looked about him. On this spot the most awful experience of his rugged - life would be enacted. - </p> - <p> - With a shudder he passed on. The trees grew less dense, and then on a rise - ahead of him he saw his humble cottage, like a cheerless blot on the green - lush-sward about it. He wanted now to search the face of his wife. For ten - days, the letter said, she had suffered. She had suffered so much that the - neighbors had taken up her cause—they had taken it up when he—great - God!—when he loved her and the children with every tortured cord of - his being! They had come to his wife's aid against him, her prime enemy. - Yes, they should whip him, and he would tell them while they were at it to - lay it on—to lay it on! and God sanction the cause. - </p> - <p> - He entered the gate. His wife was sitting in the little hall, a wooden - bowl in her lap, shelling pease; on a blanket at her feet lay the baby. He - went up the steps and stood in the doorway. She raised her eyes and saw - him, and then lowered her head, saying nothing, though she was deathly - pale. He stared helplessly for a moment, and then went out behind the - house and sat down in a chair under a tree, near his beehives and his - bent-toothed, stone-weighted harrow. A deeper feeling of despair had come - over him, for it was the first time his wife had ever refused to greet him - in some way or other on his return home. On the banks of a spring branch - below the barn, he saw his older children playing, but he could not bear - the sight of them, and, with his elbows on his knees, he covered his face - with his hands. The memory came to him of men who had killed themselves - when in deep trouble, but he brushed the thought away. They were shirking - cowards. For half an hour he sat thus. He heard the children laughing as - they continued their romp up and down the stream. Then his wife slowly - came out to him. She was still pale, and it seemed to him that she was - thinner than she had ever been before. - </p> - <p> - “Pole, darlin',” she began, with a catch in her voice, “some o' the - neighbors has been tellin' me that I ort not to be kind an' good to you - when you come home after you've done us this away, an' I acknowledge I did - try just now to act sorter cold, but I can't. Oh, Pole, I ain't mad at - you, darlin'! My heart is so full o' joy at seein' you back home, safe an' - sound, that I don't know what to do. I know you are sorry, darlin', fer - you always are, an' you look more downcast than I ever seed you in all my - life. Oh, Pole, I've suffered, I'll admit, but that can't equal my joy - right now at seein' you home with that sweet, sorry look in yore eyes. - Pole, darlin', won't you kiss me? You would ef I hadn't turned from you as - I did in the house jest now. Don't—don't blame me! I hardly knowed - what I was doin'.” - </p> - <p> - A sob rose in him and burst. She saw his emotion, and put her arms around - his neck. - </p> - <p> - “It was that meddlesome old Mrs. Snodgrass who put me up to actin' that - away,” she said, tenderly. “But I'll never do it ag'in. The idea! An' me - ever' bit as happy as I was the day we married one another! Thar comes - little Billy, as hard as he kin move his little fat legs. Wipe yore eyes, - Pole; don't let him see you a-cryin'. He'd remember it all his life—childern - are so quar. Thar, wipe 'em on my apron—no, le' <i>me</i> do it. - He's axed about you a hundred times a day. The neighbors' childern talked - before him an' made him wonder.” - </p> - <p> - The child, red in the face and panting, ran into his father's outstretched - arms. - </p> - <p> - “Whar you been, papa?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Over to Darley, Billy,” Pole managed to say. - </p> - <p> - “Are you goin' to stay at home any more, papa?” was the next query. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Billy—I hope so. What have you childern been playing with down - at the branch?” - </p> - <p> - “Johnny made a boat, papa, but it wouldn't swim. It sunk when he put sand - on it. Will you make me a boat, papa?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Billy.” - </p> - <p> - “When, papa?” - </p> - <p> - “To-morrow, Billy.” Pole pressed his rough face to the child's smooth, - perspiring brow, and then put him down. “Now run and play,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “I've put on some coffee to boil,” said Mrs. Baker when the child had - left. “I know you want some. Pole, you look all unstrung. I never seed you - so nervous. Yore hands are twitchin', an' I never seed sech a awful look - in yore face. Don't you want me to cook some'n' special fer you to eat, - Pole?” - </p> - <p> - “Not a thing, Sally,” he gulped. “The coffee is enough.” - </p> - <p> - She went into the house and came back with it. As she drew near he noted - that the sun was fast going down; the shadow of the hill, to the west of - the cottage, was creeping rapidly across the level field below. It would - soon be eight o'clock, and then— - </p> - <p> - “Here it is,” said Sally, at his elbow. “It's as strong as I could make - it. It will steady your nerves. Oh, Pole, I'm so glad you got back! I - couldn't have gone through another night like the others. It would have - killed me.” - </p> - <p> - He raised the coffee-cup to keep from seeing her wistful, dark-ringed - eyes. - </p> - <p> - Night came on apace. He sat in his chair while she busied herself with - heeding and putting the children to bed. Her voice rang with joy and - relief as she spoke to them; once she sang a bar of an old ballad. It - vividly recalled their courtship days. He moved his chair to the porch. He - sat there awhile, and then went to feed his horse and cattle, telling - himself, the while, that he had made his wife do his work for the past ten - days that he might sink to the level of a beast. - </p> - <p> - After supper the two sat together in the moonlight on the porch, he - silent, she talkative and full of joy. The old-fashioned clock on the - mantel within struck seven. He waited about half an hour longer, and then - he rose to his feet. - </p> - <p> - “I want to go to the store and see Nelson Floyd,” he said. “I'll be back - inside of an hour, sure.” - </p> - <p> - She stared at him irresolutely for a moment, then she uttered a low groan. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Pole, Pole, Pole! I don't want you to go,” she cried. “You know why. - If you get whar any liquor is now, you—you may go off again. Stay - with me, Pole! I'll give you some strong coffee. I'll do anything ruther - than have you out o' my sight now that you are safe at home. You won't - spile all my happiness by goin' off again. Will you, darlin'?” - </p> - <p> - He caught her wrist with his left hand and held his right steadily upward. - </p> - <p> - “I'll swear to you, Sally, before God, that I won't tetch a single drop, - and that I'll be back inside of an hour. You kin trust me now, Sally. You - never heard me speak this way before.” - </p> - <p> - Their eyes met. “Yes, I kin trust you when you talk that away,” she said. - “Don't be gone longer than an hour, Pole. I'll set right here on the porch - and wait for you.” - </p> - <p> - “All right. I'll keep my word, Sally.” - </p> - <p> - Out at the gate he passed, moving away, his head down, his long arms - swinging disconsolately at his sides. When out of sight of the cottage he - quickened his step. He must not be late. They must not, under any - circumstances, come nearer to his house than the spring, and he must try - to secure their promise not to let his degradation reach the ears of his - wife and children. He could not stand that. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>EACHING the - appointed place, he sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree to wait. - By-and-by he heard voices in the distance, and then the tramp, tramp of - footsteps. A dark blur appeared in the moonlight on the road. It was a - body of men numbering between twenty-five and thirty. They were all afoot, - and, by way of precaution against identification, they wore white caps - over their heads, with holes for the eyes. In their mouths they had - stuffed wads of cotton to muffle and disguise their voices. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I see you've acted sensible, Baker,” said a man who seemed in the - lead. “Some o' the boys 'lowed you'd cut an' shoot; but you hain't armed, - are you, Pole?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I hain't armed, Joe Dilworthy.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh, you think you know me!” the speaker said, with a start. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know you,” answered Pole. “I'd know you anywhar in the world by - yore shape an' voice.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you may <i>think</i> I'm anybody you like,” returned the masked - man. “That's neither here nur thar. I've been app'inted to do the talkin' - to-night, Pole, an' I want to say, at the start, that this is the most - disagreeable job that this association ever tackled. Yore case has been up - before our body time after time, an' some'n' always throwed it out, fer - you've got stacks an' stacks o' friends. But action was finally tuck, an' - here we are. Pole, do you know any valid reason why you shouldn't be - treated 'ike other malefactors in these mountains?” - </p> - <p> - There was silence. Pole's head was hanging down. They could not see his - face in the moonlight. - </p> - <p> - “No, I don't see no reason,” the condemned man finally said. “I'm here to - meet you, to tell you that I deserve more'n you fellows could lay on me ef - you begun now an' kept up a steady lick till the last one of you was - fagged out. The only trouble, gentlemen, is that I hain't a-goin' to <i>feel</i> - the lash. Thar's a pain inside o' me so keen an' fur down that what you do - jest to my body won't count. You are the friends of my wife an' childern; - you are better friends to 'em than I've been, an' I want you to strip me - to my dirty hide an' whip my duty into me, ef that is possible. The only - thing I would ask is to spare my folks the knowledge of it, ef you kin see - it that away. Keep this thing quiet—jest amongst us. I may be able - to brace up an' try to do right in the future, but I don't believe I kin - ef they know o' my humiliation. - </p> - <p> - “I don't ax that as a favor to myself, you understand, gentlemen, but to - them you are befriendin'—a weak woman an' helpless little childern.” - </p> - <p> - Pole ceased speaking. There was profound silence, broken only by the - croaking of frogs in the spring branch near by. Dilworthy thrust his hands - into the pockets of his trousers awkwardly, and slowly turned his eyeholes - upon the eyeholes about him, but no one made sign or sound. - </p> - <p> - “Boys, you all hear what Pole says,” finally came from him. “He seems to - feel—I mought say to realize—that—” The voice spent - itself in the folds of the speaker's mask. - </p> - <p> - “Hold! I want to say a word.” A tall, lank man stepped from the group, - spitting wads of cotton from his mouth and lifting the cap from his head. - “I'm Jeff Wade, Pole. You see who I am. You kin appear agin me before the - grand jury an' swear I'm a member o' this gang, ef you want to. I don't - give a damn. In j'inin' the association, I tuck the oath to abide by what - the majority done. But I didn't take no oath that I wouldn't talk when I - got ready, an' I want now to explain, as is my right, I reckon, how I - happen to be here. I've fit this case agin you fer several meetin's with - all my soul an' strength, beca'se I knowed you was too good a man at heart - to whip like a dog fer what you've done. I fit it an' fit it, but last - meetin' my wife was down havin' another twelve-pound boy, as maybe you - heard, an' somehow in my absence the vote went agin you. Strong speeches - was made by yore wife's kin about her treatment, an' action was finally - tuck. But I'm here to say that every lick that falls on yore helpless back - to-night will hurt me more than ef they was on me You've made a better man - out o' me in a few ways, Pole, an', by God! I'm a-goin' to feel like some - o' that dirty crowd felt away back thar when they went along an' - sanctioned the death agony of our Saviour. You are too good a man, Pole, - to be degraded this away. What you've done agin yore own was through - weakness that you couldn't well help. We've all got our faults, but I - don't know a man in this gang that's got as many good p'ints to counteract - the bad as you have.” - </p> - <p> - “That's all right, Jeff,” Pole said, stolidly. “What you say don't excuse - me. I stand here to-night convicted by my neighbors of mistreatin' my own - blood an' heart kin, an' I don't want nobody to defend me when sech men as - Sandy McHugh tuck what was comin' to them without a whimper. I don't know - what effect it's goin' to have on me. I cayn't see that fur ahead. I've - tried to quit liquor about as hard as any man alive, an' I'm not goin' to - make promises an' break 'em. After this is over, I reckon I'll do whatever - the Lord has laid out fer me to do.” - </p> - <p> - “Pole, I'm Mel Jones!” Another tall man divested himself of cap and mask - and stood out in full view. “I voted agin this, too. I'm yore friend, - Pole. That's all I got to say.” - </p> - <p> - “That's all right, Mel,” said Pole, “an' I'm much obliged to you. But, - gentlemen, I told my wife I was goin' to town an' would be straight back. - You hain't said whether it would be possible to keep this thing quiet—” - </p> - <p> - “Quiet hell!” snorted Dilworthy. “Do you damn fools think I'm goin' to act - as leader fer a lot o' snifflin' idiots that don't know whar they are at - or how they got thar? It may not be parliamentary by a long shot, but as - chairman o' this meetin' I'm goin' to say that I think you've all made a - mess of the whole thing. I 'lowed I could abide by what the majority done - in any matter that was pendin' before us, but I'll be derned ef I'm in - favor o' tetchin' <i>that thar man</i>. I'd every bit as soon drag my old - mammy from the grave an' whip her as a man feelin' like that thar 'un. I - believe Pole Baker's tried as hard as any livin' mortal to behave hisse'f, - an' that's enough. A gang o' men that's goin' about whippin' folks who's - doin' the'r level best ort to be in better business, an' from to-night on—oath - or no oath—I'm a-goin' to let the law o' the land manage the conduct - o' my neighbors, as fur as I am concerned. It may be contrary to - parliamentary rules, as I say, but this damn thing is so lopsided to-night - that I'm a-goin' to put it to another vote. Maybe, ef Pole had a-been - allowed to 'a' made a statement you'd 'a' seed this thing different. Now, - all in favor of enactin' the verdict of our court in this case hold up - yore hands.” - </p> - <p> - There was a portentous pause. Not a hand was raised. - </p> - <p> - “See thar? What did I tell you?” Dilworthy exclaimed, in disgust. “Not a - man amongst you knows his own mind. Now, to the contrary: all in favor o' - sendin' Baker home without tetchin' him raise yore hands.” - </p> - <p> - Every hand went up. Pole stared blankly from one stiff token of pity to - another, then his head went down. The brim of his old hat hid his face. He - was silent. The crowd was filtering away. Soon only Jeff Wade was left. He - gave Pole his hand, and in an awkward voice said: “Go home now, old - friend. Don't let Sally suspicion this. It would hurt her mighty bad.” - </p> - <p> - Pole said nothing at all, but, returning Wade's hand-pressure, he moved - away in the soft moonlight. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXIV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE following - Sunday morning Nelson Floyd went to church. From the doorway he descried a - vacant seat on the side of the house occupied by the men and boys, and - when he had taken it and looked over the well-filled room, he saw that he - had Cynthia Porter in plain view. She had come alone. A few seats behind - her he saw Pole Baker and his wife. Pole had never looked better. He wore - a new suit of clothes and had recently had his hair trimmed. Floyd tried - to catch his eye, but Pole looked neither to the right nor left, seeming - only intent on Hillhouse, who had risen to read the chapter from the Bible - which contained the text for his sermon. In their accustomed places sat - Captain Duncan and his daughter Evelyn. The old gentleman had placed his - silk-hat on the floor at the end of the bench on which he sat, and his - kid-gloved hands rested on his gold-headed, ebony cane, which stood erect - between his knees. - </p> - <p> - When the service was over and the congregation was passing out, Floyd - waited for Cynthia, whom he saw coming out immediately behind the Duncans. - “Hello, Floyd; how are you?” the captain exclaimed, cordially, as he came - up. “Going home? Daughter and I have a place for you in the carriage and - will drop you at the hotel—that is, if you won't let us take you on - to dinner.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd flushed. Cynthia was now quite near, and he saw from her face that - she had overheard the invitation. - </p> - <p> - “I thank you very much, captain,” Floyd said, as he smiled and nodded to - her, “but I see that Miss Cynthia is alone, and I was just waiting to ask - her to let me walk home with her.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I see!” Duncan exclaimed, with a gallant bow and smile to Cynthia. “I - wouldn't break up a nice thing like that if I could. I haven't forgotten - my young days, and this is the time of the year, my boy, when the grass is - green and the sun drives you into the shade.” - </p> - <p> - With a very haughty nod to Floyd and Cynthia together, Evelyn Duncan - walked stiffly on ahead of her father. - </p> - <p> - Outside, Cynthia looked straight into the eyes of her escort. - </p> - <p> - “Why did you refuse Captain Duncan's invitation?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Why did I?” He laughed, mysteriously. “Because during service I made up - my mind that I'd get to you before the parson did; and then I had other - reasons.” - </p> - <p> - “What were they?” - </p> - <p> - “Gossip,” he said, with a low, significant laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Gossip? I don't understand,” Cynthia said, perplexed. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I heard,” Floyd replied, “that since I've been finally invited to - Duncan's house I'll run there night and day, and that it will end in my - marrying that little bunch of lace and ribbons. I heard other - speculations, too, on my future conduct, and as I saw our village talker, - Mrs. Snodgrass, was listening just now, I was tickled at the chance to - decline the invitation and walk home with you. It will be all over the - country by night.” - </p> - <p> - They were traversing a cool, shaded road now, and as most of the - congregation had taken other directions, they were comparatively alone. - </p> - <p> - “Evelyn Duncan is in love with you,” Cynthia said, abruptly, her glance on - the ground. - </p> - <p> - “That's ridiculous,” Floyd laughed. “Simply ridiculous.” - </p> - <p> - “I know—I saw it in her face when you said you were going home with - me. She could have bitten my head off.” - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious, I've never talked with her more than two or three times in - all my life.” - </p> - <p> - “That may be, but she has heard dozens of people say it will be just the - thing for you to marry her, and she has wondered—” Cynthia stopped. - </p> - <p> - “Look here, little woman, we've had enough of this,” Floyd said, abruptly. - “I saw the light in your room the other night, and I stood and whistled - and whistled, but you wouldn't come to me. I had a lot to tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “I told you I'd never meet you that way again, and I meant it.” Cynthia - was looking straight into his eyes. . - </p> - <p> - “I know you did, but I thought you might relent. I was chock full of my - new discovery—or rather Pole Baker's—and I wanted to pour it - out on you.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course, you are happy over it?” Cynthia said, tentatively. - </p> - <p> - “It has been the one great experience of my life,” said Floyd, - impressively. “No one who has not been through it, Cynthia, can have any - idea of what it means. It is on my mind at night when I go to bed; it is - in my dreams; it is in my thoughts when I get up.” - </p> - <p> - “I wanted to know about your mother,” ventured the girl, reverently. “What - was she like?” - </p> - <p> - “That is right where I'm in the dark,” Floyd answered. “Pole didn't get my - new relative to say a thing about her. I would have written to him at - length, but Pole advised me to wait till I could see him personally. My - uncle seems to be a crusty, despondent, unlucky sort of old fellow, and, - as there was a kind of estrangement between him and my father, Pole thinks - it would irritate him to have to answer my letters. However, I am going - down to Atlanta to call on him next Wednesday.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see,” said Cynthia. “Speaking of Pole Baker—I suppose you - heard of what the White Caps did the other night?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and it pained me deeply,” said Floyd, “for I was the indirect cause - of the whole trouble.” - </p> - <p> - “You?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Pole is this way: It is usually some big trouble or great joy that - throws him off his balance, and it was the good news he brought to me that - upset him. It was in my own room at the hotel, too, that he found the - whiskey. A bottle of it was on my table and he slipped it into his pocket - and took it off with him. I never missed it till I heard he was on a - spree. His friends are trying to keep his wife from finding out about the - White Caps.” - </p> - <p> - “They needn't trouble further,” Cynthia said, bitterly. “I was over there - yesterday. Mrs. Snodgrass had just told her about it, and I thought the - poor woman would die. She ordered Mrs. Snodgrass out of the house, telling - her never to darken her door again, and she stood on the porch, as white - as death, screaming after her at the top of her voice. Mrs. Snodgrass was - so frightened that she actually broke into a run.” - </p> - <p> - “The old hag!” Floyd said, darkly. “I wish the same gang would take her - out some night and tie her tongue at least.” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Baker came back to me then,” Cynthia went on. “She put her head in - my lap and sobbed as if her heart would break. Nothing I could possibly - say would comfort her. She worships the ground Pole walks on. And she <i>ought</i> - to love him. He's good and noble and full of tenderness. She saw him - coming while we were talking, and quickly dried her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “'He mustn't see me crying,' she said. 'If he thought I knew this he would - never get over it.' - </p> - <p> - “He came in then and noticed her red eyes, and I saw him turn pale as he - sat studying her face. Then to throw him off she told him a fib. She told - him I'd been taking her into my confidence about something which she was - not at liberty to reveal.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I see,” exclaimed Floyd, admiringly. “She's a shrewd little woman—nearly - as shrewd as he is.” - </p> - <p> - “But he acted queerly after that, I must say,” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia went on. “He at once quit looking at her, and sat staring at me in - the oddest way. I spoke to him, but he wouldn't answer. When I was going - home, he followed me as far as the bam. 'You couldn't tell me that secret, - could you, little sister?' he said, with a strange, excited look on his - face. Of course, I saw that he thought it was some trouble of mine, but I - couldn't set him right and be true to his wife, and so I said nothing. He - walked on with me to the branch, still looking worried; then, when we were - about to part, he held out his hand. 'I want to say right here, little - sister,' he said, 'that I love you like a brother, and if any harm comes - to you, <i>in any way</i>, I'll be with you.'” - </p> - <p> - “He's very queer,” said Floyd, thoughtfully. They were now near the house - and he paused. “I'll not go any farther,” he said. “It will do no good to - disturb your mother. She hates the ground I walk on. She will only make it - unpleasant for you if she sees us together. Good-bye, I'll see you when I - get back from Atlanta.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE following - Wednesday afternoon, when he had concluded his business at one of the - larger wholesale houses in Atlanta, Nelson Floyd took a street-car for his - uncle's residence. Reaching it, he was met at the door by the white woman - who had admitted Pole Baker to the house on his visit to Atlanta. She - explained that her master had only gone across the street to see a - neighbor, and that he would be back at once. She led Floyd into the - old-fashioned parlor and gave him one of the dilapidated, hair-cloth - chairs, remaining in the room to put a few things to rights, and dusting - the furniture with her apron. On either side of the mantel-piece hung a - crude oil-portrait, in cracked and chipped gilt frames of very massive - make. The one on the right was that of a dark-haired gentleman in the - conventional dress of seventy-five years previous. The other was evidently - his wife, a woman of no little beauty. They were doubtless family - portraits, and Floyd regarded them with reverential interest. The servant - saw him looking at them and remarked: “They are Mr. Floyd's mother and - father, sir. The pictures were made a long time ago. Old Mr. Floyd was a - very smart man in his day, and his wife was considered a great beauty and - a belle, so I've heard folks say, though I'm sure I don't see how any - woman could be popular with her hair fixed that bungly way. But Mr. Floyd - is very proud of the pictures. He wouldn't sell them for any price. We - thought the house was going to burn down one day when the kitchen-stove - turned over, and he sprained his ankle climbing up in a chair to get them - down.” - </p> - <p> - “They are my grandparents,” he told her. - </p> - <p> - “You don't say! Then you are Mr. Floyd's—” - </p> - <p> - “I'm his nephew. My name is Floyd—Nelson Floyd. I've never met my - uncle.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see!” The woman's brow was corrugated. “Mr. Floyd <i>did</i> have a - brother who died young, but I don't think I ever heard him speak of him. - But he don't talk much to anybody, and now—la me!—he's so - worried over his business that he's as near crazy as any man I ever saw. - You say you haven't ever seen him! Then you'd better not expect him to be - very sociable. As I say, he's all upset over business. The way he's doing - is the talk of the neighborhood. There, I heard the gate shut. I reckon - that's him now.” - </p> - <p> - She went to one of the front windows and parted the curtains and looked - out. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's him. I'll go and tell him you are here.” - </p> - <p> - Nelson heard the door open and close and then muffled voices, a gruff, - masculine one, and that of the servant lowered persuasively. Heavy steps - passed on down the hall, and then the woman came back. - </p> - <p> - “I told him you was here, sir,” she said. “He's gone to his room, but will - be back in a minute. He's queer, sir; if you haven't seen him before you - had as well be prepared for that. I heard Dr. Plympton say the other day - that if he didn't stop worrying as he is that he'd have a stroke of - paralysis.” - </p> - <p> - The woman retired and the visitor sat for several moments alone. Presently - he heard the heavy-steps in the hall and Henry A. Floyd came in. He was - very pale, his skin appearing almost ashen in color, and his eyes, under - their heavy brows, had a restless, shifting expression. Nelson felt - repelled in a way he could not account for. The old man failed to offer - any greeting, and it was only the caller's extended hand that seemed to - remind him of the courtesy due a stranger. Even then only the ends of his - cold fingers touched those of the young man. A thrill of intense and - disagreeable surprise passed over Nelson, for his uncle stood staring at - him steadily, without uttering a word. - </p> - <p> - “Did your servant tell you who I am?” the young man ventured, in no little - embarrassment. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, she told me,” old Floyd answered. “She told me.” - </p> - <p> - “From your stand-point, sir,” Nelson said, “perhaps I have little excuse - for coming to see you without an intimation from you that such a visit - would be welcome, but I confess I was so anxious to hear, something from - you about my parents that I couldn't wait longer.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh, I see, I see!” exclaimed the old man, his glance on the floor. - </p> - <p> - “You may understand my eagerness more fully,” said Nelson, “when I tell - you that you are the first and only blood relative I remember ever to have - seen.” - </p> - <p> - The old man shrugged his bent shoulders, and Nelson was almost sure that - he sneered, but no sound came from his tightly compressed lips. - </p> - <p> - The young man, in even greater embarrassment, looked at the portraits on - the wall, and, for the lack of anything more appropriate to say, remarked: - “Your servant tells me that these are my grandparents—your father - and mother.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, they are my parents,” the old man said, deep down in his throat. - Then all of a sudden his eyes began to flash angrily. “That old hussy's - been talking behind my back, has she? I'll teach her what her place is in - my house, if—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, she only answered a question or two of mine,” said Nelson, - pacifically. “I told her you were my uncle and for that reason I was - interested in family portraits.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Your uncle!</i>” That was all the reply old Floyd made. - </p> - <p> - Nelson stared at him in deep perplexity for a moment, then he said: “I - hope I am not on the wrong track, sir. A friend of mine—a rough - mountaineer, it's true, but a sterling fellow—called here some time - ago, and he came back and told me that you said—” - </p> - <p> - “He came here like the spy that he was,” snorted the old man. “He came - here to my house pretending to want to rent land, and in that way got into - my confidence and had me talk about family matters; but he didn't want to - rent land. When he failed to come back my suspicions were roused and I - made inquiries. I found out that he was the sharpest, keenest man among - mountain revenue detectives, and that he had no idea of leaving his - present location. Now I'd simply like to know what you and he are after. I - haven't got anything for you—not a dollar in the world, nor any - property that isn't mortgaged up to the hilt. Why did you send a man of - that kind to me?” - </p> - <p> - “You actually astound me, sir,” Nelson said. “I hardly know what to say.