The Colonel's Dream

by Charles W. Chesnutt

  _Fifteen_

  It was only a short time after his visit to the Excelsior Mills thatColonel French noticed a falling off in the progress made by hislawyer, Judge Bullard, in procuring the signatures of those interestedin the old mill site, and after the passing of several weeks he beganto suspect that some adverse influence was at work. This suspicion wasconfirmed when Judge Bullard told him one day, with someembarrassment, that he could no longer act for him in the matter.

  "I'm right sorry, Colonel," he said. "I should like to help you putthe thing through, but I simply can't afford it. Other clients, whosebusiness I have transacted for years, and to whom I am under heavyobligations, have intimated that they would consider any furtheractivity of mine in your interest unfriendly to theirs."

  "I suppose," said the colonel, "your clients wish to secure the millsite for themselves. Nothing imparts so much value to a thing as thenotion that somebody else wants it. Of course, I can't ask you to actfor me further, and if you'll make out your bill, I'll hand you acheck."

  "I hope," said Judge Bullard, "there'll be no ill-feeling about ourseparation."

  "Oh, no," responded the colonel, politely, "not at all. Business isbusiness, and a man's own interests are his first concern."