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon you don't—now that I hurl the unexpected truth into your - teeth. You didn't think I'd be sharp enough to inquire about that fellow - Baker, did you? You thought a man living here in a city as big as this - would let a green country lout like that get him in a trap. Huh! But I - wasn't a fool, sir. You thought you were getting facts from me through - him, but you were not, by a long shot. I wasn't going to tell a stranger - like that delicate family matters. God knows your father's conduct was - disgraceful enough without my unfolding his life to a coarse greenhorn so - long after his death. You know the reputation my brother Charles had, - don't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Not till it came from you, sir,” said Nelson, coldly. “Baker told me you - said he was a little wild, that he drank—” - </p> - <p> - “My father kicked him out of our home, I tell you,” the old man snapped. - “He told him never to darken his door again, after the way he lived before - the war and during it. It completely broke that woman's heart.” Old Floyd - pointed a' trembling finger at his mother's portrait. “I don't understand - why you—how you can come here as you do, calling me your uncle as if - you had a right to do so.” - </p> - <p> - “Right to do so?—stop!” Nelson took him up sharply. “What do you - mean? I've the right to ask that, sir, anyway.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you know what I mean, I reckon. That man Baker intimated that you - knew all about your family history. You know that your mother and my poor, - deluded brother were never married, that they—” - </p> - <p> - “Not married!” Nelson Floyd shrank as if he had been struck in the face. - “For God's sake don't say that! I can stand anything but that.” - </p> - <p> - “I won't ask you to believe me without ample proof,” old Floyd answered, - harshly. “Wait here a minute.” - </p> - <p> - Nelson sank into a chair, and pale and trembling, and with a heart that - seemed dead within him, he watched the old man move slowly from the room. - Old Floyd returned presently. An expression that seemed born of grim, - palpitating satisfaction lay on his colorless face; a triumphant light - blazed in his sullen eyes. He held some books and a package of letters in - his hands. - </p> - <p> - “Here are your father's letters to my parents,” he began. “The letters - will tell the whole story. They bear his signature. If you doubt their - authenticity—if you think the name is forged, you can compare it to - all the specimens of his writing in these old school-books of his. This is - a diary he kept in college. You can see from its character how his life - was tending. The letters are later, after he met your mother—a - French girl—in New Orleans.” - </p> - <p> - For a moment Nelson stared up into the withered face above him, and then, - with a groan of dawning conviction, he took the letters. He opened the one - on the top. - </p> - <p> - How strange! The handwriting was not unlike his own. But that was too - trivial to marvel over. It was the contents of the letter that at once - benumbed and tore his heart in twain. - </p> - <p> - <i>“Dear father and mother,” it began; “I am longing for the old home - to-night; but, as you say, it is perhaps best that I should never come - back again, especially as the facts are known in the neighborhood. The - things you write me in regard to Annette's past are, alas! only too true. - I don't deny them. Perhaps I'm the only one in the world who will overlook - them, for I happen to know how she was tried by poverty and temptation - when she was hardly more than a child. But on one point I can set your - minds at rest. You seem to think that I intend to marry her; but I promise - you now that I shall never link your honored name to hers. Really the poor - girl doesn't wish it. She seems to understand how you feel exactly. And - the baby! you are worried over its future. Let that go. As soon as the war - is over, I shall do my full duty by it. It is nameless, as you say, and - that fact may sting it later in life, but such things have happened - before, and, my dear father and mother, young men have fallen into bad - ways before, and—”</i> - </p> - <p> - Nelson Floyd read no further. Turning the time-stained sheet over, he saw - his father's signature. With lifeless fingers he opened one or two of the - other letters. He tried to glance at the fly-leaves of the books on his - quivering knees, but there was a blur before his sight. The scrawny hands - of the old man were stretched out to prevent the mass from falling to the - floor. - </p> - <p> - “Are you satisfied? That's the main thing,” he said. “Because, if you are - not, there are plenty of legal records which—” - </p> - <p> - “I am satisfied.” Nelson stood up, his inert hand on the back of the - rocking-chair he had just vacated. - </p> - <p> - “I was going to say if you are not I can give you further proof. I can - cite to you old legal documents to which my brother signed his name. He - got hard up and sold a piece of land to me once. I have that deed. You are - welcome to—” - </p> - <p> - “I am satisfied.” Those words seemed the only ones of which the young - man's bewildered brain were capable. But he was a gentleman to the core of - his being. “I'm sorry I intruded on you, Mr. Floyd. Only blind ignorance - on my part—” He went no further. - </p> - <p> - The inanimate objects about him, the chairs, the table, the door towards - which he was moving, seemed to have life. - </p> - <p> - “Well, good-day.” Old Floyd remained in the centre of the room, the books - and letters held awkwardly under his stiff arm. “I see that you were not - expecting this revelation, but you might as-well have been told to-day as - later. I understand that the Duncans and Prices up your way are under - wrong impressions about your social standing, but I didn't want to be the - one to open their eyes. I really don't care myself. However, a thing like - that is sure to get out sooner or later.” - </p> - <p> - “They shall know the truth,” said Floyd, with the lips of a dead man. “I - shall not sail under false colors. Good-day, Mr. Floyd.” - </p> - <p> - Out into the broad, balmy sunlight the young man went. There was a - despondent droop upon him. His step was slow and uncertain, his feet - seemed to him to have weights attached to them. He walked on to the corner - of the next street and leaned against a tree. From the city's palpitating - heart and stony veins came the hum of traffic on wheels, the clanging of - bells, the escaping of steam. Near by some one was practising a monotonous - exercise on a piano. He looked up at the sky with the stare of a subject - under hypnotic influence. - </p> - <p> - A lump was in his dry throat. He made an effort to swallow it down, but it - stuck and pained him. Persons passing caught sight of his face and threw - back stares of mute inquiry as they moved on. After half an hour of - aimless wandering here and there through the crowded streets, he paused at - the door of a bar-room. He recognized the big gilt sign on the plate-glass - windows, and remembered being there years before at midnight with some - jolly friends and being taken to his hotel in a cab. After all, whiskey - now, as then, would furnish forgetfulness, and that was his right. He went - in and sat down at a little round table in the corner of the room. On a - shelf near him was a bowl of brown pretzels, a plate of salted pop-corn, a - saucer of parched coffee-beans mixed with cloves. One of the bartenders - came to him, a towel over his arm. “What will you have, sir?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Rye whiskey straight,” said the customer, his eyes on the sawdust at his - feet. “Bring the bottle along.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXVI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>O Cynthia the day - on which she expected Floyd to return from Atlanta passed slowly. - Something told her that he would come straight to her from the station, on - his arrival, and she was impatient to hear his news. The hack usually - brought passengers over at six o'clock, and at that time she was on the - porch looking expectantly down the road leading to the village. But he did - not come. Seven o'clock struck—eight; supper was over and her - parents and her grandmother were in bed. - </p> - <p> - “I simply will not go to meet him in the grape-arbor any more,” she said - to herself. “He is waiting to come later, but I'll not go out, as much as - I'd like to hear about his mother. He thinks my curiosity will drive me to - it, but he shall see.” However, when alone in her room she paced the floor - in an agony of indecision and beset by strange, unaccountable forebodings. - Might not something have happened to him? At nine o'clock she was in bed, - but not asleep. At half-past nine she got up. The big bed of feathers - seemed a great, smothering instrument of torture; she could scarcely get - her breath. Throwing a shawl over her, she went out on the porch and sat - down in a chair. - </p> - <p> - She had been there only a moment when she heard her mother's step in the - hall, and, turning her head, she saw the gaunt old woman's form in the - doorway. - </p> - <p> - “I heard you walking about,” Mrs. Porter said, coldly, “and got up to see - what was the matter. Are you sick?” - </p> - <p> - “No, mother, I simply am not sleepy, that's all.” The old woman advanced a - step nearer, her sharp eyes on the girl's white night-gown and bare feet. - “Good gracious!” she cried. “You'll catch your death of cold. Go in the - house this minute. I'll bet I know why you can't sleep. You are worried - about what people are saying about Nelson Floyd's marrying Evelyn Duncan - and throwing you over, as he no doubt has many other girls.” - </p> - <p> - “I wasn't thinking of it, mother.” Cynthia rose and started in. “He can - marry her if he wants to.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well, you can pretend all you like. I reckon your pride would make - you defend yourself. Now, go in the house.” - </p> - <p> - In the darkness of her room Cynthia sat on the side of her bed. She heard - her mother's bare feet as the old woman went along the hall back to her - room in the rear. Floyd might be in the grape-arbor now. As her light was - extinguished, he would think she had gone to bed, and he would not - whistle. Then a great, chilling doubt struck her. Perhaps he had really - gone to Duncan's to see Evelyn. But no, a warm glow stole over her as she - remembered that he had declined to go home from church in the captain's - carriage that he might walk with her. No, it was not that; but perhaps - some accident had happened to him—the stage-horses might have become - frightened on that dangerous mountain road. The driver was often - intoxicated, and in that condition was known to be reckless. Cynthia threw - herself back in bed and pulled the light covering over her, but she did - not go to sleep till far towards morning. - </p> - <p> - The sun was up when she awoke. Her mother was standing near her, a - half-repentant look flitting over her wrinkled face. - </p> - <p> - “Don't get up unless you feel like it,” she said. “I've done your work and - am keeping your coffee and breakfast warm.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, mother.” Cynthia sat up, her mind battling with both dreams - and realities. - </p> - <p> - “You don't look like you are well,” Mrs. Porter said. “I watched you - before you waked up. You are awfully dark under the eyes.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll feel all right when I am up and stirring around,” Cynthia said, - avoiding her mother's close scrutiny. “I tell you I'm not sick.” - </p> - <p> - When she had dressed herself and gone out into the dining-room she found a - delicious breakfast waiting for her, but she scarcely touched the food. - The coffee she drank for its stimulating effect, and felt better. All that - morning, however, she was the helpless victim of recurring forebodings. - When her father came in from the village at noon she hung about him, - hoping that he would drop some observation from which she might learn if - Floyd had returned, but the quaint old gossip seemed to talk of everything - except the subject to which her soul seemed bound. - </p> - <p> - About the middle of the afternoon Mrs. Porter said she wanted a spool of - cotton thread, and Cynthia offered to go to the village for it. - </p> - <p> - “Not in this hot sun,” the old woman objected. - </p> - <p> - “I could keep in the shade all the way,” Cynthia told her. - </p> - <p> - “Well, if you'll do that, you may go,” Mrs. Porter gave in. “I don't know - but what the exercise will do you good. I tell you, I don't like the looks - of your skin and eyes. I'm afraid you are going to take down sick. You - didn't touch breakfast and ate very little dinner.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia managed to laugh reassuringly as she went for her hat and - sunshade. Indeed, the prospect even of activity had driven touches of - color into her cheeks and her step was light and alert as she started off—so - at least thought Mrs. Porter, who was looking after her from a window. But - what did the trip amount to? At Mayhew & Floyd's store Joe Peters - waited on her and had nothing to say of Floyd. While the clerk's back was - turned Cynthia threw a guarded glance in the direction of Floyd's desk, - but the shadows of the afternoon had enveloped that part of the room in - obscurity, and she saw nothing that would even indirectly reply to her - heart's question. It was on her tongue to inquire if Floyd had returned, - but her pride laid a firm hand over her pretty mouth, and with her small - purchase tightly clasped in her tense fingers, she went out into the - street and turned her face homeward. - </p> - <p> - The next day passed in much the same way, and the night. Then two other - days and nights of racking torture came and went. The very lack of - interest in the subject, of those about her, was maddening. She was sure - now that something vital had happened to her lover, and Saturday at noon, - when her father came from the village, she saw that he was the bearer of - news. She knew, too, that it concerned Floyd before the old man had opened - his lips. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what you reckon has happened?” Nathan asked, with one of his - unctuous smiles. “You two women could guess, an' guess, fer two thousand - years, an' then never git in a mile o' what everybody in town is talkin' - about.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia's heart sank like a plummet. It was coming—the grim, - horrible revelation she had feared. But her father was subtly enjoying the - blank stare in her eyes, the depth of which was beyond his comprehension. - As usual, he purposely hung fire. - </p> - <p> - “What is it, Nathan?” his wife said, entreatingly. “Don't keep us waiting - as you always do.” She looked at Cynthia and remarked: “It's something out - of the common. I can see that from the way he begins.” - </p> - <p> - Porter laughed dryly. “You kin bet yore sweet lives it's out o' the - common, but I hain't no hand to talk when my throat's parched dry with - thirst. I cayn't drink that town water, nohow. Has any fresh been - fetched?” - </p> - <p> - “Just this minute,” declared his wife, and she hastened to the water-shelf - in the entry, returning with a dripping gourd. “Here, drink it! You won't - say a word till you are ready.” - </p> - <p> - Porter drank slowly. “You may <i>call</i> that fresh water,” he sneered, - “but you wouldn't ef you had it to swallow. I reckon you'd call old stump - water fresh ef you could git news any the quicker by it. Well, it's about - Nelson Floyd.” - </p> - <p> - “Nelson Floyd!” gasped Mrs. Porter. “He's gone and married Evelyn Duncan—that's - my guess.” - </p> - <p> - “No, it ain't that,” declared Porter. “An' it ain't another Wade gal - scrape that anybody knows of. The fact is nobody don't know <i>what</i> it - is. Floyd went down to Atlanta Wednesday, so Mayhew says, to lay in a few - articles o' stock that was out, an' to call on that new uncle o' his. He - was to be back Wednesday night, without fail, to draw up some important - mortgages fer the firm, an' a dozen customers has been helt over in town - fer two days. They all had to go back without transactin' business, fer - Floyd didn't turn up. Nor he didn't write a line, nuther. And, although - old Mayhew has been firin' telegrams down thar, fust to Nelson an' later - to business houses, not a thing has been heard o' the young man since last - Wednesday. He hain't registered at no hotel in Atlanta. One man has been - found that said he knowed Floyd by sight, an' that he had seed 'im walkin' - about at night in the vilest street in Atlanta lookin' like a dead man or - one plumb bereft of his senses.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia stood staring at her father with expanded eyes, and then she sat - down near a window, her face averted from the others. She said nothing. - </p> - <p> - “He's crazy,” said Mrs. Porter. “I've always thought something was wrong - with that man. His whole life shows it. He was an outlaw when he was a - child, and when he grew up he put on high' an' mighty airs, an' started to - drinkin' like a lord. He'd no sooner let up on that than he got into that - Wade trouble, an'—” - </p> - <p> - “Some think he was drugged, an' maybe put out of the way on the sly,” said - Porter, bluntly. “But I don't know. Thoughts is cheap.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, Nathan!” Mrs. Porter said, under her breath, for Cynthia had risen, - and without looking to the right or left was moving from the room. “This - may kill that poor child.” - </p> - <p> - “Kill her, a dog's hind foot!” Porter sneered. “To be a woman yorse'f, you - are the porest judge of 'em I ever seed. You women are so dead anxious to - have some man die fer you that you think the same reckless streak runs in - yore own veins. You all said Minnie Wade had tuck powdered glass when she - was sick that time an' was goin' to pass in 'er checks on this feller's - account, but she didn't die fer him, nor fer Thad Pelham, nor the two - Thomas boys, nor Abe Spring, nor none o' the rest.” - </p> - <p> - “You ought to be ashamed of speaking of your own child in the same breath - with that girl,” said Mrs. Porter, insincerely, her eyes anxiously on the - door through which Cynthia had gone. - </p> - <p> - “I hain't bunchin' 'em together at all,” Porter declared. “I was only - tryin' to keep you from layin' in a burial outfit that may go out o' - fashion 'fore Cynthy wants to use it. You watch 'er an' you'll see 'er - pick up' in a day or so. I've seed widows wear black so heavy that the dye - in the goods seemed to soak into the'r skins an' drip of'n the'r - eyelashes, an' them same women was wearin' red stockin's an' flirtin' em - at another fool inside of a month.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't know what you are talking about,” responded Mrs. Porter. “It is - going hard with her, but I really hope Floyd'll not come back to - Spring-town. I don't feel safe with him around.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't want 'im here,” sneered Porter, “but yo're dead sure his - absence is a-goin' to lay our only child under the sod. That's about as - sensible as the stand a woman takes on most questions. As fer me, I - confess I'm sorter upset. I'd about made up my mind that our little gal - was goin' to yank that chap an' his boodle into this family before long, - but it looks like I was off in my calculations. To look at her now, a body - wouldn't think she was holdin' the drivin'-reins very tight. But come what - may, storm, hail, wind, rain, or sunshine an' fine crops, I'll be the only - one, I reckon, in this house that will sleep sound to-night. An' that's - whar you are all a set o' fools. A person that loses sleep wonderin' - whether another person is dead or alive mought be in better business, in - this day and time, when just <i>anybody</i> is liable to drap dead in - the'r tracks. La, me! What you got fer dinner? I smell some'n' a-cookin'.” - </p> - <p> - And Porter went into the kitchen, got down on his knees at the stove, and - looked into it. - </p> - <p> - “That's all right,” he said to himself, with a chuckle, “but she hain't - put half enough gravy on it, an' ef I hadn't a-been here to 'a' turned it, - it 'ud not 'a' got cooked clean through. If it's tough I'll raise a row. I - told 'em to sell the tough 'uns. What's the use o' raisin' hens ef you - have to eat the scrubs an' don't git half-pay fer the ones you send to - market?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXVII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> WEEK went by. To - Cynthia its days were veritable months of mental torture. Porter came in - one day at sundown from the village. As usual, he had something to say - regarding the all-absorbing topic of Nelson Floyd's mysterious - disappearance. Through the day neighbors had been in with many vague and - groundless rumors, all of which were later discredited, but Nathan Porter, - sardonic old observer that hie was, usually got nearer the facts than any - one else, and in consequence he was always listened to. - </p> - <p> - “What's anybody heard now?” his wife asked him, as he came through the - gate to where she and Cynthia sat on the porch. - </p> - <p> - “They've heard a lots,” he said. “Among other things, it's finally leaked - out that Lee's surrendered an' the niggers is all declared free. Some say - George Washington has jest crossed the Delaware in a tippy-canoe, an' that - Napoleon discovered America, but I doubt it. What I want to know is - whether supper is ready or not.” - </p> - <p> - “No, it isn't,” Mrs. Porter made haste to inform him, “but it will be in a - few minutes. The table's set an' all is ready, except the bread isn't - quite done. Now, what have you heard in town?” - </p> - <p> - “A body kin hear a lots,” Porter drawled out. “The trouble is to keep from - listenin' to so much. People are standin' as thick about Mayhew & - Floyd's shebang as flies over a fresh ginger-cake. You two are the only - women in the county that hain't been thar, an' I'm proud of the - distinction. Old Mrs. Snodgrass mighty nigh had a fisticuff fight to - retain her corner in the store, whar she's had 'er distributin' office fer - the last week. Joe Peters needed the space. He tried to put a coop o' - chickens thar, but you bet the chickens had to go some'rs else. Mrs. Snod' - said she was gittin' hard o' hearin', an' ef she wasn't right thar in the - front she wouldn't git a thing till it was second-handed.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I get out of all patience with you,” cried Mrs. Porter. “Why does it - take you so long to get to a point?” - </p> - <p> - “The truth is, thar ain't any rale developments as I kin see,” Porter gave - in, reluctantly. “Old Mayhew, though, is back from Atlanta. He sets thar, - as yaller as a pumpkin, without much to say. He's got a rope tied to every - nickel he owns, an' he sees absolute ruin ahead o' the firm. He's depended - on Nelson Floyd's popularity an' brains to keep things a-goin' so long - that now he's like a loaded wagon runnin' downhill without a tongue, - swingle-tree, or hold-back strop. You see, ef Nelson Floyd is dead, or put - out o' the way—accordin' to Mrs. Snodgrass, who heard a Darley - lawyer say it—why the young man's interest in the business will - slide over to his new kin—a receiver will have to be appointed an' - Mayhew closed up. Mrs. Snod' is authority fer the statement that Floyd's - uncle has connived agin the boy to git his pile, an' bliffed 'im in the - head with a sock full o' sand or some'n' equally as deadly. I dunno. I - never knowed her to be right about anything, an' I hain't a-goin' to - believe Floyd's dead till the report comes from some other direction. But - this much seems to have foundation in fact: Mayhew <i>did</i> go down; he - <i>did</i> make inquiries of the police; an' some <i>say</i>—now, - mind you, I hain't a-standin' fer this—some say he paid out solid - coin to git expert detectives a-holt o' the matter. They say the - detectives run across a low-class hotel out in the edge o' town whar a - feller answerin' Floyd's description had come in the night after the boy - left here an' axed fer a room. They say he was lookin' awful—like he - had been on a big jag, an' when they give 'im the pen to register he - studied a minute an' then thro wed it at the clerk, an' told 'im he didn't - have no name to sign, an' turned an' stalked out. That was the last seed - of 'im.” - </p> - <p> - “An' that's all you heard,” said Mrs. Porter, in disgust. - </p> - <p> - “All but one thing more,” Porter replied. “Folks about here that has - missed Pole Baker fer the last three days 'lowed he was off on another - bender, but he was down thar in Atlanta nosin' around tryin' to find - Floyd. Old Mayhew paid his expenses. He said Pole had a longer head on 'im - than any detective in the bunch. Pole got back about two hours ago, but - what he discovered not even Mrs. Snod' knows. Him an' Mayhew had the'r - heads clamped together in the rear end o' the store fer an hour, but Joe - Peters helt the crowd back, an' thar it stands.” - </p> - <p> - “Pig-oop-pig-oo! Pig-oop-pig-oo!” The mellow, resonant sound floated to - them on the still air. Porter smiled. - </p> - <p> - “That's Pole now callin' his hogs,” he said, laconically. “The blamed fool - told me t'other day he was goin' to fatten them pigs on buttermilk, but - that sort o' fat won't stick any more'n whiskey bloat on a reformed - drunkard. By the time he drives 'em to market they'll look as flabby as a - ripe tomato with the inside squashed out. Speakin' o' hogs, I want you-uns - to fry me a piece o' that shuck-sausage on the top shelf in the - smoke-house. You'd better go git it now. Swallowin' all that gush in town - has made me want some'n' solid.” - </p> - <p> - When her mother and father had gone into the house Cynthia hastened across - the fields through the gathering dusk in the direction of Pole Baker's - voice. He would tell her, she was sure, if anything of importance had - turned up concerning Floyd, and she could not bear the thought of another - night of suspense. - </p> - <p> - Presently, through the dusk, she saw Pole at his hog-pen in the edge of a - little thicket behind his cottage. - </p> - <p> - “Pig-oop-pig-oo!” she heard him calling. “Dem yore lazy hides, ef you - don't come on I'll empty this bucket o' slop on the ground an' you kin - root fer it. I've mighty nigh ripped the linin' out o' my throat on yore - account.” Then he descried Cynthia coming towards him over the dew-damp - grass and he paused, leaning on the rail-fence, his eyes resting - expectantly on her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it's you, little sister!” he exclaimed, pleasantly. “That's sorter - foolish o' you gittin' them little feet o' yore'n wet in this dew. It may - settle on yore lungs an' keep you from j'inin' in the singin' Sunday.” - </p> - <p> - “I want to see you,” Cynthia said, in a voice that shook. “I heard you - calling your hogs, and thought I'd catch you here.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, little sister, I hain't very nice-lookin' in this old shirt an' - pants of many colors, like Joseph's coat, but every patch was sewed on by - the fingers o' the sweetest, most patient little woman God ever made, an' - I hain't ashamed of 'em; but she is—God bless 'er!—an' she'd - have a spasm ef she knowed I talked to you in 'em.” - </p> - <p> - “My father says you went down to Atlanta,” Cynthia said, falteringly, “and - I thought—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I went down.” Pole avoided her fixed stare. - </p> - <p> - “You went to see if you could learn anything of Mr. Floyd's whereabouts, - didn't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I did, little sister. I hain't a-talkin' much. Mayhew says it's best - to sorter lie low until some'n' accurate is found out, an' while I did my - level best down thar, I've got to acknowledge I'm as much in the dark as - anybody else. In fact, I'm mighty nigh bothered to death over it. Nelson, - poor boy, seems to have disappeared clean off'n the face o' the earth. The - only thing I have to build on is the fact that—an' I hate to say it, - little sister—the fact that he evidently <i>did</i> start to - drinkin' again. He told me once that he wasn't plumb sure o' hisse'f, an' - that any big trouble or despair might overthrow his resolutions. Now, he's - been drinkin', I reckon—an' what could 'a' been his trouble? I went - three times to his uncle's, but the doctors wouldn't let me see 'im. The - old man's broke down with nervous prostration from business troubles, an' - they are afeard he's goin' to kick the bucket. Comin' back on the cars—” - </p> - <p> - Pole's voice died away. He crossed and recrossed his hands on the fence. - He avoided her steady stare. His massive eyebrows met on his wrinkled - forehead. It was as if he were suffering inward pain. “I say—as I - set in the train on the way back tryin' an' tryin' to find some - explanation, the idea come to me that—since trouble was evidently - what upset Nelson—that maybe you mought be able to throw some light - on it.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Me</i>, Mr. Baker?” - </p> - <p> - Pole hung his head; he spat slowly. Was she mistaken, or had he actually - turned pale? Was it that, or a trick of her vision in the vague starlight? - </p> - <p> - “Little sister,” he said, huskily, “you could trust me with yore life. I'd - die rather than—than not stand to you in anything on earth. You see, - if you happened to know any reason why Nelson Floyd—” Pole was - interrupted by the loud grunting and squealing of his drove of hogs as - they rushed round the fence-corner towards him. “Wait,” he said—“wait - till I pour the'r feed in the trough.” - </p> - <p> - He took up the pail and disappeared for a moment behind the cow-house. - </p> - <p> - Cynthia felt a great lump of wondering suspense in her throat. What could - he mean? What was coming? She had never seen Pole act so strangely before. - Presently he came back to her, holding the dripping paddle with which he - had stirred the dregs in the bottom of his slop-bucket. He leaned over the - fence again. - </p> - <p> - “You see, it's this away, little sister,” he began, lamely. “You an' - Nelson—that is, you an' him was sorter runnin' together. He went - with you, I reckon, more, on the whole, than with any other young lady in - this section, an', you see, ef anybody was in a position to know any - particular trouble or worry he had, you mought be that one.” - </p> - <p> - “But I'm afraid I don't know anything of the kind,” she said, wonderingly, - her frank eyes resting blankly on his face. - </p> - <p> - “I see you don't understand me,” he went on. “The God's truth is that I - hain't no hand to talk about delicate matters to a young gal, an' you - above all, but I want to <i>know</i>—I want <i>some'n''</i> to build - on. I don't know how to put what I want to ax. Maybe I'm away—away - off, an' will want to kill myse'f fer even dreamin' that—but—well, - maybe you'll git at what I mean from this. You see, I run in the room on - you an' my wife not long ago an' ketched Sally an' you a-cryin' over - some'n' or other you'd confided to 'er, an' then other things of a like - nature has crapped up lately, an'—” - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand you, Mr. Baker,” said Cynthia, anxiously, when she saw - he was going no further. “I really don't. But I assure you, I'm ready to - tell you anything.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! Are you? Well, I started to say Sally don't cry over other folks' - matters unless they are purty sad, an' you know at the time you refused to - tell me what yore trouble was. Maybe you ain't ready yet, little sister. - But could you tell me, right out plain, what ailed you that day?” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia stared and then dropped her glance to the ground. - </p> - <p> - “I don't see that it would help in the matter,” she said, awkwardly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, maybe it wouldn't,” he declared, in despair; “an' I reckon thar are - things one woman would tell another woman that she wouldn't speak of to a - man.” - </p> - <p> - “I guess that's so,” said Cynthia, still perplexed over the turn the - conversation had taken and yet firm in her determination to say nothing - that would involve Mrs. Baker's secret. - </p> - <p> - “Well, maybe you won't mind it much ef I put it this away,” Pole - continued. “Now, remember, you don't have to say yes or no unless you want - to. Little sister, I'll put it this away: ef Nelson Floyd was to never - come back here again, could you, as—as a good, true woman—could - you conscientiously marry another man? Could you with a clear conscience, - I mean, before God, ever marry another man? Thar, it's out! Could you?” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia started. She looked down. She was silent. Her color rose. - </p> - <p> - “Now, mind,” Pole said, suddenly, “you don't <i>have</i> to answer unless - you want to. No man's got a right to hem a weak, excited woman up in a - corner and get at her heart's secrets.” - </p> - <p> - “Would it do any good for you to know that, Mr. Baker?” the girl said, in - a low voice. - </p> - <p> - “I think so, little sister.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then”—she turned her face away—“I don't think I'd ever - want to marry any other living man.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my God!” Pole averted his face, but not before she had seen its - writhing torture. She stared at him in astonishment, and, to avoid her - eyes, he lowered his head to his arms, which were folded on the top rail - of the fence. Fully a minute passed; still he did not look up. She saw his - broad shoulders rising and falling as if he were trying to subdue a - torrent of emotion. She laid her hand firmly on his arm. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me what you mean,” she suddenly demanded. “I want to know. This has - gone far enough. What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - He raised a pair of great, blearing eyes to hers. He started to speak, but - his voice hung in his throat. Tightening her clasp on his arm she repeated - her demand. - </p> - <p> - “I see through it now,” he found voice to say, huskily. “I don't mean to - say Nelson Floyd is afeard o' man, beast, nor devil when it comes to a <i>just</i> - encounter, but he knows now that ef me an' him was to come face to face - one of us ud have to die, an' he's man enough not to want to kill me in - sech a cause. I gave 'im due warnin'. I told 'im the day he drove you to - bush-arbor meetin' that ef he tuck advantage o' you I'd kill 'im as shore - as God give me the strength. I knowed whar that stormy night was spent, - but I refused to believe the wust. I give 'im the benefit o' that doubt, - but now since you tell me with your own lips that—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! Oh! <i>Oh!</i>” The cry burst from her lips as if she were in sudden - pain. “I don't mean <i>that</i>. Why, I'm a <i>good</i> girl, Mr. Baker! - I'm a good girl!” - </p> - <p> - Pole leaned over the fence and laid his big, quivering hands on her - shoulders. “Thank God!” he gulped, his eyes flashing with joy. “Then I've - still got my little sister an' I've got my friend. Thank God! thank God!” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia stood for a moment with hanging head, and then with a deep sigh - she turned to go away. He climbed over the fence and caught up with her, - the light of a new fear now in his eyes, its fire in his quickened pulse. - </p> - <p> - “I see you ain't never goin' to forgive me in the world fer sayin' what I - did,” he said, humbly; “but God knows I wasn't thinkin' wrong o' you. It - was him, damn 'im!—his hot-blooded natur', an' a lots o' - circumstances that p'inted jest one way. I ain't more'n human, little - sister, an' through that I've offended you beyond forgiveness.” - </p> - <p> - “A woman learns to bear a great many things,” Cynthia said. “My mother and - others have hardened me so that I scarcely feel what you said as any other - pure-minded woman might. Then—then—” She faced him squarely, - and her voice rang out sharply. “We don't know—you don't—I - don't know whether he is alive or—” Her words failed her, a sob, dry - and deep, shook her from head to foot. “Don't curse him as you did just - now, Mr. Baker; you may be cursing a dead man who, himself, was only - human. But I know what he was—I saw his real and higher nature, and, - as it struggled for growth in good and bad soil, it was the most beautiful - flower God ever made. He can't be dead—he <i>must</i> not be dead. I—I - could not bear that. Do you hear me? Call me what you will for my - imprudent conduct with him, but don't admit that bare possibility for one - instant—even in your thoughts. Don't do it, I say!” - </p> - <p> - Pole gulped down his tense emotion. “I'll tell you what I'll do, little - sister,” he proposed. “Promise me you'll overlook what I said just now, - an' I'll work these here hands”—he held them up in the starlight—“to - the naked bone; I'll use this here brain”—he struck his broad brow - with a resounding slap—“till it withers in the endeavor to fetch 'im - back safe an' sound, ef you'll jest forgive me.” - </p> - <p> - “Forgive you!” She laughed harshly and tossed her head. “That's already - done. More than that, I want to tell you that I've always looked on you as - a brother. You made me love you a long time ago by your gentleness and - respect for women.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, little sister,” Pole cried, “I don't deserve that!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you do; but find him—find him, and bring him back.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, little sister; I'll do my best.” - </p> - <p> - He stood still and watched her hurry away through the darkness. - </p> - <p> - “Poor little trick,” he sighed. “I was countin' on that one thing to - explain Nelson's absence. Since it ain't that, what the hell is it, unless - he's been sandbagged down thar in Atlanta an' put out o' the way?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXVIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was quite dark - when Pole went into the cottage. There was a fire in the little - sitting-room, and by its light he could see his wife through the open door - of the next room as she quietly moved about. He paused in the door-way and - whispered: - </p> - <p> - “Are the childern asleep, Sally?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, an' tucked away.” She came to him with a cautious step, and looked - up into his face trustingly. “Little Billy kept askin' fer papa, papa, - papa! He said he jest wasn't goin' to sleep anywhar except in his own - place in yore lap.” - </p> - <p> - Pole went to the children's bed, looked down at the row of yellow heads - for a moment, then suddenly bent and took the eldest boy into his arms. - </p> - <p> - “You goose!” Mrs. Baker exclaimed. “I'm sorry I said what I did. You'll - spile 'im to death. Thar, I knowed he'd wake up! It's jest what you - wanted.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you want yore papa?” Pole said, in cooing tones of endearment. “Well, - Billy-boy, papa's got you, an' he ain't a-goin' to let no booger git you, - nuther. Thar now, go back to sleep.” And in a big arm-chair before the - fire Pole sat and rocked back and forth with the child's head on his - shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Whar've you been, papa?” Billy asked, sliding his arm around Pole's - rough, sunbrowned neck and pressing his face to his father's. - </p> - <p> - “To feed the hogs, Billy-boy.” - </p> - <p> - “But you never took so long before,” argued the child. - </p> - <p> - “I had to watch 'em eat, Billy-boy—eat, eat, eat, Billy-boy! They - hadn't had anything since mom-in' except roots, an' snags, an' pusley - weeds, an' it was a purty sight to watch 'em stick the'r snouts in that - slop. Now, go to sleep. Here we go—here we go—across the - bridge to Drowsy Town.” - </p> - <p> - In a moment the child was sleeping soundly and Pole bore him tenderly back - to bed. As he straightened up in the darkened room his wife was beside - him. - </p> - <p> - “I declare you are a <i>good</i> man,” she said—“the best-hearted, - tenderest man in the world, Pole Baker!” - </p> - <p> - He looked at her steadily for an instant, then he said: - </p> - <p> - “Sally, I want you to do me a special favor.” - </p> - <p> - “What is it, Pole?” Her voice was full of wonder. - </p> - <p> - “Sally, now don't laugh at me, but I want you to go put on a piece o' red - ribbon, an' let yore hair hang down yore back loose like you used to. Fix - it that away an' then come in to the fire.” - </p> - <p> - “Pole, yo're foolish!” Mrs. Baker was really pleased, and yet she saw no - reason for his whim. - </p> - <p> - “You do as I ax you, an' don't be long about it, nuther.” - </p> - <p> - He turned back into the firelight, and, watching him cautiously from the - adjoining room, Mrs. - </p> - <p> - Baker saw him straightening out his shirt and brushing his coarse hair. - Then, to her further surprise, she saw him take down his best coat from - its peg on the wall and put it on. This was followed by a dusting of his - rough shoes with a soiled, red handkerchief. In great wonder, Sally, with - her hair loose on her shoulders, looked into the room. - </p> - <p> - “You ain't in earnest about that—that red ribbon, are you, Pole?” - she faltered. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am,” he answered, without lifting his eyes from the fire. “I mean - exactly what I say.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, then, I'll do it, but I don't see a bit o' sense in it,” she - retorted. “It's about our bedtime, an' I know in reason that we ain't - a-goin' nowhar at this time o' night an' leave the childem by - the'r-selves.” - </p> - <p> - Still Pole did not look up. - </p> - <p> - “You go an' do as I tell you,” he repeated, a flush of growing - embarrassment on his face. - </p> - <p> - Presently Mrs. Baker came in, even redder and more confused than he. - </p> - <p> - “Pole, what in the name o' common-sense—” - </p> - <p> - But he was gallantly placing a chair for her in front of the fire near his - own. “Take a seat,” he said, bowing and motioning downward with his hands. - “When you stood in the door jest then, lookin' fer all the world like you - did away back in our courtin'-day, I come as nigh as peas callin' you - 'Miss Sally.' Gee whiz! It's Mrs. Baker now—ain't it? How quar that - sounds when a body looks back!” - </p> - <p> - “Pole,” she asked, as she sat down wonderingly, “are you goin' some'rs at - this time o' night?” - </p> - <p> - “No, it ain't that,” he said, awkwardly—“it ain't that, Sally. It - ain't meetin', nor singin'-school, nor a moonlight buggy-ride.'Tain't none - o' them old, old things.” Pole crossed his long legs and leaned back in - his chair. “I know in reason that you are a-goin' to laugh at me, an' say - I'm plumb crazy, but it's this away, Sally: some'n's jest happened that's - set me to thinkin', an' it occurred to me that I wasn't half thankful - enough to the Almighty fer all His many blessin's, an'—” - </p> - <p> - “Pole”—Mrs. Baker was misled as to his meaning—“somebody's - been talkin' religion to you. You want to begin holdin' family prayer - ag'in, I reckon. Now, looky' here, ef you do, I want you to keep it up. I - feel wuss ever'time you start in an' break off.” - </p> - <p> - “'Tain't that, nuther,” Pole said, eying the red chunks under the - fire-logs. “Sally, thar ortn't to be no secret betwixt man an' wife. I had - a talk with Cynthia Porter out at the hog-pen jest now about Nelson Floyd, - an' the way she talked an' acted worked on me powerful. Seein' the way she - feels about her sweetheart started me to thinkin' how awful I'd feel - without you. An' with that come the feelin' that, somehow—somehow or - other, Sally—me'n' you ain't jest pine-blank the way we used to be, - an' I believe thar's a screw loose. I'd liter'ly die ef I didn't have you, - an' I've been spittin' in the face o' Providence by the careless way I've - been actin'. Now, Sally, I want you jest to set right thar, an' let's - forget about them towheads in the next room, an' try an' forget all I've - made you suffer fust an' last, an' let's git back—let's git back, - Sally, to the old sweetheart-time. I know I'm tough, an' a sorry cuss - before God an' man, but I've got the same heart a-beatin' in me to-night - that was in me away back on Holly Creek. In this firelight you look as - plump an' rosy an' bright-eyed as you did then, an' with that red ribbon - at yore neck, an' yore hair down yore back, I feel—well, I feel like - gittin' down on my knees an' beggin' you, like I did that time, not to - take Jim Felton, but to give me a showin'. I wonder”—Pole's voice - broke, and he covered his mouth impulsively with his hand—“I wonder - ef it's too late to ax you to give me a chance to prove myself a good - husband an' a father to them thar childern.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Pole, stop!” Mrs. Baker cried out, as if in pain. “I won't let you - set thar an' run yorese'f down, when you are the best-hearted man in this - state. What is a little spree now an' then compared to the lot o' some - pore women that git kicked an' cuffed, with never a tender word from the'r - husbands. Pole, as the Lord is my judge, I kin honestly say that I—I - almost want you <i>jest like you are</i>. Some men don't drink, but they - hain't got yore heart an' gentle way, an' ef I had to take my choice over - an' over ag'in, I'd choose a man like you every time.” - </p> - <p> - She rose suddenly, and with a face full of pent-up emotion she left the - room. She returned in a moment. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I heard the baby wakin',” she said. - </p> - <p> - He caught her hand and pulled her gently down into her chair. “Yo're a - liar, Sally,” he said, huskily. “You know yo're a-lyin'. You went out to - wipe yore eyes. You didn't want me to see you cry.” - </p> - <p> - She made no denial, and he put his rough hand, with a reverent touch, on - her hair. - </p> - <p> - “It ain't quite as heavy as it was,” he said. “Nor so fluffy. I reckon - that's beca'se you keep it bound up so tight. When I fust tuck a shine to - you, you used to run about them old hills as wild as a deer, an' the wind - kept it tousled. Do you remember the day it got full o' cockleburs an' I - tried to git 'em out? La me! I was all of a tremble. The Lord knows I - never thought then that sech a sweet, scared, rosy little thing ud ever - keep house fer me an' cook my grub an' be a mother to my childern. I never - dreamt, then, that instead o' bein' grateful fer the blessin', I'd go off - weeks at a time an' lie in a gutter, leavin' you to walk the floor in - agony—sometimes with a nursin' baby an' not a scrap to eat. No, I - never—” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, Pole!” With a sob, half of joy, half of sadness, Mrs. Baker put her - hand over his mouth and pressed her face against his. “Hush, hush, hush!” - </p> - <p> - “But, thank God, I hope that day is over,” he said, taking her hand from - his lips. “I've passed through a great crisis, Sally. Some'n' you don't - know about—some'n' you may <i>never</i> know about—that - happened right here in these mountains, but it may prove to be my - turnin'-p'int.” - </p> - <p> - His wife looked uneasily at the fire. “It's gittin' late, Pole,” she said. - “We'd better go to bed.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXIX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE following - evening was balmy and moonlit. Hillhouse was at Porter's just after - supper, seated on the porch in conversation with Mrs. Porter. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I believe I'd not ask her to see you to-night,” she was advising - him. “The poor girl seems completely fagged out. She tries to do as much - about the house as usual, but it seems to tire her more. Then she doesn't - eat heartily, and I hear her constantly sighing.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I see,” Hillhouse said, despondently. “Yes,” the old woman pursued, - “I suppose if you finally get her to marry you, you'll have to put up with - the memory that she <i>did</i> have a young girl's fancy for that man, - Brother Hillhouse. But she wasn't the only one. The girls all liked him, - and he did show a preference for her.” - </p> - <p> - “Has she—has she heard the latest news—the very latest?” - Hillhouse asked, anxiously. “Has she heard the report that Henry A. Floyd - told Mr. Mayhew he had met Nelson and revealed that awful news about his - parentage?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes; Mrs. Snodgrass came in with that report this morning. She knew as - well as anything that Cynthia was excited, and yet she sat in the parlor - and went over and over the worst parts of it, watching the girl like a - hawk. Cynthia got up and left the room. She was white as death and looked - like she would faint. Mrs. Snodgrass hinted at deliberate suicide. She - declared a young man as proud and high-strung as Nelson Floyd would resort - to that the first thing. She said she wouldn't blame him one bit after all - he's suffered. Well, just think of it, Brother Hillhouse! Did you ever - hear of anybody being treated worse? He's been tossed and kicked about all - his life, constantly afraid that he wasn't quite as respectable as other - folks. And then all at once he was taken up and congratulated by the - wealth and blood around him on his high stand—and then finally had - to have this last discovery rammed in his face. Why, that's enough to - drive any proud spirit to desperation! I don't blame him for getting - drunk. I don't blame him, either, for not wanting to come back to be - snubbed by those folks. But what I <i>do</i> want is fer him not to drag - me and mine into his trouble. When my girl marries, I want her to marry - some man that will be good to her, and I want him to have decent social - standing. Even if Floyd's alive, if I can help it, Cynthia shall never - marry him—never!” - </p> - <p> - “Does Miss Cynthia believe,” ventured the preacher, “that Floyd has killed - himself?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't think she believes that, <i>quite</i>,” was Mrs. Porter's reply; - “but she doesn't seem to think he'll ever come back to Springtown. Don't - you worry, Brother Hillhouse. She'll get over this shock after a while, - and then she'll appreciate your worth and constancy. If I were you, I'd - not press my claim right now.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I wouldn't think of such a thing!” Hillhouse stroked a sort of - glowing resignation into his chin, upon which a two-days beard had made a - ragged appearance. “I've been awfully miserable, Sister Porter, but this - talk with you has raised my hopes.” Mrs. Porter rose with a faint smile. - “Now, you go home and write another good sermon like that last one. I - watched Cynthia out of the corner of my eye all through it. That idea of - its being our duty to bear our burdens cheerfully—no matter how - heavy they are—seemed to do her a lot of good.” The color came into - Hillhouse's thin face, and his eyes shone. “The sermon I have in mind for - next Sunday is on the same general line,” he said. “I'm glad she listened. - I was talking straight at her, Sister Porter. I'm not ashamed to admit it. - I've been unable to think of anything but her since—since Floyd - disappeared.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a good man, Brother Hillhouse”—Mrs. Porter was giving him - her hand—“and somehow I feel like you will get all you want, in due - time, remember—in due time.” - </p> - <p> - “God bless you, sister,” Hillhouse said, earnestly, and, pressing the old - woman's hand, he turned away. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Cynthia heard - the gate close behind the preacher, and from the window of her room had - seen him striding away, she put a shawl over her shoulder and started out. - </p> - <p> - “Where on earth are you going?” her mother asked from the end of the - porch, where she stood among the honeysuckle vines. - </p> - <p> - “I want to run across to Mrs. Baker's, just a minute,” Cynthia said. “I - won't be long. I'll come right back.” - </p> - <p> - “I'd think you'd be afraid to do that,” her mother protested, “with so - many stray negroes about. Besides, it's the Bakers' bedtime. Can't you - wait till to-morrow?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I want to walk, anyway,” said Cynthia. “I feel as if it will do me - good. I'm not afraid.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I sha'n't go to bed till you come back,” Mrs. Porter gave in. - </p> - <p> - In a few minutes the girl was at the back-yard fence of Pole Baker's - cottage. The door was open wide, and in the firelight Cynthia saw Mrs. - Baker bending over the dining-room table. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mrs. Baker!” the girl called, softly. - </p> - <p> - “Who's that? Oh, it's you, Cynthia!” and the older woman came out into the - moonlight, brushing her white apron with her hand. She leaned over the - fence. “Won't you come in?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I promised mother I'd be right back. I thought maybe you could tell - me if Mr. Baker had heard anything yet.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry to say he hain't,” replied the little woman, sadly. “Him and - Mr. Mayhew has been working all sorts of ways, and writing constant - letters to detectives and the mayors of different cities, but everything - has failed. He came in just now looking plumb downhearted.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia took a deep breath. Her lips quivered as if she had started to - speak and failed. - </p> - <p> - “But, la me! I haven't give up,” Mrs. Baker said, in a tone of forced - lightness. “He'll come home all safe and sound one of these days, Cynthia. - I have an idea that he's just mad at his ill-luck all round, and, right - now, doesn't care what folks about here think. He'll git over all that in - due time and come back and face his trouble like other men have done. It's - a bitter pill fer a proud young man to swallow, but a body kin git used to - most anything in time.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm afraid he's never coming home,” Cynthia said, in rigid calmness. “He - once told me if he ever had any great trouble he would be tempted to drink - again. Mr. Baker thinks he's been drinking, and in that condition there is - no telling what has happened to him.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, let me tell you some'n'—let me give you a piece of sound - advice,” said Mrs. Baker. “It's unaxed; but I'm a sufferin' woman, an' I'm - a-goin' to advise you as I see fit, ef you never speak to me ag'in. Ef - whiskey is keepin' Nelson Floyd away, an' he does come back an' wants to - marry you, don't you take 'im. Tear 'im from yore young heart 'fore the - roots o' yore love git too big an' strong to pull out. It may not be - whiskey that's keepin' 'im away. He may 'a' taken a dram or two at the - start an' be livin' sober somewhar now; or, then ag'in, as you say, - some'n' may 'a' happened to 'im; but, anyhow, don't you resk livin' with - 'im, not ef he has all the money on earth. Money won't stick to a drinkin' - man no longer than the effects of a dram, an' in the mind of sech a fellow - good intentions don't amount to no more than a swarm o' insects that are - born an' die in a day. Of course, some men <i>do</i> reform. I'm prayin' - right now that the awful thing that happened t'other night to Pole will be - his tumin'-p'int, but I dunno. I'll walk on thin ice over a lake o' fire - till I kin see furder. Be that as it may, Cynthia, I can't stand by an' - see another unsuspectin' woman start in on the road I've travelled—no, - siree!” - </p> - <p> - “I think you are exactly right,” Cynthia said, under her breath, and then - she sighed deeply. “Well, good-night. I must go.” She was turning away, - when Mrs. Baker called to her. - </p> - <p> - “Stop, Cynthia!” she said. “You ain't mad at me, are you?” - </p> - <p> - “Not a bit in the world,” Cynthia answered. “In fact, I'm grateful for - your advice. I may never have a choice in such a matter, but I know you - mean it for my own good.” - </p> - <p> - As Cynthia entered the gate at home, her mother rose from a chair on the - porch. “Now I can go to bed,” she remarked. “I have been awfully uneasy, - almost expecting to hear you scream out from that lonely meadow.” - </p> - <p> - “There was nothing to be afraid of, mother,” and Cynthia passed on to her - own room. She closed the door and lighted her lamp, and then took her - Bible from the top drawer of her bureau and sat down at her table and - began to read it. She read chapter after chapter mechanically, her - despondent eyes doing work which never reached her throbbing brain. - Presently she realized this and closed the book. Rising, she went to her - window and looked across the grass-grown triangle to her mother's window. - It was dark. All the other windows were so, too. The house was wrapped in - slumber. She heard the clock strike nine. Really she must go to bed, and - yet she knew she would not sleep, and the thought of the long, conscious - hours till daybreak caused her to shudder. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps twenty minutes had passed since the clock struck, when a sound - suddenly fell upon her ears that thrilled every muscle in her body. It was - the far-off call of a whippoorwill! Was it the cry of the real bird or an - imitation—<i>his</i> imitation? She stood like a thing of stone, - straining her ears for its repetition. There! There it was again, and - nearer, clearer, more appealing. Ah, no creature of mere feathers and - flesh could have uttered that tentative, soulful note! It was Nelson Floyd - alive!—alive and wanting her—her first of all! Standing before - her mirror, she tried to tie up her hair, which had fallen loose upon her - shoulders, but her hands refused to do their office. Without a second's - deliberation she sprang to her door, opened it, and ran on to the outer - one. Passing through this, she glided across the porch and softly sped - over the grass in the direction of the sound. She heard it again, in - startling shrillness, and then, in the clear moonlight, she saw Floyd - standing in front of the grape-arbor. As she drew near her heart stood - still at the sight of the change which had come on him. It lay like the - tracing of Death's pencil on his brow, in his emaciated features and - loosely fitting, soiled, and unpressed clothing. For the first time in her - life she yielded herself without resistance to his out-stretched arms. - With no effort to prevent it, she allowed him to press his lips to hers. - Childlike, and as if in fear of losing him again, she slid her arm round - his neck and drew him tightly to her. Neither uttered a word. Thus they - remained for a moment, and then he led her into the arbor and they sat - down together, his arm still about her body, her head on his breast. He - was first to speak. - </p> - <p> - “I was so afraid you'd not come,” he panted, as if he had been walking - fast. “Have you heard of my trouble?” he went on, his voice sounding - strange and altered. - </p> - <p> - She nodded on his breast, not wanting to see the pain she knew was - mirrored in his face. - </p> - <p> - “Oh no, surely you haven't—that is, not—not what I learned in - Atlanta about my—my mother and father?” - </p> - <p> - Again she nodded, pressing her brow upward against his chin in a mute - action of consolation and sympathy. - </p> - <p> - He sighed. “I didn't think anybody knew that,” he said. “That is, anybody - up here.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Mayhew went down and saw your uncle,” Cynthia found voice to say, - finally. - </p> - <p> - “Don't call him my uncle—he's not that, except as hell gives men - relatives. But I don't want to speak of him. The memory of his ashy face, - glittering eyes, and triumphant tone as he hurled those facts at me is - like a horrible nightmare. I'm not here to deny a thing, little girl. I - came to let you see me just as I am. I fell very low. No one knows I'm - here. I passed through Darley without meeting a soul I knew and walked all - the way here, dodging off the road when I heard the sound of hoofs or - wheels. I've come to you, Cynthia—only you. You are the only one out - of this part of my life that I ever want to see again. I am not going to - hide anything. After that revelation in Atlanta I sank as low as a brute. - I drank and lost my head. I spent several days in New Orleans more like a - demon than a human being—among gamblers, thieves, and cutthroats. - Two of my companions confessed to me that they were escaped convicts put - in for murder. I went on to Havana and came back again to New Orleans. - Yesterday I reached Atlanta. I learned that the police had been trying to - find me, and hid out. Last night, Cynthia, I was drunk again; but this - morning I woke up with a longing to throw it all off, to be a man once - more, and while I was thinking about it a thought came to me like a flash - of light from heaven thrown clear across the black waste of hell. The - thought came to me that, although I am a nobody (that name has never - passed my lips since I learned it was not my own)—the thought came - to me, I say, that there was one single and only chance for me to return - to manhood and obtain earthly happiness. Do you follow me, dearest?” - </p> - <p> - She raised her head and looked into his great, staring eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Not quite, Nelson,” she said, softly. “Not quite.” - </p> - <p> - “You see, I recalled that you, too, are not happy here at home, and, as in - my case, through no fault of your own—no fault, except being born - different from others around you. I remembered all you'd told me about - your mother's suspicious, exacting nature, and how hard you worked at - home, and how little real joy you got out of life, and then it came to me - that we both had as much right to happiness as any one else—you for - your hard life and I for all that I'd suffered. So I stopped drinking. I - have not touched a drop to-day, although a doctor down there said I really - needed a stimulant. You can see how nervous I am. I shake all over. But I - am stimulated by hope—that's it, Cynthia—hope! I've come to - tell you that you can make a man of me—that you have it in your - power to blot out all my trouble.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't see how, Nelson.” Cynthia raised her head and looked into his - shadowy face wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - “I've come here to ask you to leave this spot with me forever. I've got - unlimited means. Even since I've been away my iron lands in Alabama and - coal lands in Tennessee have sprung up marvellously in value. This - business here at the store is a mere trifle compared to other investments - of mine. We could go far away where no one knows of my misfortune, and, - hand-in-hand, make us a new home and new friends. Oh, Cynthia, that holds - out such dazzling promise to me that, honestly, all the other fades away - in contrast to it. Just to think, you'll be all mine, all mine—alone - with me in the wide, wide world! I have no legal name to give you, it's - true, but”—he laughed harshly—“we could put our heads together - and pick a pretty one, and call ourselves by it. I once knew a man who was - a foundling, and because they picked him up early in the morning he was - called 'Early.' That wouldn't sound bad, would it? Mr. and Mrs. Early, - from nowhere, but nice, good people. What do you say, little girl? It all - rests with you now. You are to decide whether I rise or sink back again, - for God knows I don't see how I could possibly give you up. I have not - acted right with you all along in not declaring my love sooner, but I - hardly knew my mind. It was not till that night at the mill that I began - to realize how dear you were to me, but it was such a wonderful awakening - that I did not speak of it as I should. But why don't you say something, - Cynthia? Surely you don't love any one else—” - </p> - <p> - She drew herself quite from his embrace, but, still clasping one of his - hands like an eager child, she said: - </p> - <p> - “Nelson, I don't believe I'm foolish and impetuous like some girls I know. - You are asking me to take the most important step in a woman's life, and I - cannot decide hastily. You have been drinking, Nelson, you acknowledge - that frankly. In fact, I would have known it anyway, for you are not like - you used to be—even your voice has altered. Nelson, a man who will - give way to whiskey even in great trouble is not absolutely a safe man. - I'm unhappy, I'll admit it. I've suffered since you disappeared as I never - dreamed a woman could suffer, and yet—and yet what you propose seems - a very imprudent thing to do. When did you want me to leave?” - </p> - <p> - “A week from to-night,” he said. “I can have everything ready by then and - will bring a horse and buggy. I'll leave them down below the orchard and - meet you right here. I'll whistle in the old way, and you must come to me. - For God's sake don't refuse. I promise to grant any request you make. Not - a single earthly wish of yours shall ever go unsatisfied. I <i>know</i> I - can make you happy.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia was silent for a moment. She drew her hand from his clasp. “I'll - promise this much,” she said, in a low, firm voice. “I'll promise to bring - my decision here next Friday night. If I decide to go, I suppose I'd - better pack—” - </p> - <p> - “Only a very few things,” he interposed. “We shall stop in New Orleans and - you can get all you want. Oh, little girl, think of my sheer delight over - seeing you fairly loaded down with the beautiful things you ought always - to have had, and noting the wonder of everybody over your rare beauty of - face and form, and to know that you are all mine, that you gave up - everything for a nameless man! You will not go back on me, dearest? You - won't do it, after all I've been through?” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia was silent after this burst of feeling, and he put his arm around - her and drew her, slightly resisting, into his embrace. - </p> - <p> - “What is troubling you, darling?” he asked, tenderly. - </p> - <p> - “I'm worried about your drinking,” she faltered. “I've seen more misery - come from that habit than anything else in the world.” - </p> - <p> - “But I swear to you that not another drop shall ever pass my lips,” he - said. “Why, darling, even with no promise to you to hold me back, I - voluntarily did without it to-day, when right now my whole system is - crying out for it and almost driving me mad. If I could do that of my own - accord, don't you see I could let it alone forever for your sake?” - </p> - <p> - “But”—Cynthia raised her eyes to his—“between now and—and - next Friday night, will you—” - </p> - <p> - “I shall be as sober as a judge when I come,” he laughed, absorbing hope - from her question. “I shall come to you with the clearest head I ever had—the - clearest head and the lightest heart, little girl, for we are going out - together into a great, mysterious, dazzling world. You will not refuse me? - You are sent to me to repay me for all I've been through. That's the way - Providence acts. It brings us through misery and shadows out into joy and - light. My shadows have been dark, but my light—great God, did mortal - ever enter light such as ours will be!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll decide by next Friday night,” Cynthia said; “that's all I can - promise now. It is a most important matter and I shall give it a great - deal of thought. I see the way you look at it.” - </p> - <p> - “But, Cynthia,” he cautioned her, “don't tell a soul that I've been here. - They think I'm dead; let them continue to do so. Friday night just leave a - note saying that you have gone off with me and that you will write the - particulars later. But we won't write till we have put a good many miles - behind us. Your mother' will raise a lot of fuss, but we can't help that.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall not mention it to any one,” the girl agreed, and she rose and - stood before him, half turned to go. - </p> - <p> - “Then kiss me, dearest,” he pleaded, seizing her hands and holding them - tight—“kiss me of your own accord; you know you never have done - that, not even once, since I've known you.” - </p> - <p> - “No; don't ask me to do that,” she said, firmly, “for that would be - absolute consent, and I tell you, Nelson, frankly, I have not yet fully - decided. You must not build on it too much.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don't talk that way, darling. Don't let me carry a horrible doubt for - a whole week. Do say something that will keep up my hopes.” - </p> - <p> - “All I can say is that I'll decide by Friday night,” she repeated. “And if - I go I shall be ready. Good-night, Nelson; I can't stay out longer.” He - walked with her as far as he could safely do so in the direction of the - farm-house, and then they parted without further words. - </p> - <p> - “She'll go—the dear little thing,” he said to himself, - enthusiastically, as he walked through the orchard. When he had climbed - over the fence he paused, looked back, and shrugged his shoulders. An - unpleasant thrill passed over him. It was the very spot on which he had - met Pole Baker that night and had been so soundly reprimanded for his - indiscretion in quitting Nathan Porter's premises in such a stealthy - manner. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly Floyd pressed his hand to his waistcoat-pocket and drew out a - tiny object that glittered in the moonlight. “The engagement ring!” he - exclaimed, in a tone of deep disappointment; “and I forgot to give it to - her. What a fool I was, when she's never had a diamond in her life! Well”—he - looked hesitatingly towards the farm-house—“it wouldn't do to call - her back now. I'll keep it till Friday night. Like an idiot, I forgot, - too, in my excitement, to tell her where we are to be married—that - is, if she will go; but she won't desert me—I can trust her. She - will be my wife—<i>my wife!</i>” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXXI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE next morning, - after breakfast, Mrs. Porter told her husband to harness the horse and - hitch him to the buggy. “I've got some butter ready to sell,” she - explained, “and some few things to buy.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll gain lots by it,” Nathan sneered, as he reluctantly proceeded to - do her bidding. “In the fust place it will take yore time fer half a day, - the hoss's time fer half a day, an' the wear an' tear on the buggy will - amount to more than all you git fer the butter. But that's the way women - calculate. They can't see an inch 'fore the'r noses.” - </p> - <p> - “I can see far enough before mine to hear you grumbling at dinner about - the coffee being out,” she threw back at him; “something you, with all - your foresight, forgot yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh, I reckon the old lady did hit me that pop!” Nathan admitted to - himself as he walked away. “Fust thing I know I'll not be able to open my - mouth—women are gittin' so dern quick on the trigger—an', by - gum, I <i>did</i> forgit that coffee, as necessary as the stuff is to my - comfort.” - </p> - <p> - When Porter brought the horse and buggy around a few minutes later his - wife was ready on the porch with her pail of neatly packed butter. Cynthia - came to the door, but her mother only glanced at her coldly as she took up - her pail and climbed into the vehicle and grasped the reins. - </p> - <p> - Reaching Mayhew & Floyd's store, she went in and showed the butter to - Joe Peters, who stood behind one of the counters. - </p> - <p> - “I want eighteen cents a pound,” she said. “If towns-people won't pay it, - they can't eat <i>my</i> butter. Butter for less than that is white and - puffy and full of whey.” - </p> - <p> - “What did you want in exchange for it, Mrs. Porter?” the clerk asked. “In - trade, you know, we do better than for cash.” - </p> - <p> - “I want its worth in coffee,” she said, “that's all.” - </p> - <p> - “We'll take it, then, and be glad to get it,” Peters said, and he put the - firm, yellow lumps on the scales, made a calculation with a pencil on a - piece of wrapping-paper, and began to put up the coffee. Meanwhile, she - looked about her. Mayhew sat at a table in the rear. The light from a - window beyond him, falling on his gray head, made it look like a bunch of - cotton. - </p> - <p> - “I reckon he's keeping his own books now that Nelson Floyd's away?” she - said, interrogatively, to the busy clerk. - </p> - <p> - “A body mought call it book-keepin',” Peters laughed, “but it's all I can - do to make out his scratchin'. He writes an awful fist. The truth is, we - are terribly upset by Floyd's absence, Mrs. Porter. His friends—folks - that like 'im—come fer forty miles, clean across the Tennessee line, - to trade with him, and when they don't see him about they go on with empty - wagons to Darley. It's mighty nigh runnin' the old man crazy. He sees now - who was butterin' his bread. Ef Nelson was to come back now the old cuss - 'ud dress 'im out in purple an' fine linen an' keep 'im in a glass case.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you expect Floyd to come back?” Mrs. Porter was putting the damp - napkin back into her empty pail. Indifference lay in her face and voice - but had not reached her nervous fingers. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Porter”—Peters spoke lower. He came around the counter and - joined her on the threshold of the door—“I'm a-goin' to let you on - to some'n' that I'm afeard to tell even the old man. The Lord knows I - wouldn't have Mrs. Snodgrass an' her team git hold of it fer the world. - You see, ef I was to talk too much I mought lose my job. Anyway, I don't - want to express an opinion jest on bare suspicion, but I know you've got a - silent tongue in yore head, an' I think I know, too, why yo're interested, - an' I'm in sympathy with you an'—an' Miss—an' with all - concerned, Mrs. Porter.” - </p> - <p> - “You said you were going to tell me something,” the old woman reminded - him, her glance on the court-house across the street, her voice tense, - probing, and somewhat resentful of his untactful reference to Cynthia. - </p> - <p> - “I'm a-goin' to tell you this much,” said Peters, “but it's in strict - confidence, Mrs. Porter. Thar has been a lot o' letters fer Floyd on all - sorts o' business affairs accumulatin' here. Mayhew's been openin' 'em all - an' keepin' 'em in a stack in a certain pigeon-hole of the desk. Now, I - seed them letters thar jest last night when I closed the store, an' this - mornin' early, when I opened up an' was sweepin' out, I missed 'em.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I see!” exclaimed Mrs. Porter, impulsively. “Well, ef you do, you see - more'n me,” Peters went on, “fer I don't know how it happened. It's - bothered me all day. You see, I can't talk to the old man about it, fer - maybe he come down here some time last night an' got 'em fer some purpose - or other. An' then ag'in—well, thar is jest three keys to the house, - Mrs. Porter, the one the old man has, the one I tote, an' the one Nelson - Floyd tuck off with 'im.” - </p> - <p> - “So you have an idea that maybe—” - </p> - <p> - “I hain't no idea about it, I tell you, Mrs. Porter, unless—unless - Nelson Floyd come back here last night an' come in the store an' got his - mail.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you think he may be back?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know that he is, you understand, but I'm a-goin' to hope that he - ain't dead, Mrs. Porter. Ef thar ever was a man I loved—that is to - say, downright <i>loved</i>—it was Nelson Floyd. La me! I could - stand here from now till sundown an' not git through tellin' you the - things he's done in my behalf. You remember—jest to mention one—that - mother had to be tuck to Atlanta to Dr. Winston to have a cancer cut out. - Well, she had no means, an' I didn't, an' we was in an awful plight—her - jest cryin' an' takin' on day an' night in the fear o' death. Well, Nelson - got onto it. He drawed me off behind the store one day—as white as a - sheet, bless your soul! fer it mighty nigh scared the boy to death to be - ketched at his good acts—an' he up an' told me he was goin' to pay - the whole bill, but that I mustn't tell nobody, an' I wouldn't tell you - now ef mean reports wasn't out agin 'im. I hardly knowed what to do, fer I - didn't want to be beholden to 'im to sech a great extent, but he made me - take the money, an', as you know, mother got well ag'in. Then what did he - do but raise my wages away up higher than any clerk in this part o' the - state gits. That mighty nigh caused a split betwixt him an' the old man, - but Nelson had his way. I tried to pay some on the debt, but he wouldn't - take it. He wouldn't even let me give 'im my note; he'd always laugh an' - turn it off, an' of late it sorter made 'im mad, an' I simply had to quit - talkin' about it.” - </p> - <p> - “He had his good side.” Mrs. Porter yielded the point significantly. “I - never denied that. But a man that does good deeds half the time and bad - half the time gets a chance to do a sort of evil that men with worse - reputations don't run across.” Mrs. Porter moved away towards her buggy, - and then she came back, and, looking him straight in the eye, she said, “I - hardly think, Joe, the fact that those letters are missing proves that - Nelson Floyd was here last night.” - </p> - <p> - “You don't think so, Mrs. Porter?” Peters' face fell. - </p> - <p> - “No; Mr. Mayhew no doubt took them to look over. I understand he and Pole - Baker are trying to get track of Floyd. You see, they may have hoped to - get some clew from the letters.” - </p> - <p> - “That's a fact, Mrs. Porter,” and, grown quite thoughtful, the clerk was - silent as he helped her into her buggy. - </p> - <p> - “Huh!” she said to herself, as she started off. - </p> - <p> - “Floyd's done a lot o' good deeds, has he? I've known men to act like - angels to set their consciences at rest after conduct that would make the - bad place itself turn pink in shame. I know your kind, Nelson Floyd, and a - little of you goes a long way.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXXII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. PORTER drove - down the village street between the rows of scattered houses till she - arrived at a modest cottage with a white paling fence in front and a few - stunted flowers. Here she alighted. There was a hitching-post, with an old - horseshoe nailed near the top for a hook, and, throwing the reins over it, - she went into the yard. Some one came to a window and parted the curtains. - It was Hillhouse. He turned and stepped quickly to the door, a startled - expression of inquiry on his face. - </p> - <p> - “Come in, come in,” he said. “Really, I wasn't looking for anybody to drop - in so early in the day; and this is the first time you've ever called, - Sister Porter.” - </p> - <p> - With a cold nod she walked past him into the little white-walled, - carpetless hall. - </p> - <p> - “You've got a parlor, haven't you?” she asked, cautiously looking around. - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes; excuse me,” he stammered, and he awkwardly opened a door on the - right. “Walk in, walk in. I'm awfully rattled this morning. Seeing you so - sudden made me—” - </p> - <p> - “I hope the Marshall family across the street weren't watching as I got - out,” she broke in, as she preceded him into the parlor. “People talk so - much here, and I wanted to see you privately. Let a woman with a grown - daughter go to an unmarried preacher's house and you never hear the last - of it.” - </p> - <p> - She sat down in a rocking-chair and looked about her, he thought, with an - expression of subdued excitement. The room was most simply furnished. On - the floor lay a rag carpet, with rugs of the same material. A cottage - organ stood in one corner, and a round, marble-topped table in the centre - of the room held a lamp and a plush-covered album. On the white walls hung - family portraits, black-and-white enlarged photographs. The window looking - towards the street had a green shade and white, stiffly starched lace - curtains.. - </p> - <p> - “Your mother and sister—are they in the house?” Mrs. Porter asked. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he answered, standing in front of her. “They went over to McGill's - as soon as breakfast was finished. You know their little boy got kicked by - a mule yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I heard so, and I'm glad they are not here—though you'd better - tell them I came. If you don't, and the Marshalls happen to mention it to - them, they might think it strange.” - </p> - <p> - “You wanted to see me alone, then?” Hillhouse put out his stiff, tentative - hand and drew a chair to him and sat down in it. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I'm in trouble—great, great trouble,” the old woman said, her - steely glance on his face; “and to tell you the truth, I don't see how I'm - going to get around it. I couldn't mention it to any one else but you, not - even Nathan nor mother. In fact, you ought to know, for it's bound to - worry you, too.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Sister Porter, what is it? Don't keep me waiting. I knew you were in - some trouble when I saw your face as you came in at the gate. Is it about—” - </p> - <p> - “Of course it's about Cynthia,” sighed the woman—“about her and - Nelson Floyd.” - </p> - <p> - “He's dead, and she—” Hillhouse began, but Mrs. Porter stopped him. - </p> - <p> - “No, that isn't it,” she went on. “He's alive. He's back here.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, is that so?” Hillhouse leaned forward, his face white, his thin lips - quivering. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I'll tell you about it,” went on Mrs. Porter. “Of late I've been - unable to sleep for thinking of Cynthia and her actions, she's seemed so - reckless and despondent, and last night I left my bed and started to creep - in and see if she was asleep. I had on soft slippers and made no noise, - and had just got to the end of the hall, when her door opened and she went - out at the front.” - </p> - <p> - “Gone? Oh, don't—don't tell me that, Mrs. Porter!” - </p> - <p> - “No, not that, quite; but wait till I am through,” Mrs. Porter said, her - tone hard and crisp. “When I got to the porch I saw her just disappearing - in the orchard. And then I heard somebody whistling like a whippoorwill. - It was Nelson Floyd. He was standing at the grape-arbor, and the two met - there. They went inside and sat down, and then, as there was a thick row - of rose-bushes between the house and the arbor, I slipped up behind it. I - crouched down low till I was almost flat on the ground. I heard every word - that passed between them.” - </p> - <p> - Hillhouse said nothing. The veins in his forehead stood out full and dark. - Drops of perspiration, the dew of mental agony, appeared on his cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “Don't form hasty judgment,” Mrs. Porter said. “If I ever doubted, or - feared my child's weakness on that man's account, I don't now. She's as - good and pure as the day she was born. In fact, I don't believe she would - have gone out to meet him that way if she hadn't been nearly crazy over - the uncertainty as to what had happened to him. I don't blame her; I'd - have done it myself if I'd cared as much for a man as she does about him—or - thinks she does.” - </p> - <p> - “You say you heard what passed?” Hillhouse panted. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and never since I was born have I heard such stuff as he poured into - that poor child's ears. As I listened to his talk, one instant my heart - would bleed with sympathy and the next I'd want to grab him by the throat - and strangle him. He was all hell and all heaven's angels bound up in one - human shape to entrap one frail human being. He went over all his - suffering from babyhood up, saying he had had as much put on him as he - could stand. He had come back by stealth and didn't want a soul but her to - know he was here; he didn't intend ever to face the sneers of these folks - and let them throw up his mother's sin to him. He'd been on a long and - terrible debauch, but had sobered up and promised to stay that way if she - would run away with him to some far-off place where no soul would ever - know his history. He had no end of funds, he said; he'd made money on - investments outside of Springtown, and he promised to gratify every wish - of hers. She was to have the finest and best in the land, and get away - from a miserable existence under my roof. Oh, I hate him—poisoning - her mind against the mother who nursed her!” - </p> - <p> - “He wanted her to elope!” gasped Hillhouse—“to elope with a man just - off of a long drunk and with a record like that behind him—<i>her</i>, - that beautiful, patient child! But what did she say?” - </p> - <p> - “At first she refused to go, as well as I could make out, and then she - told him she would have to think over it. He is to meet her at the same - place next Friday night, and if she decides to go between now and then she - will be ready.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank God, we've discovered it ahead of time!” Hillhouse said, fervently, - and he got up, and, with his head hanging low and his bony hands clutched - behind him over the tails of his long, black coat, he walked back and - forth from the window to the door. “I tell you, Sister Porter,” he almost - sobbed, “I can't give her up to him. I can't, I tell you. It isn't in me. - I'd die rather than have her go off with him.” - </p> - <p> - “So would I—so would I, fearin' what I <i>now</i> do,” Mrs. Porter - said, without looking at him. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Fearing what you now do?</i>” Hillhouse paused in front of her. - </p> - <p> - “That's what I said.” The old woman raised her eyes to his. Hillhouse sank - down into his chair, nursing a new-born alarm in his lap. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean, Sister Porter?” he asked, in a low tone. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I mean that I never heard any thoroughly rational man on earth talk - just as Floyd did last night. I may be away off. I may be wronging him - badly, but not once in all his tirade did he say <i>right in so many words</i> - that he meant actually to marry her.” - </p> - <p> - “Great God, the damnable wretch!” Hillhouse sprang again to his feet. Mrs. - Porter put out her hand and caught his arm and drew him down to his chair - again. - </p> - <p> - “Don't decide hastily,” she urged him. “I laid awake all night trying to - get it clear in my head. He had lots to say about the awful way the world - had treated him, and that he felt, having no name, that he was unworthy of - anybody as sweet and good as she was, but that if she would go off with - him he'd feel that she had sacrificed everything for him and that that - would recompense him for all he had lost. He even said that Providence - sometimes worked that way, giving people a lot to bear at first, and then - lifting them out of it all of a sudden.” - </p> - <p> - Hillhouse leaned forward till his elbows rested on his knees and he - covered his ghastly face with his hands. For a moment he was silent. Mrs. - Porter could hear him breathing heavily. Suddenly he looked at her from - eyes that were almost bloodshot. - </p> - <p> - “<i>I</i> understand him,” he declared. “He fell into a drunkard's hell, - feeling that he was justified in such a course by his ill-luck, and now he - has deliberately persuaded himself that both he and she would be justified - in defying social customs—being a law unto themselves as it were. It - is just the sort of thing a man of his erratic character would think of, - and the damnable temptation is so dazzling that he is trying to make - himself believe they have a right to it.” - </p> - <p> - “Really, that was what I was afraid of,” said Mrs. Porter, with a soft - groan. “I heard him tell her that he would never be called by the name of - Floyd again. Surely, a man has to have a name of some sort to get legally - married, doesn't he?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course he has,” said Hillhouse. “But, my God, Sister Porter, what are - you going to do?” - </p> - <p> - “That's the trouble,” answered the old woman. “I understand Cynthia well - enough to know that she will not be coerced in the matter. She is going to - think it all over, and if she decides to go with him no power on earth - will stop her. She looks already better satisfied. The only thing I can - see is for me to try to stir up her sympathies in some way. She's - tender-hearted; she'd hate to be the cause of my suffering. We must work - together, and in secret, Brother Hillhouse. - </p> - <p> - “Work together, but how?” the preacher groaned. “I can't think of a thing - to do. If I appealed to her on the score of my love for her she would only - balance that off by his, and all she imagines the scoundrel suffers.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, his trouble is <i>real</i> enough,” Mrs. Porter declared. “I tell you - that in spite of my hatred for him, and even in spite of his cowardly - insinuations against me ringing in my ears last night, I felt sorry for - him. It would pierce a heart of stone to hear him talk as he did to her. - If she resists, she will be a stronger woman than I would have been at her - age and under the same circumstances. Pshaw! what would I have cared if - I'd loved a man with all my heart and fate had deprived him of a name to - give me—what would I have cared for the opinions of a little handful - of people pent up here in the mountains when he was asking me to go with - him out into the wide world and take my chances along with him? I don't - know, Brother Hillhouse, but that I'd have gloried in the opportunity to - say I was no better than he was. That's the way most women would look at - it; that's the way, I'm afraid, <i>she</i> will look at it.” - </p> - <p> - The preacher turned upon her, cold fury snapping in his eyes and voice. - “You talk that way—<i>you!</i>” he snarled—“and you her - mother! You are almost arguing that because <i>his</i> father and mother - branded him as they did that he and Cynthia have a right to—to brand - their—their own helpless offspring the same way. Sin can't be - compromised with.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you are right. I wasn't looking far enough ahead,” Mrs. Porter - acknowledged. “No, we must save her. Heaven could not possibly bless such - a step as that. I want her to hear somebody talk on that line. Say, - Brother Hillhouse, if I can get her to come to church to-morrow, could you - not, in a roundabout way, touch on that idea?” - </p> - <p> - “God knows I am willing to try anything—anything!” the minister - said, despondently. “Yes, bring her, if she will come. She seems to listen - to me. I'll do my best.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll bring her,” Mrs. Sorter promised. “Good-morning. I'd better - get back. They will wonder what's keeping me.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXXIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>OR midsummer, the - next morning was clear and cool. Nathan Porter rolled the family - spring-wagon down to the creek and washed off the wheels and greased the - axles. - </p> - <p> - “Your pa's getting ready to drive us to church, Cynthia,” Mrs. Porter - adroitly said to the girl as she was removing the dishes from the table in - the diningroom. “I wish you'd go with me. I hate to sit there with just - your pa.” - </p> - <p> - There was an instant's hesitation visible in Cynthia's sudden pause in her - work and the startled lift of her eyebrows. Then she said: - </p> - <p> - “All right, mother, if you want me to, I'll go.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, go get out your white muslin and flowered hat. They become - you more than anything you wear.” - </p> - <p> - Without further words Cynthia left the room, and Mrs. Porter walked out - into the hall and stood in the front door-way. - </p> - <p> - “Somehow, I imagine,” she mused, “that she was thinking it would be her - last time at our church. I don't know what makes me think so, but she had - exactly that look in her face. I do wish I could go in and tell mother all - about it, but she's too old and childish to act with caution. I can't go - to Nathan, either, for he'd laugh at me; he'd not only do that, but he'd - tell it all over the country and drive Cynthia to meet Floyd ahead of - time. No, no; I must do the best I can with Mr. Hillhouse's help. He loves - her; he'd make her a good, safe husband, too, while that dare-devil would - most likely tire of her in a short time, and take to drinking and leave - her high and dry in some far-off place. No, Floyd won't do to risk.” - </p> - <p> - The service was not well attended that morning, owing to a revival in - progress at Darley. Reports of the good music and high religious - excitement had drawn away a goodly number of Hillhouse's parishioners. - But, considering the odd nature of the discourse he had planned, this was - perhaps in the young preacher's favor. Indeed, as he sat in his - high-backed chair behind the little wooden stand, which held a ponderous - open Bible, a glass pitcher of water, and a tumbler, Mrs. Porter, as she - and Cynthia entered and took their usual places, thought he looked as if - he had not slept the preceding night. His skin was yellow, his hair stood - awry, and his eyes had a queer, shifting expression. Had his wily old ally - doubted that he intended to fulfil his promise to publicly touch on the - matter so near to them both, she could do so no longer after he had risen - and stood unconsciously swaying from side to side, as he made some formal - announcements in harsh, rigid tones. Indeed, he had the appearance of a - man who could have talked of only one thing, thought of only one thing, - that to which his whole being was nailed. His subject was that of the sins - of the fathers being visited upon their children, even to the third and - fourth generations. And Mrs. Porter shrank guiltily as his almost - desperate voice rang out in the still room How was it possible for those - around not to suspect—to know—that she had instigated the - sermon and brought her unsuspecting child there to be swerved by it from - the dangerous course she was pursuing? In former sermons Hillhouse had - unfailingly allowed his glance to rest on Cynthia's face, but on this - occasion he looked everywhere but at her. As he proceeded, he seemed to - take on confidence in his theme; his tone rose high, clear, and firm, and - quivered in the sheer audacity of his aim. He showed, from that lesson, - the serious responsibility resting on each individual—each - prospective mother and father. Then, all at once, it dawned on the - congregation that Floyd's misfortune had inspired the discourse, and each - man and woman bent breathlessly forward that they might not lose a word. - The picture was now most clear to their intelligences. And seeing that - they understood, and were sympathetically following him, Hillhouse swept - on, the bit of restraint between his clinched teeth, to direct, personal - reference. - </p> - <p> - “We can take it home to ourselves, brothers and sisters,” he went on, - passionately. “Even in our own humble, uneventful lives here in the - mountains, out of the great current of worldliness that flows through the - densely populated portions of our land, we have seen a terrible result of - this failure of man to do his duty to his posterity. Right here in our - midst the hand of God has fallen so heavily that the bright hopes of - sterling youth are crushed out completely. There was here among us a fine - specimen of mental and physical manhood, a young soul full of hope and - ambition. There was not a ripple on the calm surface of that life, not a - cloud in the clear sky of its future, when, without warning, the shadow of - God's hand spread over it. The awful past was unrolled—one man and - woman, for selfish, personal desires, were at the root of it all. Some - shallow thinkers claim that there is no hell, neither spiritual nor - material. To convince such individuals I would point the scornful finger - of proof to the agony of that young man. Are they—that selfish - couple—enjoying the bliss of the redeemed and he, the helpless - product of their sin, suffering as you know he must be suffering? In this - case the tangible and visible must establish the verity of the vague and - invisible. They are paying the debt—somewhere, somehow—you may - count on that.” Mrs. Porter, with bated breath, eyed Cynthia askance. To - her astonishment a flush had risen into the girl's cheeks, and there was - in her steady eye something like the thin-spread tear of deep and - glorified emotion, as she sat with tightly clasped hands, her breast - tumultuously heaving. The house was very still, so still that the rustling - of the leaves in the trees near the open windows now and then swept like - the soft sighing of grief-stricken nature through the room. Hillhouse, a - baffled, almost hunted look on his gaunt face, paused to take a sup of - water, and for one instant his eyes met Cynthia's as he wiped his mouth on - his handkerchief and with trembling hands returned it to his pocket. Mrs. - Porter was conscious of the impression that he had not quite carried the - subject to its logical climax, and was wondering how it had happened, when - Hillhouse almost abruptly closed his discourse. He sat down, as if crushed - by the weight of defeat, and looked steadily and despondently at the - floor, while the congregation stood and sang the doxology. Then he rose - and, with hands out-stretched as stiffly as those of a wired skeleton, he - pronounced the benediction. - </p> - <p> - As they were turning to leave, Cynthia and her mother faced old Nathan, - who stood waiting for them. - </p> - <p> - “Hillhouse don't look one bit well to-day,” he observed, as they were - going out. “I'll bet he's been eatin' some o' the fool stuff women an' - gals has been concoctin' to bewitch 'im with. They say the shortest road - to a man's heart is through his stomach—it's the quickest route to a - man's grave, too, I'm here to state to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, do hush!” Mrs. Porter exclaimed, her mind on something foreign to - Nathan's comment. “You two walk on; I'm going to shake hands with Brother - Hillhouse and ask about his mother.” - </p> - <p> - She fell back behind the crowd surging through the door, and waited for - the preacher to come down the aisle to her. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn't see exactly what you were driving at,” she said, extending her - hand. “I never heard finer argument or argument put in better language - than what you said, but it seemed to me you left off something.” - </p> - <p> - “I <i>did</i>,” he said, desperately. “I was going to end up with the evil - tendencies he had inherited from his parents, and the pitfalls such a man - would lead others into, but I couldn't drive my tongue to it. I had gone - too far in dilating on his wrongs for that, and then I caught sight of - Cynthia's face. I read it. I read through it down into the depths of her - soul. What I was saying was only making her glory in the prospect of - self-sacrifice in his behalf. When I saw that—when I realized that - it will take a miracle of God to snatch her from him, I felt everything - swimming about me. Her flushed face, her sparkling, piercing eyes, drove - me wild. I started in to attack him behind his back and was foiled in the - effort. But I won't give up. I can't lose her—I <i>can't</i>, I tell - you! She was made for me. I was made for her, and she would realize it if - this devil's dream would pass.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter sighed. “I don't know what to do,” she declared. “If I could - trust him, I'd give in, but I can't. I can't let my only child go off with - any man of his stamp, on those conditions. But I must run on—they - are waiting for me. She must never suspect that this was done for her - benefit.” - </p> - <p> - It was the afternoon of the day set for the meeting between Cynthia and - Floyd. Mrs. Porter, still carrying her weighty secret, went into town - actuated by nothing but the hope that she might accidentally meet - Hillhouse. He seemed to be on the lookout for her, for he came down the - street from the village square and waited for her to join him near the - hitching-rack and public trough for the watering of horses. - </p> - <p> - “I was on the way to see you,” she said, looking about her cautiously, as - if averse to being seen in his company. - </p> - <p> - “In answer to my prayer,” he replied. “I'm suffering great agony, Sister - Porter.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you are not any worse off than I am,” she made answer. “She's my - only child.” - </p> - <p> - He leaned towards her till his face was close to her own. “Something must - be done,” he said. “I'm ready for anything. I can't bear it any longer. - Last night the devil rose in me and conquered me. I was ready to kill - him.” - </p> - <p> - “And after all those beautiful things”—Mrs. Porter smiled calmly—“that - you said about him in your sermon.” - </p> - <p> - “The feeling didn't last long,” Hillhouse said, gloomily. “It swept - through me like a storm and left me on my knees praying God to spare her. - Did she make any comment on my sermon?” - </p> - <p> - “No, but I saw it failed to affect her as we wanted it to. I have kept a - close watch on her. At times she's had the appearance of a woman giving up - all hope, and then again a rebellious look would come in her face, and - she'd move about with a quick step, her head up and a defiant expression, - as if she was telling herself that she had a right to her happiness, and - would have it at any cost.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I guess she loves him,” Hillhouse sighed; “and she is fascinated by - his hellish proposal and the thought that she is sacrificing something for - his sake. I wish I could abuse him, but I can't. I can't blame him for - trying to get her; it is no more than any man would do, any man who knows - what she is.” - </p> - <p> - “I want to ask you one thing, Brother Hillhouse”—Mrs. Porter was - looking at a row of cottages across the square—“and I ask it as a - member of your church and a woman that don't want to commit unpardonable - sin. So far, I've tried to obey the commandments to the letter. I want to - know if I'd ever be forgiven if I was to descend to downright deception—lying - with my tongue and lying in my actions—that is, I mean, if, by so - doing, I could save my child from this thing?” - </p> - <p> - Hillhouse avoided her piercing eyes; his own shifted under lowering brows. - </p> - <p> - “If you could actually save her?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, if I could make her give him up—send him off?” - </p> - <p> - “I'll answer you this way,” Hillhouse replied. - </p> - <p> - “If she were in a room and a madman came searching for her with a pistol - and a long knife bent upon killing her, and if he were to ask you, as you - stood at the door, if she were inside, would you say yes?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course I wouldn't.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, there's your answer,” said the preacher. “He's a madman—mad - in soul, brain, and body. He is seeking her eternal damnation, and the - damnation of unborn souls. Lie?” He laughed sardonically. “Sister Porter, - I could stand before God and lie that way, and wink at the angels hovering - over the throne.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon you are right,” said the woman; “but I wanted to make sure. And - let me tell you something. If I <i>do</i> resort to lying I'll put up a - good one, and I'll back it up by acting that she nor no one else could see - through. Let me alone. Leave it to me. It's my last card, but I feel like - it's going to win. I'm going home now. I can hardly walk, I feel so weak - at the knees. I haven't slept regular since this thing came up. I'm going - crazy—I know I am.” - </p> - <p> - “Would you mind telling me what you intend to do?” Hillhouse asked, almost - hopefully. - </p> - <p> - “No, I'm not ready to do that yet, but it will have a powerful effect on - her. The only thing that bothered me was the sin of it, but since you - think I'd have the right I'll throw my whole soul into it. She's so - pure-minded that she won't suspect me.” - </p> - <p> - “God grant that you succeed,” Hillhouse said, fervently, and he stood as - if rooted to the spot, and watched her till she had disappeared down the - road leading to her home. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXXIV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>URING supper that - evening Mrs. Porter eyed her daughter furtively. Cynthia ate very little - and seemed abstracted, paying no heed to her father's rambling, - inconsequential remarks to her grandmother, who, in her white lace cap, - sat across the table from him. Supper over, the family went out, leaving - Cynthia to put the dishes away. Mrs. Radcliffe shambled quietly to her own - room, and Porter took his pipe to his favorite chair on the porch. Being - thus at liberty to carry out her own plans, Mrs. Porter stole unnoticed - into Cynthia's room, and in the half-darkness looked about her. The room - was in thorough order. The white bedspread was as smooth as a drift of - snow, and the pillows had not a wrinkle or a crease. The old woman - noiselessly opened the top drawer of the bureau; here everything was in - its place. She looked in the next and the next with the same result. Then - she stood erect in the centre of the room, an expression of perplexity on - her face. Suddenly she seemed to have an inspiration, and she went to the - girl's closet and opened the door. And there, under a soiled dress - belonging to Cynthia, she found a travelling-bag closely packed. - </p> - <p> - With a soundless groan, Mrs. Porter dropped the dress, closed the - closet-door, and moved back to the centre of the room. - </p> - <p> - “My God! my God!” she cried. “I can't stand it! She's fully made up her - mind.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter left the room, and, passing her husband, whose placid face - appeared intermittently in a red disk of light on the end of the porch, - she went down the steps into the yard and thence around the house towards - the orchard and grape-arbor. She paused among the trees, looking - thoughtfully at the ground. - </p> - <p> - “If I'm going to do it,” she reflected, “I'd better throw out some hint in - advance, to sort of lead up to it. I wonder if my mind is actually giving - way? I am sure I've been through enough to—but somebody is coming.” - </p> - <p> - It was Cynthia, and she came daintily over the dewy grass. - </p> - <p> - “Mother, is that you?” she called out. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter made no reply. - </p> - <p> - “Mother, is that—but why didn't you answer me?” Cynthia came up, a - searching look of inquiry in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - Still Mrs. Porter showed not the slightest indication of being aware of - her presence. Cynthia, in increasing surprise, laid her hand on her - mother's arm, but Mrs. Porter shook it off impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Nathan, if you don't quit following me up, dogging my steps, - and bothering me with your—” Mrs. Porter broke off, looking blankly - into Cynthia's face. - </p> - <p> - “Why, mother, what is the matter?” the girl exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you look like—you look like—” Mrs. Porter moved to a - near-by apple-tree and leaned against its trunk, and with her head down - she began to laugh softly, almost sillily. Cynthia drew near her again, - and, catching the old woman by the shoulders, she turned her forcibly to - her. - </p> - <p> - “Mother, what's the matter?” she demanded, her tone now quite full of - alarm. . - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Cynthia, nothing is the matter with me! I'm all right, but, but, but—good - gracious! just this minute you were—we were all at the table. Your - pa was in his place, mother was in hers, and, how in the world”—Mrs. - Porter was looking around in seeming astonishment—“how in the world - did I get out here? I don't remember leaving the house. The last thing I - recall was—” - </p> - <p> - “Mother, what's the matter?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter stared in a bewildered way at her daughter for a moment, then - she put her hand to her brow with a weary gesture. “Something <i>must</i> - be wrong with me,” she declared. “I didn't want to mention it, but this - evening as I was coming back from town I got rather warm, and all at once - I heard a little sound and felt something give way in my head. Oh, - Cynthia, I'm afraid—I'm afraid I'm going like your aunt Martha did. - They say hers was a drop of blood on the brain. Do you suppose it could be - that, daughter?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, mother, come on in the house and lie down. Go to bed, and you will - feel better in the morning.” Cynthia caught her arm, and, greatly - perturbed, slowly led the old woman towards the house. - </p> - <p> - “It's worry, daughter,” Mrs. Porter said, confidingly—“worry about - you. You seem to be bothered on account of Nelson Floyd's being away, and - I've allowed that to prey on my thoughts.” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind him, mother,” Cynthia said. “Come on in and lie down. You - don't feel any pain, do you?” - </p> - <p> - “No, daughter, not a bit—not a bit; but your aunt didn't, either. - She didn't suffer.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't you think we ought to send for the doctor, mother?” - </p> - <p> - “Doctor? No—how ridiculous! Even if it is a drop on the brain, he - couldn't do me a bit of good. The brain is inside the—the—what - do you call it? See there, my mind isn't what it was. I can't think of as - common a thing as a—you know what I mean, Cynthia.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean skull, mother,” the girl said, anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I mean that. Your aunt's memory was bad, too. She suddenly forgot - her own name, and came in from the strawberry-patch one day scared out of - her senses. The next thing was her hand getting numb. My thumb feels - queer; I believe you could stick a needle through it and I wouldn't feel - it. But don't you tell your pa, Cynthia. Wait, anyway, till to-morrow, and - see how I feel then. It may pass away, and then—then, again, it may - be the first stroke. They say people about my age usually have three, and - the last one ends it. I hope I'll go naturally—the way Martha went - was horrible; and yet when I think of all my trouble I—” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, mother, don't!” Cynthia cried. They had now reached the porch. - Porter had retired, and so they passed on unnoticed to Mrs. Porter's room. - </p> - <p> - Cynthia helped her mother undress and get into the bed, and then she went - to her own room and sat down, irresolutely, at her table. She leaned her - head on her crossed arms and remained quite still. She was very tired in - brain and body, and presently dropped to sleep. She slept for about two - hours. Suddenly she waked with a start. The clock in the sitting-room was - striking ten. Nelson would be at the grape-arbor soon, she told herself - with a shudder. Perhaps he was already there, and too cautious to whistle - as on former meetings. She stood up, tiptoed to the closet, and opened the - door. She uncovered the hidden valise and lifted it out into the light. - Then a recollection of her mother's strange condition struck her like a - blow in the face, and, standing in the centre of the room, she sighed. - </p> - <p> - Just then she heard the tread of bare feet in the hall, and a low-mumbled - monologue. Her heart stood still, for she recognized her mother's voice. - Going softly to the door, she peered out, and there, in a thin, white - dress, stood Mrs. Porter, Nathan's double-barrelled shot-gun clutched in - her hand, her long hair hanging loose on her back. The old woman's face - was averted, and she seemed unaware of her daughter's presence. - </p> - <p> - “Lord, my God, pardon me for this last act,” she was praying. “It may be a - sin in Thy sight for a tortured person to seek escape from trouble by this - course, but I can't stand it any longer.” - </p> - <p> - “Mother, what is this?” Cynthia darted out into the hall and snatched the - gun from her mother's hands. - </p> - <p> - For an instant Mrs. Porter stood staring at her daughter, and then, as if - to escape her glance, she turned and went slowly into Cynthia's room. - </p> - <p> - “Sh!” she said; “don't wake your pa.” And, seeing Cynthia's lamp burning - low, she blew down the chimney and put it out. The room was now dark save - for the moonlight that struggled in at the windows on each side of the - drawn shades. - </p> - <p> - “Mother, you've got to tell me,” Cynthia demanded, as she leaned the - cumbersome weapon against the wall and groped towards the still, white - figure; “what were you going to do with that gun?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Porter said nothing, but moved backward to Cynthia's bed and, with a - groan, sat down on it. - </p> - <p> - “Mother”—Cynthia leaned over her, a horrible fear gripping her - heart-cords—“what were you about to do?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know as I am obliged to tell you or anybody,” Mrs. Porter said, - doggedly. - </p> - <p> - “Mother”—Cynthia sat down by the old woman and put her arm about the - gaunt figure—“what were you going to do?” - </p> - <p> - “I was going to get out of my trouble, if you <i>will</i> know,” Mrs. - Porter said, looking her daughter defiantly in the face. - </p> - <p> - “Your trouble, mother?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I've borne it as long as I can. Huh! you can't guess how much I - know. I was awake last Friday night and overheard your plan to run off - with Nelson Floyd. I was in a yard of you, crouched down behind the - rose-bushes. You said you'd decide by to-night, and ever since then I've - been tortured like a condemned soul. That's what affected my brain to-day. - It wasn't the sun. Since that awful hour I have been praying God to spare - you—to have mercy on my misguided child, and I hoped He would do it, - but to-night, while you were putting the dishes away, I came in here and - saw your packed valise, and knew you had concluded to leave. Then—then - I decided to—to go like Sister Martha did. I was going out in the - meadow, by the creek, where it was quiet. I couldn't bear the thought of - having to face all those curious people who will throng the house - to-morrow to find out about your disgrace.” - </p> - <p> - “You say you were there?” Cynthia gasped—“you heard?” - </p> - <p> - “Every word,” answered Mrs. Porter; “and every one was a rusty nail in my - heart.” - </p> - <p> - There was silence. Cynthia had no defence to offer. She simply sat with - bowed head, her arm lying limp upon her mother's thinly clad shoulders.' - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you made up your mind to stain forever our family record. No other - girl that I ever heard of, even among our far-off kin, ever threw away her - honor as you—” - </p> - <p> - “Stop, mother, you are going too far!” Cynthia cried, removing her arm and - standing erect before the old woman. - </p> - <p> - “Cynthia, my <i>poor, poor baby!</i> in all that man said the other night - he didn't once mention marriage. - </p> - <p> - “But he meant it, mother!” broke from the girl's pallid lips—“he - meant it!” - </p> - <p> - “He didn't mean anything of the kind, you little fool! As plain as plain - could be, he said, right out, that he had no name to give you. And any - fool knows no marriage can be legal unless it is brought about under the - lawful names of the contracting parties. He simply was trying to give you - to understand that he wanted you as a companion in his sin and misery. He - has lost his right to a foothold in society, and he wants you, of your own - accord and free will, to renounce yours. It was a crazy idea, and one that - could have come from none but a brain disordered by liquor, but that is - what he had in view.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't believe it,” Cynthia said, firmly. - </p> - <p> - “It doesn't make any difference what you believe,” Mrs. Porter returned. - “I'm older than you, and I see through him. He tried and tried to ruin you - as he did Minnie Wade, but when he was reduced to despair by his trouble - he rose from his debauch and wanted to turn his very misfortune to your - undoing. The idiot was trying to make himself believe, because his parents - had brought all that nastiness down on him, that he would be justified in - a like course. The disgrace he had inherited he intended to hand down to - another generation, and you—you poor, simple thing!—you calmly - packed your white, unspotted things and were ready to sell yourself to his - hellish purpose.” - </p> - <p> - There was awful silence. Cynthia stared, unable to utter a word. She may - have doubted the fairness of her mother's version, but the grim picture - painted there in the darkness by a woman in seeming readiness to take her - own life on account of it fairly chilled her young life's blood. Suddenly - a sound broke the outside stillness. There was no mistaking it. It rang - out as shrilly on the girl's quaking consciousness as the shriek of a - locomotive dashing through a mountain gorge. - </p> - <p> - “There he is now,” said Mrs. Porter. “Pick up your valise and hurry, hurry - to him; but before you go hand me that gun. Before you and he get in that - buggy you'll hear my death-knell, and you may know, too, that you fired - the shot into the withered breast that nursed you. Go! I'm not keeping - you!” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia swayed visibly in the darkness, and then she sank to her knees and - put her head in her mother's lap. - </p> - <p> - “I won't go,” she groaned, softly. “Mother, I'll do anything you say—anything!” - </p> - <p> - “Now you are joking, I know,” Mrs. Porter said, harshly. - </p> - <p> - “No, I mean it—God knows I mean it, mother! Only give me a chance to - prove that I mean it. I'll never see him again, if that will suit you—never - on earth! I'll stay and nurse you and make you well.” - </p> - <p> - “If I thought you meant that, Cynthia—Lord, Lord, what a load it - would take off of me! Don't—don't say that unless you mean it; the—the - joy of saving you would almost kill me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, mother, God knows I mean it!” - </p> - <p> - “Then”—Mrs. Porter seemed to squeeze her words from her frail body - as she stiffly rose to her feet—“then you must let me go, myself, - out there and send him off.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia, still on her knees, glanced up, her startled eyes wide open. - </p> - <p> - “Would you ask that, mother?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, for in my present condition I'm afraid I'd never believe it was - absolutely settled. I—I'm not as clear-headed as I used to be. I've - got deep-rooted suspicions, and I'm afraid they would prey on my mind.” - </p> - <p> - “Then go, mother—go send him away. I'd rather never see him again on - earth than to cause you to—to contemplate—but go, mother!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you stay here then.” Mrs. Porter was moving towards the door. “I'll - be easy with him. I'm so happy over this release that I feel grateful even - to him. I'll be gentle, Cynthia.” - </p> - <p> - As she stood in the door-way of the chamber and glanced back, Mrs. Porter - saw Cynthia throw herself face downward on the bed. The old woman was in - the hall making her way towards the front-door when she heard Cynthia call - her. Retracing her steps, she found her daughter sitting up. - </p> - <p> - “Mother,” the girl said, “let me go with you. You can hear all that passes - between us. That ought to be satisfactory.” - </p> - <p> - “No, that won't suit me,” Mrs. Porter said, firmly. “I've set my heart on - your never facing that man again. For you to go, it would look like you - are crazy after him, and he'd hang around here no telling how long.” - </p> - <p> - “Then go on, mother.” Cynthia fell back on the bed, and, covering her face - with her hands, lay still. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXXV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>S Mrs. Porter - stepped down into the yard the whippoorwill call sounded again. “Huh!” she - said to herself, exultingly, “I reckon I'll reach there soon enough to - suit you, Nelson Floyd. You wanted to get her away from her mother's - tongue, did you? Well, you'll find that I'm no fool, if I <i>am</i> old.” - </p> - <p> - As she emerged from the shade of the apple-trees into the little open in - front of the grape-arbor, Nelson Floyd, the red, impatient flare of a - cigar in his face, appeared in the door-way. - </p> - <p> - “Thank God you didn't fail me!” he exclaimed, in accents of vast relief. - “For a while I was actually afraid—” - </p> - <p> - “Afraid that I wouldn't be on time!” Mrs. Porter broke in, with a metallic - little laugh. “I always keep my engagements, Nelson Floyd—or, I beg - your pardon, Cynthia says you don't call yourself by that name now.” - </p> - <p> - “Great God, it's <i>you!</i>” he exclaimed, and his cigar fell at his - feet. “Why, Mrs. Porter—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, we needn't stand here and take up time talking about whether it's - going to rain or not,” she sneered. “The truth is, I'm due in bed. I've - been asleep in my chair half a dozen times since supper. You see, I - promised Cynthia that I'd keep this appointment for her, and she tumbled - into bed, and is snoozing along at a great rate, while I am doing her - work.” - </p> - <p> - “You—you promised—I—I—don't understand,” Floyd - managed to get out of the chaos of his brain. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I reckon you don't see it exactly <i>our</i> way,” Mrs. Porter - sneered. “And that's because of your high opinion of your own charm. There - is nothing on earth that will lead a man from the road of fact as quick as - vanity. You thought my girl would jump at your proposition, but, la me! - she just dallied with you to get you away last Friday night. At least, - that's what I think, for she brought the whole thing to me the next - morning, even telling me how you abused me behind my back. She asked me - how she'd better get out of it. Most girls plunge headlong into things of - this kind without deliberation, but she's not that way. She generally - looks ahead, and the truth is, if I may tell state secrets, she has a - strong leaning towards Brother Hillhouse. He's a good man—a man that - can be counted on—and a man with a respectable family behind him, - and, while I'm not sure about it, I think she intends to accept him.” - </p> - <p> - “Great God, Mrs. Porter, you don't mean that she—” - </p> - <p> - “You see there! I knew you were incapable of seeing anything that don't - tend to your own glory. You thought all along that my girl was crazy about - you, but you didn't know her. She's no fool. She's got a long head on her - shoulders.” - </p> - <p> - “But didn't she—she send me any message?” Floyd asked, in a tone of - abject bewilderment. - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, now I come to think of it, she did. She said for me to beg you - never to bother her any more.” - </p> - <p> - “She said that? Oh, Mrs. Porter, I—” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and just as she was cuddling up in bed”—Mrs. Porter's - selection of words had never been so adroit—“she called me to her - and said that she wondered if you would mind never telling how foolish she - had been to meet you out here like she did. I don't know why she was so - particular, unless it is that people in this day and time love to throw up - to a preacher's wife all the imprudent things she did when she was young.” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Porter, do you actually think Cynthia loves that man?” Floyd's voice - shook, and he leaned heavily against the frame of the arbor. - </p> - <p> - “Love him? How can anybody tell who a woman loves? They don't know - themselves half the time; but I'll say this to you: Mr. Hillhouse has been - courting her in an open, straightforward way, and that pleased her. He's a - man of brains, too, and is going to work his way high up in his - profession. He'll be a great light some day. The regard of a man like that - is a compliment to a poor country girl; and then she is sure of a life of - solid respectability, while with you—good gracious! What's the use - of talking about it? But you haven't told me whether you will agree not to - bother her again. She'll be anxious to know what you said about that. You - see, you might get drunk again, and there is no telling how foolish and - persistent you may become, and—” - </p> - <p> - “I shall not bother her again,” said Floyd. “Tell her I gave you my - faithful promise on that. Not only that, but I am going away, and shall - never come back here again.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll tell her—I'll tell her in the morning as soon as she - wakes up. La me! I used to be a girl myself, and there was no bother equal - to having an old beau hanging around, as we girls used to say in slang, - after he'd got his 'walking papers'—that is, after the right man was - settled on.” - </p> - <p> - “There is one thing I want you to tell her”—Floyd breathed heavily—“and - that is that I'll never care for any other girl.” - </p> - <p> - “Shucks! I won't take any such message as that,” the old woman sniffed. - “Besides, what's the use? After a flirtation is laid away it ought to die - a natural death. The biggest wasters of time in the world are married - women who love to look back on old love-scrapes, and sit and brag about - them, instead of mending socks and attending to the responsibilities that - are piled up on every hand. Well, I'm going in now. It's been a long, hot - day, but in this thin dress I feel chilly. I don't want to be hard on you, - and I wish you well, so I do, where-ever you go.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Mrs. Porter,” and, with his head hanging low, Nelson Floyd - turned to leave. “I can only assure you,” he added, “that I'll never - trouble Cynthia any more. I shall certainly respect her wish.” - </p> - <p> - “All right; that's as much as she could ask of you,” the old woman - returned; “and perhaps, since you are so polite, I ought to thank you.” - </p> - <p> - As she was drawing near the house, she said to herself with a low, - satisfied chuckle: “I believe I worked him exactly right. If I'd 'a' let - him know I suspected his full villany he wouldn't have been shaken off so - easily. But what am I going to do about that drop of blood on my brain?” - she laughed. “If I get rid of it too suddenly Cynthia may smell a mouse. I - believe I'll wait a few days and then tell her I think my stroke was due - to that new hair-restorer I'm using, an' promise to throw it away.” She - paused at the steps and shuddered. “But am I not really a little off?” she - mused. “Surely no woman in the full possession of her senses could have - gone through all that, as if it were God's truth from beginning to end.” - </p> - <p> - Inside the hall, after she had softly shut the front door, she saw Cynthia - standing on the threshold of her chamber. - </p> - <p> - “Did you see him, mother?” The question was hardly above a whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, I saw him,” the old woman answered, frigidly. “I saw him.” - </p> - <p> - “What did he say, mother?” The girl's voice was low, tremulous, and - halting. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I don't know as he said much of anything, he was so set back by - seeing me in this outfit instead of you in your best Sunday-go-to-meeting, - with your valise in hand, ready to fly to the moon with him. He let me do - most of the talking.” Mrs. Porter managed to stifle a chuckle of - satisfaction, and the darkness hid her impulsive smile. “He seemed to be - more reasonable, though, than most men would be in his condition. I don't - think he was fully sober; he smoked like a steam-engine, dropping cigars - and lighting fresh ones, as if they were his main-stay and support. He - agreed with me, in a roundabout way, that it was a foolish thing for him - to expect a respectable girl to run off in the dead of night with a man of - his stamp, and he ended by saying for me to tell you that he was going - away off somewhere and that he wouldn't bother you any more. He looked and - acted like a thief caught on the spot with the goods in hand and was ready - to promise anything to escape arrest and prosecution.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you have had your way, mother,” Cynthia said, quietly; “I hope you - will feel better satisfied now.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I will, I will—in fact, I feel some better already.” There was - another incipient chuckle far down in Mrs. Porter's throat, but she - coughed it away. “I really feel like I'm going to get well. I'll sleep - like a log to-night. You'd better turn in yourself, daughter.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, mother—good-night.” - </p> - <p> - The next morning, shortly after breakfast, as Mrs. Porter was attending to - some hens' nests in the barn-yard, Hillhouse crept out of the thicket just - beyond the fence and approached her. He was quite pale and nervous, and - bent his head and shoulders that the high staked-and-ridered rail-fence - might hide him from the view of the house. - </p> - <p> - “I've been out here in the woods for an hour watching your back-door,” he - said. “I was in hopes that I'd see Cynthia moving about in the diningroom - or kitchen. You see, I don't know yet whether she went off last night or - stayed. I haven't closed my eyes since I saw you.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you <i>have</i> got it bad,” Mrs. Porter laughed, dryly, “and you - needn't worry any more. I reckon I spilled ink all over my record in the - Lamb's Book of Life, but I set in to succeed, and I worked it so fine that - she let me go out and send him away for good and all.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Sister Porter, is that true?” - </p> - <p> - “It's a great deal truer than anything that passed my lips last night,” - Mrs. Porter answered, crisply. “Brother Phillhouse, if I ever get - forgiveness, there is one of the commandments that will have to be cut out - of the list, for I certainly broke it all to smash. I had a separate lie - stowed away in every pore of my skin last night, and they hung like - cockle-burs to every hair of my head. I wish I was a Catholic.” - </p> - <p> - “A Catholic?” Hillhouse repeated, his eyes dancing in delight, his sallow - skin taking on color. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I'd sell our horses and cows and land, and give it to a priest, and - tell him to wipe my soul clean with the proceeds. I feel happy, and I feel - mean. Something tells me that I'd have made an expert woman thief—perhaps - the greatest in the history of all nations.” - </p> - <p> - “What sort of fibs did you tell, Sister Porter?” Hillhouse was smiling - unctuously and rubbing his long hands together. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I don't intend to tell you,” said the old woman; “besides, it would - take a week. I spun the finest fabric of falsehood that was ever made. And - I'm not done yet, for I've got to keep it up, and not let it lop off too - suddenly.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, do you think there will be any living chance for me?” the preacher - said. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I do—that is, if you won't push matters too fast and will be - patient. I have a plan now that you will like. Didn't you tell me you were - going to preach two sermons this month at Cartersville?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I take Brother Johnston's place for two weeks while he goes off for - his vacation.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Mrs. Porter, “you know Nathan's brother George lives there. - In fact, his wife and daughters belong to Mr. Johnston's church. George is - a well-to-do lawyer, and his children dote on Cynthia; now I'm going to - send her down there for a change.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that will be simply fine!” Hillhouse cried, his face aglow. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and if you can't make hay while the sun shines down there, you'll - deserve to fail. Cynthia has promised to give Floyd up, and he's agreed - not to bother her any more. Now you slip back into the woods. I wouldn't - have her see you here at this time of day for anything. When she gets her - thinking apparatus to work she's going to do a lot of wondering, anyway.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXXVI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>EN days passed. It - was now towards the close of a hot and sultry August. Nothing more had - been heard of Nelson Floyd, and the sensation due to his mysterious - absence had, to some extent, subsided. That Mayhew knew of his whereabouts - few persons doubted, for it was noticeable that the old man had put his - shoulder to the wheel and was attending to business with less fear and - nervousness. It was the opinion of Mrs. Snodgrass that he knew exactly - where Floyd was, and expected him to return sooner or later. In fact, it - was known to many that Mayhew had suddenly ceased to make inquiry through - detectives and the police, and that meant something. The information that - Floyd had been back in secret to his home would have startled the - community from centre to outer edge, but that was discreetly kept to - themselves by the few who knew of it. - </p> - <p> - Pole Baker was the first to meet Floyd again. It was in Atlanta. Standing - in the main entrance of the Kimball House one afternoon, Pole saw Floyd on - the opposite side of the street. He was walking rapidly, his head up. He - was neatly dressed, cleanshaven, and had a clear, healthful complexion, as - if he were in good physical condition. - </p> - <p> - “Thank God! thar he goes,” Pole exclaimed, “an' I'll bet a hoss he's quit - drinkin'.” Quickly darting across the street, he followed Floyd the best - he could on the crowded sidewalk. He had pursued him thus for several - blocks when Floyd suddenly entered one of the large wholesale dry-goods - stores. Reaching the door and looking in, Pole saw his friend just - disappearing in the glass-enclosed office in the rear of the big room. - Pole entered and stood waiting amid the stacks of cotton and woollen goods - which, in rolls and bolts, were heaped as high as his shoulders over the - whole floor. Salesmen were busy with customers in different parts of the - room, and porters and “stock men” hurried by with big baskets on wheels, - and little notice was taken of the mountaineer. - </p> - <p> - Presently Floyd emerged and came rapidly down one of the aisles towards - the door. Pole stepped directly in front of him. - </p> - <p> - “Why, hello!” Floyd exclaimed, flushing suddenly as he cordially extended - his hand. “I wasn't looking for you, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you differ from me,” said Baker; “that's just what I was doin'. I - was lookin' fer you, Nelson. I begun yesterday an' kept it up till I seed - you go by the Kimball jest now like you was shot out of a gun, an' I bent - to the trail, an' here I am. Yes, I want to see you. I've got a favor to - ax, old friend.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you can have anything I've got.” Floyd smiled rather sheepishly as - he laid his hand on Pole's shoulder. “The only trouble right now is that - I'm pressed for time. A lot depends on what may take place in the next two - hours, and I'm afraid to think of anything else. When do you go back?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I kin take a train any time. I'm in no big hurry, Nelson. All I want - is to get to talk to you a few minutes.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I'll tell you what to do,” Floyd proposed. “Take this key to my room - at the Kimball House. I've got a bed to spare up there. And, more than - that, Pole, go in and take your supper in my place. It will be all right. - I registered on the American plan. Then I'll meet you in the room about - eight o'clock. You see, it's this way: I've brought a fellow with me from - Birmingham, and he's back there in the office now. He and I are on a trade - for all my iron lands in Alabama. A thing like this is a big, exciting - game with me; it drives out all other thoughts, and, the Lord knows, right - now I need some diversion. He and I are going to the house of a friend of - his in the country and take early supper there. I'll be back by eight, - sure, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “That'll suit me all right,” said Pole, as he took the key and looked at - the number on the brass tag. “I'll be there, Nelson. I wouldn't let you - stand for my expenses, but if your bill's paid anyway, that's different.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it won't cost me a cent extra,” said Floyd. “Here comes my man now. - I'd introduce you, but we are in a devil of a hurry.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you ready?” a middle-aged man in a linen suit and straw hat asked, as - he walked up hastily. “I'll make the driver strike a brisk gait.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I'm ready,” Floyd said, and he turned to Baker. “Don't forget, - Pole.” As he was walking away, he threw back: “I'll meet you at eight or - before, sure. I don't want to miss you.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXXVII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HAT night, after - supper, Pole was in Floyd's room at the hotel. The weather being warm, he - had raised the window, which opened on a busy street, and sat smoking, - with his coat off. From the outside came the clanging of street-car bells - and the shrill voices of newsboys crying the afternoon papers. Suddenly he - heard the iron door of the elevator slide back, and a moment later Floyd - stood on the threshold of the room. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I succeeded, Pole!” he cried, sitting down on the window-sill and - fanning himself with his straw hat. “I sold out, lock, stock, and barrel, - and at an advance that I never would have dreamed of asking if I hadn't - been in a reckless mood. Really, I didn't know the property was so - valuable. My man kept hanging onto me, following me from place to place, - wanting to know what I'd take, till finally, simply to get rid of him, I - priced the property at three times what I had ever asked for it. To mv - astonishment, he said he would come over to Atlanta with me, and if - certain friends of his would help him carry it he would trade. Pole, my - boy, I've made more money to-day than I've made all the rest of my life - put together, and”—Floyd sighed as he tossed his hat on one of the - beds and locked his hands behind his neck—“I reckon I care less for - material prosperity than I ever did.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm glad you made a good trade,” Pole said. “You were born lucky, - my boy.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I don't know,” answered Floyd; “but here I am talking about my own - affairs when you came to see me about yours. What can I do for you, Pole? - If it's money you want, you certainly came to headquarters, and you can - get all you want and no questions asked.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't come to see you on my own business, Nelson,” Pole answered. “I'm - here on account of old man Mayhew. Nelson, he's mighty nigh plumb crazy - over you bein' away. He can't run that thing up thar single-handed; he's - leaned too long on you fer that, an' then he's gittin' old and sorter - childish. I never knowed it before, Nelson, but he looks on you sorter - like a son. The old fellow's eyes got full an' he choked up when he was - beggin' me to come down here an' see you. He gathered from yore last - letter that you intended to go West and live, an' he called me in an' - begged me to come and persuade you not to do it. Nelson, I'll hate it like - rips, too, ef you leave us. Them old mountains is yore rightful home, an' - I'm here to tell you that God Almighty never give any one man more friends - than you've got amongst them plain, honest folks. By gum! they jest stand - around in bunches an' talk an' talk about you an'—an' yore—late - trouble. Thar ain't one in the lot but what 'ud be glad to help you bear - it.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd stood up suddenly, and, with his hands behind him, he began to walk - back and forth across the room. - </p> - <p> - “It's the only spot on earth I'll ever care about,” Pole heard him say in - a deep, husky voice, “and God knows I love the people; but I don't want to - go back, Pole. Fate rather rubbed it in on me up there. All my early life - I nursed the hope that I would eventually be able to prove that my parents - were good, respectable people, and then when I was beginning to despair it - went out that I belonged to a great and high family, and the aristocracy - of the section extended their hands and congratulated me and patted me on - the back. But that wasn't for long. My guardian angel—my old - stand-by, Pole—came to me with a malignant grin and handed me the - information that I was—was what you couldn't call the humblest man - you know up there and live a minute later.” - </p> - <p> - “I know—I know, Nelson,” sighed Pole, his honest face tortured by - inward sympathy. “I see you've got a big, big argument in favor o' the - step you are thinking about, but I want to see if I can't put it to you in - another light. Listen to me, my boy. Different men suffer in different - ways. Maybe you don't think I've suffered any to speak of. But, my boy, - when I was tried by my peers up thar, in the open court of God's soft - starlight—-when my neighbors, well-meanin', fair-thinkin' folks, - come to me in the night-time an' called me out to lay the lash on my bare - back fer wilful neglect o' them that was dear an' true to me, all—all, - I say—that was wuth a tinker's damn in me sunk down, down into the - bottomless pit o' hell. I thought about shirkin', about pullin' up stakes - an' goin' away off some'rs to begin new, but I seed that wouldn't wipe it - out o' folks' memories, nor out o' me, and so I decided to stay right thar - an' fight—fight it to a finish. It was awful to meet them men in the - light o' day with the'r masks off, an' know what each one was a-think-in', - but I went through it, and, thank God, I begin to see light ahead. It - looks like they understand my struggle an' think none the less o' me. - Lord, Lord, ef you could jest witness the kind words an' gentle ways o' - them men towards me an' mine now, you'd believe what preachers say about - the spirit o' God dwellin' in every man's breast.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd had turned, and he now laid a sympathetic hand on Pole's shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “I knew what you were going through,” he said, “and I wanted to help you, - but didn't know how. Then this damned thing came on me like a bolt from a - clear sky.” - </p> - <p> - “Nelson, listen to me. I am here to-night to beg you to do like I done—to - come back to yore old home and meet that thing face to face. As God is my - judge, I believe sech great big troubles as yore'n are laid on folks fer a - good purpose. Other men have gone through exactly what you've had to bear, - an' lived to become great characters in the history o' the world's - progress. Nelson, that's the one an' only thing left fer you to do. It's - hell, but it will be fer yore own good in the end. Buck up agin it, my - boy, an' what seems hard now will look as easy after a while as failin' - off a log.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd turned and began to walk back and forth again. The room was filled - with silence. Through the open window came the sound of brass musical - instruments, the rattling of a tambourine, the ringing of cymbals. Then a - clear voice—that of a young woman—rose in a sacred song. It - was a band of Salvationists clustered near a street corner under a hanging - arc light. Floyd paused near to Pole and looked thoughtfully from the - window; then he sat down on the bed. For a moment he stared at the floor, - and then, folding his arms across his breast, he suddenly raised his head. - </p> - <p> - “Pole,” he said, firmly, “I'm going to take your advice.” - </p> - <p> - There was silence. The two men sat facing each other. Suddenly the - mountaineer leaned over and said: “Give me your hand on it, Nelson. You'll - never regret this as long as you live.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd extended his hand and then got up and began to walk back and forth - across the room again. - </p> - <p> - “I've got another trouble to bear, Pole,” he said, gloomily. - </p> - <p> - “You say you have, Nelson?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and it is worse than all. Pole, I've lost the love of the only woman - I ever really cared for.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean Cynthia Porter?” said Pole, and he leaned forward, his eyes - burning. - </p> - <p> - Floyd nodded, took one or two steps, and then paused near to Pole. “You - don't know it, perhaps, but I've been back up there lately.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh no!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I went back to see her. I couldn't stay away from her. I had been on - a protracted spree. I was on the brink of suicide, in a disordered - condition of mind and body, when all at once it occurred to me that - perhaps she might not absolutely scorn me. Pole, the very hope that she - might be willing to share my misfortune suddenly sobered me. I was in an - awful condition, but I stopped drinking and went up there one night. I - secretly met her and proposed an elopement. The poor little girl was so - excited that she would not decide then, but she agreed to give me her - final decision a week later.” - </p> - <p> - “Great God! you don't mean it, Nelson!” the mountaineer cried in surprise—“shorely - you don't!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I do. Then I went back to fill the appointment, but she had confided - it all to her mother, and the old lady came out and told me that Cynthia - not only refused me, but that she earnestly hoped I would never bother her - again.” - </p> - <p> - “My Lord!” Pole exclaimed; “and there was a time when I actually thought—but - that's <i>her</i> matter, Nelson. A man hain't got no right on earth - dabblin' in a woman's heart-affairs. To me nothin' ain't more sacred than - a woman's choice of her life-partner.” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Porter hinted plainly that Cynthia was thinking of marrying - Hillhouse,” said Floyd. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, now I begin to see ahead!” the farmer said, reflectively. “Cynthia's - down at Cartersville now, on a visit to her cousins, and the long-legged - parson is there, too, filling in for another preacher. I don't pretend to - understand women, Nelson. Thar's been a lots o' talk about her and - Hillhouse since you went off. I axed Sally what she thought about it, an' - she seemed to think if Cynthia had quit thinkin' o' you it was due to the - reports in circulation that you had started in to drinkin'. Sally thought - that Cynthia was one woman that 'ud not resk her chance with a drinkin' - man. Cynthia's a good girl, Nelson, and maybe she thinks she kin make - herse'f useful in life by marrying a preacher. I dunno. And then he is a - bright sort of fellow; he is sharp enough to know that she is the smartest - and best unmarried woman in Georgia. Well, that will be purty hard fer you - to bear, but you must face it along with the other, my boy.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I've got to grin and bear it,” Floyd said, almost under his breath. - “I've got to face that and the knowledge that I might have won her if I - had gone about it in the right way. From my unfortunate father I have - inherited some gross passions, Pole, and I was not always strong enough to - rise above them. I made many big mistakes before I met her, and even after - that, I blush to say, my old tendency clung to me so that—well, I - never understood her, as she really deserved, till the day you raked me - over the coals at the bush-arbor meeting. Pole, that night, when she and I - were thrown by the storm in that barn together, I remembered all you said. - It seemed to give me new birth, and I saw her for the first time as she - was, in all her wonderful womanly strength and beauty of character and - soul, and from that moment I loved her. My God, Pole, the realization of - that big, new passion broke over me like a great, dazzling light. It took - me in its grasp and shook everything that was vile and gross out of me. - From that moment I could never look into her face for very shame of having - failed to comprehend her.” - </p> - <p> - “I seed you was in danger,” Pole said, modestly. “It was a mighty hard - thing to have to talk as I did to a friend, but I felt that it was my - duty, and out it come. I'm not goin' to take no hand in this, though, - Nelson. I think you are in every way worthy o' her, but, as I say, only a - woman kin tell who she ought to yoke with fer life. If she refused you, - after due deliberation, an' decided on another man, why, I hain't one - single word to say. I'm after her happiness, as I'm after yore'n. I'd like - to see you linked together, but ef that ain't to be, then I want to see - you both happy apart.” - </p> - <p> - For a moment neither spoke. Then it seemed that Pole wanted to change the - subject. - </p> - <p> - “In tryin' to run upon you this mornin', Nelson,” he said, “I went out to - yore—out to Henry A. Floyd's. That woman, his housekeeper, met me at - the door an' let me inside the hall. She's a kind, talkative old soul, and - she's worried mighty nigh to death about the old man. She remembered - seein' me before, an' she set in to tellin' me all about his troubles. It - seems that he's had some lawsuit, an' his last scrap o' property is to be - tuck away from him. She told me thar was a debt of three thousand dollars - to pay in the morning or' everything would go. While she was talkin' he - come along, lookin' more dead than alive, an' I axed 'im ef he could put - me on to yore track. He glared at me like a crazy man; his jaws was all - sunk in, an' with his gray hair an' beard untrimmed, an' his body all of a - quiver, he simply looked terrible. - </p> - <p> - “'No,' said he, 'I don't know whar you kin find 'im. I've heard that he - was in trouble, an' I'm sorry, fer I know what trouble means,' an' with - that he stood thar twistin' his hands an' cryin' like a pitiful little - child about the three thousand dollars his creditors wanted, an' that thar - wasn't a ghost of a chance to raise it. He said he'd made every effort, - an' now was starin' starvation in the face. He turned an' went back to his - room, puttin' his old, bony hand on the wall to keep from failin' as he - moved along. I'm a pore man, Nelson, but, by all that's holy, ef I'd 'a' - had the money the old chap wanted this mornin' I'd 'a' hauled it out an' - 'a' kissed it farewell. I'm that way, Nelson. A fool an' his money is soon - parted. I'd 'a' been seven idiots in a row ef I'd 'a' had that much cash, - fer I'd certainly 'a' yanked that squirmin' old. chap off'n his bed o' - coals.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd bent towards the speaker. Their eyes met understandingly. - </p> - <p> - “But I've got money, Pole—money to spare—and that old wreck is - my father's only brother. I've made a fortune in a single deal to-day. - Look here, Pole, I'm going out there to-night—<i>to-night</i>, do - you understand?—to-night, before he goes to bed, and give him a - check that will more than cover his shortage.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you goin' to do that, Nelson?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am. Do you want to come along to witness it?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I'll wait fer you here, but God bless you, my boy. You'll never, - never be sorry fer it, if you live to be a hundred years old.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd sat down at a table, and, with a checkbook in hand, was adjusting - his fountain-pen. Pole went to the window and looked out. Down in the - glare below a woman in a blue hood and dress stood praying aloud, in a - clear, appealing voice, while all about her were grouped the other - Salvationists and a few earnest-eyed spectators. - </p> - <p> - “That's right, Miss Blue-frock,” Pole said to himself; “go ahead an' rake - in yore converts from the highways an' byways, but I've got one in this - room you needn't bother about. By gum! ef it was jest a little darker in - here, I'll bet I could see a ring o' fire round his head.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXXVIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the street - below, Nelson took a car for his uncle's residence, and fifteen minutes - later he was standing on the veranda ringing the bell. Through a window on - his left he looked into a lighted room. He saw old Floyd's bent figure - moving about within, and then the housekeeper admitted him into the dimly - lighted hall. She regarded him with surprise as she recalled his face. - </p> - <p> - “You want to see Mr. Floyd?” she said. “I'll see if he will let you come - in. He's in a frightful condition, sir, over his troubles. Really, sir, - he's so desperate I'm afraid he may do himself some harm.” - </p> - <p> - Leaving Nelson standing in the hall, she went into the lighted room, and - the young man heard her talking persuasively to her master. Presently she - came back and motioned the visitor to enter. He did so, finding the old - man standing over a table covered with letters, deeds, and other legal - documents. He did not offer his hand, and the young man stood in some - embarrassment before him. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” old Floyd said, “what do you want? Are you here to gloat over me?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I am not,” returned the visitor. “It is simply because I do not feel - that way that I came. A friend of mine was here to-day, and he said you - were in trouble.” - </p> - <p> - “Trouble?—huh!” snarled old Floyd. “I guess you are glad to know - that.” - </p> - <p> - “I certainly am not,” Nelson said, warmly. “I heard of it only a few - minutes ago at the Kimball House, where I am staying, and I took the first - car to reach you. I wish I had heard of the matter earlier—that is, - if you will allow me to help you out.” - </p> - <p> - “You—you help me?” Old Floyd extended his thin hand and drew a chair - to him and sank into it. “They've all talked that way—every - money-lender and banker that I have applied to. They all say they want to - help, but when they look at these”—Floyd waved his hand despondently - over the documents—“when they look at these, and see the size of the - mortgage, they make excuses and back out. I don't want to waste time with - you. I know what sort of man you are. You have made what you've got by - being as close as the bark on a tree, and I'm going to tell you at the - outset that I haven't any security—not a dollar's worth.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't want security,” Nelson said, looking sympathetically down into - the withered face. - </p> - <p> - “You don't want—” The old man, his hands on his knees, made an - effort to rise, but failed. “My Lord, you say you don't want security; - then—then what the devil <i>do</i> you want?” - </p> - <p> - “I want to <i>give</i> you the money, if you'll do me the honor to accept - it,” Nelson declared. “My friend told me the amount was exactly three - thousand. I have drawn this check for four.” The young man was extending - the pink slip of paper towards him. “And if that is not enough to put you - squarely on your feet, I am ready to increase it.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean—” The old man took the check and, with blearing eyes and - shaking hands, examined it in the lamplight. “You mean that you will <i>give</i>—actually, - <i>give</i> me four thousand dollars, when I haven't a scrap of security - to put up?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's exactly what I mean.” - </p> - <p> - Old Floyd took his eyes from the check and shrinkingly raised them to the - young man's face. Then he dropped the paper on the table and groaned. - There was silence for a moment. The housekeeper, passing by the open door, - looked in wonderingly, and moved on. The old man saw her, and, rising - suspiciously, he shambled to the door and closed it. Then he turned - aimlessly and came slowly back, his hand pressed to his brow. - </p> - <p> - “I can't make it out,” Nelson heard him muttering. “I'm afraid of it. It - may be a trick, and yet what trick could anybody play on a man in the hole - I'm in? <i>Four thousand?</i>” He was looking first at the check and then - at his caller. “Four thousand would save me from actual ruin—it - would make me comfortable for life. I can't believe you mean to give it to - me—really <i>give</i> it. The world isn't built that way. It would - be very unbecoming in me to doubt you, to impugn your motives, sir, but - I'm all upset. The doctors say my mind is affected. One lawyer, a sharper, - suggested that I could get out of this debt by claiming that I was not - mentally responsible when I signed the papers, but that wouldn't work. I - knew mighty well what I was doing. Now, on top of it all, here you come—<i>you</i> - of all living men—and, in so many plain English words—offer to - give me a thousand more than the debt. Sir, I don't want to be impolite, - but I simply can't believe that you mean it.” - </p> - <p> - Greatly moved, the young man put his hands on the old man's shoulders and - gently pressed him down into his chair; then he got another and sat close - to him. - </p> - <p> - “Try to look at this thing calmly,” he said. “In the first place, you - don't understand me. You are not a relative of mine by law, but by blood - you are the only one I ever saw. You are the brother of the man who gave - me life—such as it is—and, for aught I know, you may even - resemble him. I have been in great trouble over the revelations you made - recently, but all that has burned itself to a cinder within me, and I have - determined to go back up there in the mountains and face it. But that - isn't all. Certain investments I have made in the past are turning out - money in the most prodigal manner. The amount I am offering you is a mere - trifle to what I have made in one single transfer of property to-day. I - sincerely want you to take it. It would give me great joy to help you, - and, if you refuse, it will pain me more than I can say. We are not - relatives before the world, but we are by ties of nature, and I pity you - to-night as I never pitied any human being in my life.” - </p> - <p> - “My God! my God!” The old man struggled again to his feet, his eyes - avoiding Nelson's earnest stare. “Wait here. Keep your seat, sir. Let me - think. I can't take your money without making a return for it. Let me - think.” He tottered to the door, opened it, and passed out into the hall. - There Nelson heard him striding back and forth for several minutes. - Presently he came back. He was walking more erectly. There was in his eyes - a flitting gleam of hope. Approaching, he laid a quivering hand on - Nelson's shoulder. “I have thought of a plan,” he said, almost eagerly. - “Your partner in business, Mr.—Mr. Mayhew, came down here looking - for you, and he told me how my unpleasant disclosure had unstrung you, - upset your prospects, and caused you to leave home. Now, see here. It has - just occurred to me that I am actually the only living individual who - knows the—the true facts about your birth and your father's life. - Now here is what I can and will do—you see, what <i>I</i> say, what - <i>I</i> testify to during my lifetime will stand always. I am willing to - take that—that money, if you will let me give you sworn papers, - showing that it was all a mistake, and that your parents were actually man - and wife. This could harm no one, and it would be only justice to you.” - </p> - <p> - Nelson stood up suddenly. It was as if a great light had suddenly burst - over him. His blood bounded through his veins. - </p> - <p> - “You will do that?” he cried—“to?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and not a living soul could ever contradict it,” the old man said, - eagerly. “I can put into your hands indisputable proof. More than that, - I'll write up to Mayhew and Duncan in your neighborhood and show the - matter in a thoroughly new light.” - </p> - <p> - The eyes of the two men met. For a moment there was silence in the room so - profound that the flame of the lamp made an audible sound like the drone - of an imprisoned insect. The old man was the first to speak. - </p> - <p> - “What do you say?” he asked, almost gleefully, and he rubbed his palms - together till the dry skin emitted a low, rasping sound. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly Nelson sank back into his chair and covered his face with his - hands. - </p> - <p> - “What do you say?” repeated the old man; “surely you won't re—” - </p> - <p> - He was interrupted by Nelson, who suddenly looked up, and with a frank - stare into the old man's face he said, calmly: - </p> - <p> - “No, I can't be a party to that, Mr. Floyd. I fully understand all it - would mean to me before the world, but I am not willing to bear the stamp - of a lie, no matter how justifiable it may seem, all through life. A man - can enjoy being only what he really is, either high or low. No, sir, I - appreciate your willingness to help me, but you can't do it that way.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, you—you can't mean to refuse!” old Floyd gasped. - </p> - <p> - “I <i>have</i> to,” said the young man. “As for the real dishonesty of the - thing, I might as well be any other sort of impostor. No, I want to be - only what I am in this world. Besides, I can't be a party to your swearing - a lie. No, I'll have to decline.” - </p> - <p> - “Then—then,” the old man groaned—“then I can't take your - money.” - </p> - <p> - “But you'll have to,” Nelson smiled, sadly. “I can <i>make</i> you do it. - I'll give you no other recourse. I shall simply instruct the bank in the - morning to place it to your credit and charge it to my account. If you - don't draw it out, neither you nor I will get the benefit of it, for I - shall never touch it again.” - </p> - <p> - Taking his hat, Nelson moved towards the door, followed by the tottering, - faintly protesting old man. And as he was leaving the last words the - visitor heard were: “I can't take it, sir. I can't take money from you, as - bad as I need it. I can't—I can't!” - </p> - <p> - When Nelson Floyd reached the hotel it was eleven o'clock. He found Pole - seated in the dark at an open window, his coat and shoes off. He was - smoking. - </p> - <p> - “Well, here you are,” was the mountaineer's greeting. “I was sorter - sleepy, but I wanted to hear what you done, so I run down an' got me a - nickel cigar. Then I've put in my time watchin' the folks in the street. - I'll be dadblasted ef thar ain't as many night-hawks on the wing now as - thar was jest after supper.” - </p> - <p> - Nelson threw off his coat and hat and sat down and recounted briefly all - that had taken place at Floyd's, Pole smoking thoughtfully the while. When - Nelson ceased speaking Pole rose and began to undress. - </p> - <p> - “So the blamed old codger talked like he wasn't goin' to draw the money, - eh?” he said. “Well, that sorter upsets me; I can't exactly make it out, - Nelson. I'll have to think that over. It ain't what I expected him to do. - I thought he'd pounce on it like a duck on a June-bug. No, that's quar, I - tell you—powerful quar!” - </p> - <p> - They had been in bed perhaps two hours and Floyd was asleep, when - something waked him and he lay still, listening. Then, looking through the - darkness, he saw Pole sitting on the edge of his bed, his feet on the - floor. - </p> - <p> - “It ain't no use,” Floyd heard him muttering; “I can't sleep—thar - ain't no good in tryin'.” - </p> - <p> - “What's the reason you can't sleep?” Floyd asked, suddenly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” Pole exclaimed, “I didn't know you was awake. I heard you breathin' - deep an' natural jest a minute ago.” - </p> - <p> - “But why can't you sleep?” Floyd repeated. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know, Nelson,” Pole answered, sheepishly. “Don't you bother. Turn - over an' git yore rest. I reckon I'm studyin' too much. Thar's nothin' on - earth that will keep a feller awake like studyin'. I hain't closed my - eyes. I've been lyin' here wonderin' an' wonderin' why that old cuss - didn't want to take that money.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, he simply didn't feel like accepting it from a—a stranger and - a man he had treated coldly, and perhaps too severely, on a former - meeting. You see, he felt unworthy—” - </p> - <p> - “Unworthy hell! That ain't it—you kin bet yore socks that ain't it! - That <i>sort</i> o' man, in the hole he's in, ain't a-goin' to split hairs - like that, when he's on the brink o' ruin an' ready to commit suicide. No, - siree, you'll have to delve deeper into human nature than that. Looky' - here, Nelson. I'm on to a certain thing to-night fer the fust time. Why - didn't you tell me before this that Henry A. Floyd got his start in life - by a plantation left him by his daddy?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I thought you knew it!” Floyd said, sleepily. “But what's that got - to do with his not wanting to take the money?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know,” Pole said. “I'll have to study on it. You turn over an' - git that nap out. Yo're a-yawnin' fit to bust that night-shirt.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XXXIX - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was about eight - o'clock the next morning when Floyd waked. The first thing he saw was Pole - seated in the window chewing tobacco. He was fully dressed, had shaved, - and wore a new white shirt and collar that glistened like porcelain in the - morning sun; he had on also a new black cravat which he had tied very - clumsily. - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious, have you been waiting for me?” Floyd cried, as he sprang - out of bed and looked at his watch. - </p> - <p> - “Not much I hain't,” the mountaineer smiled. “I was up at my usual time, - at sunrise. I struck a restaurant and got me some fried eggs an' coffee, - an' then walked half over this dern town.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm sorry you've had your breakfast,” Floyd said, “for I wanted you - to go down with me.” - </p> - <p> - “No, thankee”—Pole shrugged his shoulders and smiled—“I tried - that last night in yore place, an' thar was so many niggers in burial - suits standin' round that big room that it looked like resurrection day in - a coon graveyard. The damned idiots stared at me as ef they thought I'd - blowed in off'n a load o' hay. They passed me from one to t'other like - coals o' fire on a shovel till they landed me in a corner whar nobody - wouldn't see me.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd laughed. “You are all right, Pole; don't you ever let that fact - escape you.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you think so, Nelson? Well, anyway, a biggity nigger waiter tried to - take me down once when I was here, about a year ago. I'd heard a good deal - o' talk about that fine eatin'-room down the street whar only the big Ikes - git the'r grub, an', wantin' a snack, I drapped in an' hung up my hat. The - head coon tuck me to a table whar some other fellows was eatin', an' - another one made me a present of a handkerchief an' shoved a card under my - nose. The card had lots o' Dutch on it, an' I was kinder flustered, but as - the nigger looked like he understood our language, I told 'im to never - mind the printin' but to fetch me two fried eggs an' a cup o' coffee an' - free bread, ef he had it, an' ef not to charge it in the bill. Well, sir, - after I'd give the order, the coon still stood thar, tryin' his level best - to turn up his flat nose; so I axed 'im what he was waitin' fer, an' he - sneered an' axed me ef that was all I expected to eat. I told 'im it was, - an', with a grin at the coon at the next table, he shuffled off. Well, you - know, I was hot under the collar, an' I seed that the other men at the - table looked like they was with me, though they didn't chip in. Purty soon - my waiter come back with my order, an', with a sniff, he set it down. It - looked like he thought jest to be a lackey in a fine house like that was - next to wearin' wings an' flyin' over golden streets. He axed me ag'in ef - that was all I wanted, an' when I said it was he give another sniff, an' - drawed out a pad an' writ down twenty-five cents on it in great big - figures, an' tore off the leaf an' drapped it in front o' my plate. - 'Mighty small bill,' he said. 'Yes,' said I, 'that order 'ud 'a' cost - fifty cents in a <i>fust-class</i> place, but I was busy an' didn't have - time to go any furder.' Well, sir, them men in front o' me jest hollered. - They banged on the table with the'r knives an' plates, an' yelled till - everybody in the room stood up to see what was the matter. One big, fat, - jolly-faced man with a red, bushy mustache in front of me re'ched his paw - clean across the table an' said: 'Put 'er thar, white man; damn it, put - 'er thar!' I tuck a drink with 'im when we went out. He tried to buy me a - five-dollar hat to remember 'im by, but I wouldn't take it.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd laughed heartily. He had finished dressing. “Did you finally get it - settled in your mind, Pole, why that old man didn't want to take my check - last night?” - </p> - <p> - “Thar's a lots o' things I've got to git settled in my mind,” was the - somewhat evasive reply. “I told you I was goin' to take the ten-thirty - train fer Darley, but I ain't a-goin' a step till I've seed a little - furder into this business. Looky' here, Nelson Floyd, fer a man that's had - as much dealin's with men in all sorts o' ways as you have, you are - a-actin' quar.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand you.” Floyd had put his hand on the latch to open the - door, but, seeing his friend's serious face, he went back to the window - wondering what Pole was driving at. - </p> - <p> - “You say,” said Pole, “that Henry A. Floyd came into his plantation at his - daddy's death?” - </p> - <p> - “That's my impression, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - The mountaineer went to the cuspidor near the washstand and spat - deliberately into it; then he came back wiping his lips on his long hand. - </p> - <p> - “An' when the old man died he jest had two sons—yore daddy an' this - one here?” Pole said, tentatively, his heavy brows drawn together. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that's right, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Nelson”—the mountaineer was staring steadily at his friend—“I - make a rule never to judge a person too quick, but whar I see a motive fer - evil in a man that ain't plumb straight, I generally find some'n' - crooked.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm sure I don't understand you, Pole,” Floyd said, his eyes wide in - curiosity. - </p> - <p> - Pole stepped near to Floyd and laid his hand on his arm. - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to tell me, as keen and sharp as you are, that you tuck that - old skunk's word about a matter as important as that is, when he come into - property from yore granddaddy—property that 'ud be part yore'n as - his brother's son? Shucks! I'm jest a mountain scrub, but I ain't as big a - fool as that. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I know!” said Floyd, wearily. “I suppose you are right, but I don't - care to go to law about a little handful of property like that; besides, - you know it would be my interest <i>only</i> in case I was a <i>lawful</i> - heir—don't forget that damnable fact, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm not thinkin' about the value of property, nuther,” said Baker; “but, - my boy, I am lookin' fer a <i>motive</i>—a motive fer rascality, an' - I think I've found one as big as a barn. I don't any more believe that - dirty tale old Floyd told you than I'd believe it about my old saint of a - mother.” - </p> - <p> - “But you don't know what he showed me, Pole,” Floyd sighed. “I never had - the heart to go over it thoroughly, but it was conclusive enough to draw a - black curtain over my whole life.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't care, Nelson,” Pole said, warmly. “I don't give a damn what he - said, or showed you. Thar's a big, rotten stench in Denmark, I'm here to - tell you; an' ef I don't squeeze the truth out o' that old turnip before - night I'll eat my hat. You go on an' git yore breakfast, an' let me map - out—” - </p> - <p> - There was rap on the door. Floyd opened it. A negro porter in uniform - stood on the threshold. - </p> - <p> - “A man down-stairs wants to see you, Mr. Floyd,” he announced. - </p> - <p> - “Did he give his name?” Nelson asked. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir, he didn't.” - </p> - <p> - “He's an old, white-headed, dingy-faced fellow, ain't he?” Pole put in. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” answered the servant. “He looks like he's sick.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you tell 'im to come up here,” said Pole, his face rigid, and his - eyes gleaming triumphantly. When the negro had gone the two friends stood - facing each other. “Nelson, my boy,” Pole said, tremulously, “I'm goin' to - stroll outside down the hall. I'd bet a full-blooded Kentucky mare to a - five-cent ginger-cake that you can run this whole rotten business up a - tree if you will play your cards exactly right. Looky' here, Nelson, I've - changed my mind about goin' out o' this room. Thar's entirely too much at - stake to leave you with the reins to hold. You are too touchy on a certain - delicate subject—you'll take a lot o' guff rather than ask - questions. I wish you'd go out and let me meet that man fust.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll do anything you suggest, Pole,” Floyd declared, his face twitching - sensitively. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you skoot into that empty room next door. I seed it open when I - come up. Let me have the old codger to myself fer jest five minutes and - then I'll turn 'im over to you. Hurry up! I don't want 'im to see you - here.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd acted instantly, Pole heard the door of the adjoining room close - just as the elevator stopped at the floor they were on. - </p> - <p> - “Good,” he ejaculated. He threw himself back in a chair and had just - picked up a newspaper when old Floyd cautiously peered in at the half-open - door. - </p> - <p> - “Come in, come in, Mr. Floyd,” Pole said, cordially. “Early bird, ain't - you?” - </p> - <p> - “They told me Mr. Floyd was here,” the old man said, awkwardly, as he - stepped inside and glanced around the room. He was, in the open daylight, - even paler and more despondent-looking than he had appeared the previous - evening. In his hand he held Nelson's check folded and clutched tightly. - </p> - <p> - “He's jest gone out,” Pole said, indicating a chair, “set down; he'll be - back here in a minute.” - </p> - <p> - “I—I thought he was up here alone,” the old man stammered. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it don't make no difference,” Pole smiled, easily, “me'n' Nelson's - jest like two brothers. You see, what one knows the other does. The truth - is, me'n' him work together, Mr. Floyd, an' I've been investigatin' that - case about his mammy an' daddy fer sometime. I run the whole thing down - yesterday, an' come in an' told 'im about it last night after he'd got - back from yore house. By gum! the boy broke down an' cried like a child - fer pure joy. It would 'a' done you good to 'a' seed 'im. That was an' - awfully nasty thing fer a proud young sperit to stand up under, an' you - bet gittin' it off was a relief.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean—” The old man sank heavily into a chair, but he could go - no further. He stared helplessly into Pole's inscrutable face, and then - his shifting eyes fell guiltily. - </p> - <p> - “Why, you see,” Pole smiled, plausibly; “all I wanted was a clew to start - from, an' after nosin' about whar Nelson's daddy had lived I at last - discovered that he was part heir to that property o' yore'n, then, you - see, the whole shootin'-match was as clear as a wart on the side of my own - nose. The next discovery was the marriage record, an' then I had the whole - thing in apple-pie order. You needn't set thar an' look scared out o' yore - skin, Mr. Floyd. Nelson 'ud have his right arm sawed off at the - shoulder-joint rather'n prosecute you. He told me last night that he'd - stand by you. He's got money to burn, an' he'll never let his daddy's - brother suffer. He told me jest this mornin'—'Pole,' said he, 'I - don't believe Uncle Henry would 'a' kept this back so long ef he hadn't - been mighty nigh out o' his head with his own troubles.” - </p> - <p> - “God knows I wouldn't! God knows that!” sobbed the old man, impulsively. - “I meant to tell him the truth the day I met you and told you he was my - nephew, but I had a sick spell, and I got to worrying about the little all - I had for my old age. I thought you were prying into matters, too, and - knew that any question about the titles would make my creditors jump on - me, and—” - </p> - <p> - “I see, I see!” said Pole. Indifference was in his voice, but his rugged - face was afire, his great, eager eyes were illumined by a blaze of - triumph. “I reckon the proof you showed him was forgery, Mr. Floyd, but of - a harmless kind that most any man in trouble naturally would—” - </p> - <p> - “No, those letters were not forgeries,” broke in the old man. “They were - really my brother's, but they related to his life with another woman. When - their child died, she deserted him for another man. My brother came home - broken-hearted, but he finally got over it, and married a nice girl of - good family. She was Nelson's mother. In my great trouble, and facing - ruin, it struck me that the letters would convince the boy and he would - keep quiet and not put in a claim until—until I could see my way out—but - now, you say he knows it all.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, an' is so happy over it, Mr. Floyd, that instead o' givin' you - trouble, he'll throw his arms around you. God bless you, old hoss, you've - been denyin' the finest member yore family ever had. I reckon you can turn - over to him sufficient proof”—Pole drew himself up with a start—“proof, - I mean, that will, you see, sort o' splice in with all I've run up on—proof - that he is legally yore nephew.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, plenty!” the old man said, almost eagerly; “and I'll get it up at - once. I've brought his check back,” he unfolded it and held it in his - quivering hands. “I couldn't take money from him after treating him as I - have.” - </p> - <p> - Pole laughed outright. “You keep that check, old man,” he said. “Nelson - Floyd will cram it down yore throat ef you won't take it any other way. I - tell you he's jest tickled to death. He thinks the world and all of you - because you are the only kin he ever laid eyes on. Now, you stay right - whar you are an' I'll send 'im to you. He's not fur off.” - </p> - <p> - Hurrying into the next room, Pole saw Floyd standing at a window looking - out into the street, a touch of his old despondency on him. He caught - Pole's triumphant smile and stood with lips parted in suspense. - </p> - <p> - “It's jest as I told you, my boy,” the mountaineer said, with a chuckle. - “He's owned up to the whole blasted thing. You've got as good a right to - vote in America as any man in it.” - </p> - <p> - “Good God, Pole, you don't mean—” - </p> - <p> - “You go in thar an' he'll tell you all about it.” Pole continued to smile. - </p> - <p> - “You say he has actually confessed of his own accord?” Floyd cried, - incredulously. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I <i>did</i> sorter have to lead 'im along a little,” Pole laughed. - “To unlock his jaws, I told 'im me 'n' you already knowed the facts, so - you might as well take that stand, give 'im plenty o' rope an' let 'im - tell you all about it. But don't be hard on 'im, Nelson; the pore old cuss - wanted to do the fair thing but was pressed to the wall by circumstances - an' devilish men.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank God, Pole, thank God!” Floyd cried. “I can hardly believe it's - true.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it is, all right enough,” Baker assured him. “Now, I'm goin' to - catch the ten-thirty train. I want to git home before you do, an' git this - thing circulated—so nobody won't snub you an' feel bad about it - afterwards. I'll strike old Mrs. Snodgrass the fust thing. She is editor - of the <i>Hill-top Whirlwind</i>, an' will have an extra out ten minutes - after I land containin' full particulars. Fer once I'm goin' to put her to - a good use. She'll certainly make the rounds, an' as I don't want the old - thing to walk 'er props off, I'll lend 'er a hoss. But I'll tell you what - I'd like fer you to do, Nelson, an' I almost ax it as a favor.” - </p> - <p> - “What's that, Pole?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I want you to take that old chap under yore wing to-day an' git 'im - out o' the clutch o' them shyster lawyers that's got 'im scared to death.” - </p> - <p> - “You may rest assured that I'll do that,” Floyd said, as he hurried away. - </p> - <p> - A moment later, as Pole was passing Nelson's room to reach the main - stairway, he glanced through the open door. Old Floyd sat with bowed head, - wiping his eyes on his handkerchief, and his nephew stood by him, his hand - resting on his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XL - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HREE days later, - towards sundown, as Pole was about to enter Floyd & Mayhew's store, - the old man came from! behind one of the counters and, with a smile of - welcome, caught his arm and drew him to the edge of the sidewalk. - </p> - <p> - “I am not much of a hand to talk on any subject, Pole,” he said. “But - there is something I've got to say to you, and it comes from the heart.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, ef it ain't a dun I'll be glad to hear it,” Pole smiled. “When I - fust catched sight of you, it flashed over me that ef I didn't make - another payment on that debt you'd have to take my farm. But I'm gettin' - on my feet now, Mr. Mayhew, an'—” - </p> - <p> - “I'll never bother you on that score,” the merchant said, impulsively. “I - was just about to tell you that I am deeply grateful for what you did for - Nelson. Oh, he's told me all about it!” The old man held up his hand and - stopped Pole, who was on the point of decrying his part in the matter in - question. “Yes, he told me all you did, Baker, and I don't actually - believe any other man in the whole state could have worked it so fine; and - the boy's coming back here, Pole, has been my financial salvation. I - couldn't have kept on here, and it would have killed me to see the old - business fall to pieces.” - </p> - <p> - “You bet, I'm glad he's back, too,” Pole returned. “An' he's happy over - it, ain't he, Mr. Mayhew?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, there's the trouble, Baker!” the old man sighed. “It looks like, with - all that has come his way of late, that he would be satisfied, but he - isn't—he simply isn't. Baker, I think I see what's lacking.” - </p> - <p> - “You think you do, Mr. Mayhew?” Pole leaned forward anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I believe it's due to Nathan Porter's daughter. God knows she's the - very girl for him. She's one woman that I admire with all my heart. - Nelson's got sense; he sees her good qualities, and wants her, but the - report is out that her and Hillhouse are courting down at Cartersville. - The preacher's had two weeks' extension on his vacation, and they tell me - he is cutting a wide swath. Folks down there are raving over his bright - sermons, and naturally that will flatter and influence a woman's judgment. - Besides, I really believe the average woman would rather marry a mountain - circuit-rider on three hundred a year than a man in easy circumstances in - any other calling.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know as to that,” Pole said, evasively. “Nobody kin pick an' - choose fer a woman. Ef I had a dozen gals I'd keep my mouth shet on the - husband line. That's old man Dickey's policy, over at Darley; he has ten - gals that he says has married men in every line o' business under the sun. - The last one come to 'im an' declared she wanted to marry a tight-rope - walker that was exhibitin' in the streets. That sorter feazed the old - chap, and he told the gal that her husband never could rise but jest so - high in the world an' was shore to come down sooner or later, but she was - the doctor an' to go ahead. Even <i>that</i> marriage turned out all - right, fer one day the chap, all in stars an' spangles an' women's - stockin's, fell off'n of a rope forty feet from the ground. He struck a - load o' hay an' broke his fall, but on his way down he seed the sale sign - of a grocery across the street an' bought the business, an' now Dickey's - gettin' his supplies at wholesale prices.” - </p> - <p> - Turning from the old man, Pole passed the clerks and a few customers in - the store and went back to Floyd's desk, where his friend sat writing. - </p> - <p> - “Got yore workin' gear on I see,” he observed, with a smile. “You look - busy.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd pointed to a stack of account-books on the desk and smiled. “The old - man got these in an awful mess,” he said. “But I am getting them straight - at last.” - </p> - <p> - “How's business?” Pole asked. - </p> - <p> - “In the store, pretty good,” Floyd answered; “but as for my own part, I'm - busy on the outside. I closed a nice deal yesterday, Pole. You remember - the offer I made Price for his plantation, furnished house, and everything - else on the place?” - </p> - <p> - “You bet.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, he came to my terms. The property is mine at last, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “Gee whiz! what a purty investment! It's a little fortune, my boy.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it's the sort of thing I've wanted for a long time,” Floyd returned. - “Most men have their hobbies, and mine has always been to possess a model - farm that I could keep up to the highest notch of perfection for my own - pleasure and as an inspiration to my neighbors.” - </p> - <p> - “Bully, bully place, Nelson! You'll always be proud of it.” - </p> - <p> - “There's only one drawback,” said Floyd; “you see, it will never suit me - to live there myself, and so I've got to get a sharp manager that I can - trust.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah yes, you bet you have!” Pole declared. - </p> - <p> - “And such a man is hard to find, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh, I should think so!” the farmer answered. “Captain Duncan told me he - fell behind three thousand dollars in one year all on account of his - manager being careless while nobody was there to watch 'im. - </p> - <p> - “He never paid his man enough,” Nelson said. “I shall not follow that - plan. I'm going to pay my superintendent a good, stiff salary, so as to - make it interesting to him. Pole, there is only one man alive that I'd - trust that place to.” - </p> - <p> - Pole stared in a bewildered way. Floyd was leading him beyond his depth. - </p> - <p> - “You say thar ain't, Nelson?” was all he could say. - </p> - <p> - “And that man is you, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “Me? Good Lord, you are plumb cracked—you are a-jokin', Nelson.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I never was more serious in my life. If I can't get you to take that - place in hand for me, I shall sell it to the first bidder. Pole, I'm - depending on you. The salary is three thousand a year, rent of the house - free, and all the land you want for your own use thrown in.” - </p> - <p> - “Three thousand! Geewhilikins,” Pole laughed. - </p> - <p> - “I'd be a purty lookin' chump drawin' that much of any man's money.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll draw that much of mine,” Floyd said, looking him straight in the - eye, “and you will make me the best financial return for it of any man in - the world.” - </p> - <p> - “That's ridiculous, Nelson, you are plumb, stark crazy!” Pole was really - frowning in displeasure over he hardly knew what. - </p> - <p> - “No, I'm not crazy, either,” Floyd pursued, laying his hand on the - farmer's shoulder. “You've often said that I have a good head for - business, well—that's exactly what's causing me to make you this - proposition.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a liar, an' you know it!” Pole growled. “You know you are a-doin' - it beca'se you want to help me'n' my family, and, by the holy smoke, I - won't let you. Thar! I'm flat-footed on that! <i>I won't let you</i>. - Friendship is one thing an' takin' money from a friend is some'n' else. - It's low down, I'm here to tell you. It's low down, even ef a body is on - the ragged edge o' poverty, fer ever' man ort to work fer hisse'f.” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Pole, I get out of patience with you sometimes,” Floyd said, - earnestly. “Now, answer this: don't you know that if you <i>did</i> accept - my offer that you would not let my interests suffer wilfully?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course I do, damn it!” Pole retorted, almost angrily. “Ef I was - workin' fer you in <i>any</i> capacity I'd wear my fingers to the bone to - do what was right by you.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, there you are!” Floyd cried, triumphantly. “Wouldn't I be a pretty - fool not to try to employ you, when not one man in ten thousand will be - that conscientious? You've answered yourself, Pole. I'm going to have you - on that job if I have to double the pay.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you won't git me, that's certain!” Pole retorted. “You are offerin' - it to me fer no other reason than that we are friends, an' I'll be damned - ef I take it.” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Pole Baker,” Floyd smiled, as he left his high stool, locked - his arm in that of his companion, and drew him to the open door in the - rear. “You have several times given me lectures that have done me more - solid good than all the sermons I ever heard, and it's my time now.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, shoot away!” Pole laughed. “The truth is, I feel derned mean - about some o' the things I've said to you when I look back on 'em.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you've shown me many of my biggest faults, Pole, and I am going to - dangle one of yours before your eyes. I've seen you, my friend, take money - that your reason told you was needed by your wife and children, whom you - love devotedly, and, in a sort of false pride, I've seen you spend it on - men of the lowest order. You did it under the mistaken notion that it was - your time to treat. In other words, you seemed possessed with the idea - that you owed that crowd more than you did that tender, trusting little - woman and her children.” - </p> - <p> - “Damn it, you needn't remind me of that, Nelson Floyd! I know that as well - as any man alive!” Pole's face was full, and his voice husky with - suppressed emotion. - </p> - <p> - “I know you know it, Pole, and here is something else you'll have to - admit, and that is, that you are this minute refusing something that would - fairly fill your wife with happiness, and you are doing it under the - damnably false notion that such deals should not be made between friends. - Why, man, friends are the only persons who ought to have intimate business - relations. It is only friends who can work for mutual benefit.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I can't argue with you,” Pole said, stubbornly, and he turned - suddenly and walked down through the store to the front. Floyd was - watching him, and saw him pause on the edge of the sidewalk, his head - down, as if in deep meditation. He was a pathetic-looking figure as he - stood with the red sunset sky behind him, his face flushed, his hair - thrown back from his massive brow. - </p> - <p> - Taking his hat, Floyd went out and took him by the arm, and together they - strolled down the street in the direction of Pole's farm. Presently Floyd - said: “Surely you are not going to go back on me, Pole. I want you, and I - want you bad.” - </p> - <p> - “Thar's one thing you reminded me of in thar at the desk,” Pole said, in a - low, shaky voice, “and it is this: Nelson, the little woman I married - hain't never had one single hour o' puore joy since the day I tuck 'er - from her daddy's house. Lord, Lord, Nelson, ef I could—ef I <i>jest - could</i> go home to 'er now an' tell 'er I'd got a lift in the world like - that the joy of it 'ud mighty nigh kill 'er.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Pole”—Floyd suddenly drew him around till they stood face to - face—“<i>you do it</i>. Do you hear me? <i>You do it</i>. If you - don't, you will be taking an unfair advantage of a helpless woman. It's - her right, Pole. You haven't a word to say in the matter. The house will - be vacant to-morrow. Move her in, Pole; move the little woman in and make - her happy.” - </p> - <p> - The eyes of the two men met. Pole took a deep, lingering breath, then he - held out his hand. - </p> - <p> - “I'll go you, Nelson,” he said; “and ef I don't make that investment pay, - I'll hang myself to the limb of a tree. Gee whiz! won't Sally be tickled!” - </p> - <p> - They parted; Floyd turned back towards the village, and Pole went on - homeward with a quick, animated step. Floyd paused at the roadside and - looked after him through the gathering dusk. - </p> - <p> - “He's happy, and so will his wife be,” he said to himself. “But as for me, - that's another matter. She's going to marry Hillhouse. Great God, how - strange that seems! Cynthia and that man living together as man and wife!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XLI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was almost dark - when Pole reached his humble domicile. The mountain air was cool, and - through the front window of the living-room he saw the flare of a big, - cheerful fire. He went into the house, but his wife was not in sight. - Looking into the bedroom, he saw the children sound asleep, their yellow - heads all in a row. - </p> - <p> - “God bless 'em!” he said, fervently. “I reckon the'r mammy's down at the - barn.” Going out at the back-door, he went to the cow-lot, and then he - heard Sally's voice rising above the squealing of pigs and the cackling of - hens. “So, so, Lil! can't you behave?” he heard her saying. “I git out o' - all patience. I can't keep the brat out. I might as well give up, an' yet - we've <i>got</i> to have milk.” - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter, Sally?” Pole called out, as he looked over the - rail-fence. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I can't keep this fool calf away,” she said, turning to him, her tin - pail in her hand, her face red with vexation. “The little imp is stealin' - all the milk. He's had enough already to bust 'im wide open.” - </p> - <p> - Pole laughed merrily; there was much stored in his mind to make him - joyous. “Let me git at the dern little skunk,” he said; and vaulting over - the fence with the agility of an acrobat, he took the sleek, fawnlike - creature in his strong arms and stood holding it against his breast as if - it were an infant. “That's the way to treat 'im?” he cried. And carrying - the animal to the fence, he dropped it on the outside. “Thar, you scamp!” - he laughed; “you mosey around out here in the tater-patch till you l'arn - some table manners.” - </p> - <p> - Sally laughed and looked at her husband proudly. “I'm glad you come when - you did,” she said, “fer you wouldn't 'a' had any milk to go on yore mush; - me'n' the childem have had our supper an' they are tucked away in bed.” - </p> - <p> - “Let me finish milkin',” Pole said. “An' you go in an' git my mush ready.” - He took the pail and sat down on an inverted soap-box. “I'll make up fer - that calf's stealin' or I'll have old Lil's bag as flabby as an empty - meal-sack.” - </p> - <p> - In a few minutes he followed Sally into the kitchen where she had his - simple supper ready for him. When he had eaten it, he led her into the - living-room and they sat down before the fire. It was only for a moment, - though, for she heard little Billy talking in his sleep and sprang up and - went to him. She came back to her chair in a moment. - </p> - <p> - “The very fust spare money I git,” she said, “I'm goin' to have panes o' - glass put in that window in thar. I keep old rags stuffed in the holes, - but the rain beats 'em down, and hard winds blow 'em out. It don't take as - much fire-wood to keep a tight house warm as it does an open one like - this.” - </p> - <p> - “Sally, we ought to live in a great big fine house,” he said, his eyes on - the coals under the red logs. - </p> - <p> - “I say!” she sneered. “I've been afeard some'n' mought happen to drive us - out o' this 'un. Pole, to tell the truth, I've been worryin'.” - </p> - <p> - “You say you have, Sally?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I worry all day, an' sometimes I wake up in the night an' lie unable - to sleep fer thinkin'. I'm bothered about the debt you owe Floyd & - Mayhew. It's drawin' interest an' climbin' higher an' higher. I know well - enough that Nelson wouldn't push us, but, Pole, ef he was to happen to - die, his business would have to be settled up, an' they say Mr. Mayhew - hain't one speck o' mercy on pore folks. When it was reported that some'n' - had happened to Nelson a while back, I was mighty nigh out o' my head with - worry, but I didn't tell you. Pole, we've got to git free o' that debt by - some hook or crook.” - </p> - <p> - “I think we kin manage it,” Pole said, his eyes kindling with a subtle - glow. - </p> - <p> - “That's the way you always talk,” Mrs. Baker sighed; “but that isn't - payin' us out.” - </p> - <p> - “It comes easy to some folks to make money,” Pole said, with seeming - irrelevance; “an' hard to others. Sally, did you ever—have you ever - been on Colonel Price's plantation?” - </p> - <p> - “Many and many a time, Pole,” Mrs. Baker answered, with a reminiscent glow - in her face. “When I was a girl, he used to let our crowd have picnics at - his big spring, just below the house, and one rainy day he invited some of - us all through it. It was the only time I was ever in as fine a house as - that an' it tuck my breath away. Me'n' Lillie Turnbull slipped into the - big parlor by ourselves and set down an' made out like we lived thar an' - was entertainin' company. She'd rock back an' forth in one o' the big - chairs an' pretend she was a fine lady. She was a great mimic, an' she'd - call out like thar was servants all around, an' order 'em to fetch 'er - cool water an' fan 'er an' the like. Poor Lillie! the last I heard of her - she was beggin' bread fer her childern over at Gainesville whar Ned was - killed in an' explosion at the cotton-mill whar he'd finally got work. - </p> - <p> - “I jest started to tell you,” Pole said, “that Nelson Floyd bought that - plantation to-day—bought it lock, stock, an' barrel—house, - furniture, hosses, implements—everythin'!” - </p> - <p> - “You don't say!” Mrs. Baker leaned forward, her eyes wide in surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he tuck it in out o' the wet with part o' the money he made on that - Atlanta deal. An' do you know, Sally, I was right thar in the back end o' - his store an' heard 'im contract with a man to manage it fer 'im. The - feller is to git three thousand dollars a year in cash—two hundred - an' fifty dollars a month, mind you, an' also the use of the big furnished - house, an' as much land fer himself as he needed, the use of the buggies - an' carriage an' spring-wagon an' barn—in fact, the whole blamed - lay-out. He axed me about hirin' the feller an' I told 'im the dem skunk - wasn't wuth his salt, but Nelson would have his way. He engaged 'im on the - spot.” - </p> - <p> - “Who was the man, Pole?” there was just a shade of heart-sick envy in the - tired countenance of the woman. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it was a feller that come up from Atlanta about three days ago,” Pole - answered, with his usual readiness. “It seems that him an' Nelson was - sorter friends, an' had had dealin's in one way an' another before.” - </p> - <p> - “Has this—this new man any wife?” Mrs. Baker inquired, as a further - evidence of secret reflections. - </p> - <p> - “Yes—a fine woman, and nice childem, Sally. He seemed to be the only - scrub in the bunch.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Baker sighed. “I guess he's got some'n' in 'im,” she said, her eyes - cast down, “or Nelson Floyd, with his eye for business, wouldn't 'a' give - 'im a mansion like that to live in an' all them wages. He must be an - educated man, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “No he ain't,” Pole smiled; “he barely kin read an' write an' figure a - little; that's all. Sally, the feller's a-settin' right here in this room - now. I'm the manager o' that big place, Sally.” - </p> - <p> - She laughed as if to humor him, and then she raised her eyes to his. - “Pole,” she said, in a cold, hard voice, “don't joke about a thing like - that. Somehow I don't believe that men who joke about doin' well, as es ef - the like was clean out o' the'r reach, ever do make money; it's them that - say what one kin do another kin that make the'r way.” - </p> - <p> - “But I wasn't jokin', little woman.” Pole caught her hand and pressed it. - “As God is my judge, I'm the man, an' you' an' me an' the childern are - a-goin' to move into that fine house right off.” - </p> - <p> - For a moment she stared into his face incredulously, and then gradually - the truth dawned upon her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Pole,” she cried. “I can't stand it—it will <i>kill</i> me!” - and with a great sob the little woman burst into tears. He tried to stop - her, his rough hand on her frail, thin back, but her emotion swept through - her like a storm. Suddenly she raised a wet, glowing face to his, and, - with her sun-browned hand pressed tightly on her breast, she cried: “It - hurts; it hurts right here—oh, Pole, I'm afraid it will kill me!” - </p> - <p> - In a few moments she was calmer, and as she sat in the red fire-light all - aglow with her new happiness, she was a revelation to him. Not for years - had he seen her look that way. She seemed young again. The marks of - sorrow, poverty, and carking fear had dropped from her. Her eyes had the - glisten of bedewed youth, her voice the vibrant ring of unquenchable joy. - Suddenly she stood up. - </p> - <p> - “What you goin' to do?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “To wake the childern an' tell 'em,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “I don't believe I would, Sally,” he protested. - </p> - <p> - “But I am—I <i>am!</i>” she insisted. “Do you reckon I'm goin' to - let them pore little things lie thar an' not know it—not know it - till mornin'?” - </p> - <p> - He let her have her way, and walked out on the little porch and slowly - down to the barn. Suddenly he stretched out his hands and held them up - towards the stars, and took a deep, reverent breath. - </p> - <p> - “I wish I'd l'arnt to pray when I was a boy,” he said, lowering his arms. - “Somehow I feel like I've at last come through. I've come from the shadow - of the Valley of Death out into God's eternal light. Then I'd like to put - in a word at the Throne fer Nelson. Ef I knowed how to say it, I'd beg the - Almighty to turn Hillhouse down. Hillhouse kin git 'im another one, but - Nelson never kin—never in this world! He hain't got that look in the - eyes. He's got a case o' woman as bad as I have, an' that's sayin' a - lots.” - </p> - <p> - Pole turned and slowly retraced his steps. Going in and sitting down by - the fire again, he heard his wife's voice rising and falling in a sweet - monotone. After a while she ceased speaking and came back to the fire. - </p> - <p> - “So you had to wake 'em,” he said, tenderly, very tenderly, as if his soul - had melted into words. - </p> - <p> - “I tried, Pole, but I couldn't,” she made answer. “I shuck 'em an' shuck - 'em. I even tuck little Billy up an' rolled 'im over an' over, but he was - too dead tired to wake. So I give up.” - </p> - <p> - “But I heard you talkin',” Pole said, wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I had to talk to somebody, Pole, an'—well, I was a-tellin' - 'em. They was asleep, but I was a-tellin' 'em.” - </p> - <p> - She sat down by him. “I ain't a-goin' to close my eyes to-night,” she went - on, softly; “but what does it matter? I reckon thar won't be no sleepin' - in heaven, an' that's whar I am right now, Pole.” - </p> - <p> - She put the side of her flushed face down on his knee and looked into the - fire. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - XLII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE following - evening about eight o'clock Floyd walked over to Baker's house. He found - his friend seated alone before a big fire of red logs. “Hello! Come in, - Nelson,” Pole called out, cordially, as he saw the young man through the - open door-way. “Come in an' set down.” - </p> - <p> - The young merchant entered and took a vacant chair. - </p> - <p> - “How's your wife, Pole?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Huh, crazy, crazy—crazy as a bed-bug!” Baker laughed. “You'd think - so ef you could see 'er. She spent all the evenin' at yore plantation, an' - come home beamin' all over with what she's seed an' her plans.” The farmer - jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen. “She's in thar - packin' up scraps now. She knows we can't leave till day after to-morrow, - but she says she wants to be doin' some'n' towards it, even ef she has to - pack an' unpack an' pack again. My boy, she's the happiest creature God - ever—I mean that <i>you</i> ever made, dern you. She has yore name - on 'er tongue every minute in the day. You know she's always said she had - as many childem as she wanted”—Pole laughed impulsively—“but - she says now she'd go through it all ag'in ef she knowed it 'ud be a boy - so she could call it after you.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I certainly would take it as a great honor,” Floyd said. “Your - children are going to make great men, Pole. They show it in their heads - and faces.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I hope so, Nelson.” Pole suddenly bent his head to listen. “That's - Sally talkin' now,” he said, with a knowing smile. “She sometimes talks - about all this to 'erse'f, she's so full of it, but she ain't talkin' to - 'erse'f now. You kin bet yore bottom dollar she ain't, Nelson. I say she - ain't an' I mean it, my boy.” - </p> - <p> - “Some one's in there, then?” said Floyd. - </p> - <p> - Pole looked steadily into the fire, not a muscle of his face changed. - “Somebody come back from Cartersville this mornin',” he said, - significantly. - </p> - <p> - Floyd's heart gave a big jump. “So I heard,” he said, under his breath. - </p> - <p> - “Well, she's in thar now. She'd heard we was goin' to move an' come over - jest after supper. She was plumb happy to see Sally so tickled. I didn't - mean to eave'drop, but I went in the entry jest now to hang up my bridle - an' couldn't help it. It was so purty, I could 'a' listened all day—Sally - puttin' on, an' tellin' 'er she'd send the carriage over fer 'er to spend - the day, an' that Cynthia must be shore an' send in 'er cyard at the door - so thar 'ud be no mistake, an' so on.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd made no response. He was studying Pole's face, digging into it with - his eyes for something he felt lay just beneath the unruffled surface. - </p> - <p> - “Then I heard some'n' else,” Pole said; “an' I'm goin' to feel mean about - totin' it to you, beca'se women has a right to the'r secrets, an' who they - pick an' choose fer the'r life-mates ort to be a sacred matter, but this - is a thing I think you have a right to be onto.” - </p> - <p> - “What is that, Pole?” Floyd seemed to be holding his breath. He was almost - pale in his great suspense. - </p> - <p> - “Why I heard Cynthia deny up an' down flatfooted that she was engaged to - Hillhouse. Lord, you ort to 'a' heard her snort when Sally told 'er it had - been the general belief about here ever since her an' him went off to - Cartersville. She was good mad. I know that fer I heard Sally tryin' to - pacify 'er. I heard Cynthia say all of a sudden: 'My mother put that - report into circulation. I know it now, and she had no right to do it.'” - </p> - <p> - Floyd breathed more freely, a gleam of hope was in his eyes, his face was - flushed. He said nothing. - </p> - <p> - Pole suddenly drew his feet back from the fire. “Don't you want a drink o' - fresh water, Nelson?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “No, thank you,” Floyd said. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I do. Keep yore seat. Since I left off whiskey I'm a great - water-drinker.” - </p> - <p> - Pole had been gone only a minute when Floyd heard light steps in the entry - leading to the kitchen. He sprang up, for Cynthia stood in the door-way. - </p> - <p> - “Why—why,” she stammered, “Mr. Baker told me some one wanted to see - me. I—I had no idea that you—” - </p> - <p> - “I want to see you bad enough, God knows, Cynthia,” Floyd found himself - saying, “but I did not tell him so. That, you know, would not be - respecting the message you sent me.” - </p> - <p> - “The message?” she said. “I'm sure I don't understand you.” - </p> - <p> - “I mean the message you sent me by your mother,” Floyd explained. - </p> - <p> - “But I didn't send you any message,” Cynthia said, still mystified, as she - stared frankly into his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I mean the—the night I came for you,” Floyd pursued, “the night I - was so presumptuous as to think you'd run away with me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, did she—did my mother tell you—” Cynthia was beginning to - understand. “Did she say that I—” - </p> - <p> - “She told me you said you wanted me never to bother you again.” - </p> - <p> - The girl lowered her head, the fire lighted up her face as she stood, her - eyes on the rough floor. She was silent a moment as if in deep thought, - then she looked into his eyes again. “I begin to see it all now,” she - said. “I wondered why you—how you could have treated me that way - after—after all you'd said.” - </p> - <p> - “Cynthia, what do you mean? Do, <i>do</i> tell me!” He leaned closer to - her—she could feel his quick, excited breath. “Surely you could not - believe I'd have left if you hadn't wished it. Oh, little girl, I have - been the most miserable man alive over losing you. I know I am unworthy of - you—I always shall be that—but losing you has nearly killed - me. Your mother told me that awful night that you not only wanted me to - let you alone, but that you were going to marry Hillhouse.” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia gave him a full, frank glance. “Nelson,” she said, “my mother made - up most of what she told you that night. I did promise not to run away - with you—she made me do that. You have no idea what she resorted to. - She determined to thwart us. She made me believe her mind was wrong and - that she would kill herself if I left.” - </p> - <p> - “But you went to her yourself, dear,” Floyd said, still in the dark, “and - told her of our plans.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I didn't, Nelson. She overheard our talk the week before. She - followed me out to the grape-arbor and heard every word of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I see—I see!” exclaimed Floyd; “she was at the bottom of it - all.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, her mind was frightfully upset. She came to me this morning and - cried and told me that she had heard so many nice things about you of late - that she was afraid she had wronged you. She thinks now that her mind was - really unbalanced that night. I believe it myself, for no thoroughly sane - person could have played the part she did. She persuaded herself that your - intentions were not pure and she felt justified in taking any step to save - me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I remember now,” said Floyd. “She could easily have misunderstood my - meaning that night, for I was in such a state of nervous excitement that I - did not go into details as to my plans. After I left you I remembered, - too, that I had not offered you a beautiful ring that I'd bought for you - in Atlanta. It's in my trunk in my room. Even after I'd lost all hope of - ever winning you, I could not bear to part with it.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Nelson, did you get me a ring?” She leaned towards him in childlike - eagerness. “What kind of one was it?” - </p> - <p> - “The prettiest, whitest diamond I could buy in Atlanta,” Floyd said, - almost holding his breath in suspense. “Oh, Cynthia, you say your mother - kept you from meeting me that night. If you had come what would have been - your decision?” - </p> - <p> - Cynthia's color rose; she avoided his hungry eyes as she looked down into - the fire. The house was very still, and Pole Baker's voice suddenly rose - into audibility. - </p> - <p> - “I tell you, I've jest <i>got</i> to have a kiss,” he said, “and I'm goin' - to have it right this minute! Do you reckon I'm goin' to stand here idle - an' them two in thar—” - </p> - <p> - “Pole, Pole, stop! Let me alone—behave yore-se'f!” cried Mrs. Baker. - There was a shuffling of feet then all was quiet. - </p> - <p> - Floyd leaned towards Cynthia till his lips almost touched her pink ear. - “If you had met me that night what would have been my fate?” he asked, - tremblingly. - </p> - <p> - Cynthia hesitated a moment longer, then she looked straight into his eyes - and said, simply: “I was ready to go with you, Nelson. I'd thought it all - over. I knew—I knew I'd be unhappy without you. Yes, I was ready to - go.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank God!” Floyd cried, taking her hands and holding them tenderly. “And - Hillhouse, you are not engaged to him, then?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh no. He was very persistent at Cartersville, but I refused him there - for the last time. There is a rich old maid in the town who is dead in - love with him and admires his preaching extravagantly. He showed me his - worst side when I gave him his final answer. He told me she had money and - would marry him and that he was going to propose to her. Do you think I - could have lived with a creature like that, after—after—” - </p> - <p> - She went no further. Floyd drew her into his arms. Her head rested on his - shoulder, his eyes feasting on her beautiful flushed face. - </p> - <p> - “After what?” he said. “Say it, darling—say it!” - </p> - <p> - “After knowing you,” she said, turning her face so that he could not see - her eyes. “Nelson, I knew all along that you would grow to be the good, - strong man you have become.” - </p> - <p> - “You made me all I am,” he said, caressingly. “You and Pole Baker. - Darling, let's go tell him.” - </p> - <p> - Floyd walked home with Cynthia half an hour later and left her at the - door. She went into her mother's room, and, finding the old woman awake, - she told her of the engagement. - </p> - <p> - There was no light in the room save that of the moonbeams falling through - the windows. Mrs. Porter sat up in her bed. For a moment she was silent, - and Cynthia wondered what she would say. - </p> - <p> - “I'm glad, very glad,” Mrs. Porter said, huskily. “I was afraid I'd ruined - all your chances. I see my mistake now. I misjudged him. Cynthia, I reckon - my mind was really upset. I took a wrong view of the whole thing, and now”—the - old woman's voice broke—“and now I suppose you and he will always - hate me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, mother, don't talk that way!” Cynthia sat down on the bed, put her - arm about her mother, and kissed her. “After all, it was for the best. I - didn't want to marry that way—this will be so much more - satisfactory.” - </p> - <p> - “That's certainly true,” said Mrs. Porter, slightly mollified. “I was - wrong, but, in the long run, it is better as it is.” - </p> - <p> - The next morning after breakfast Mrs. Porter told Nathan the news as he - stood out under an apple-tree sharpening a wooden tooth for his big - triangular harrow. - </p> - <p> - “I knowed she'd yank 'im,” he chuckled. “He certainly was the king-fish o' - these matrimonial waters, an' with all the fishin'-poles along the bank, - it jest tuck Nathan Porter's clear-headed daughter to jerk the hook into - his gills. But you mighty nigh spiled it with yore everlastin' suspicions - an' the long-legged galoot that you kept danglin' 'fore the'r eyes.” - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pole Baker, by Will N. 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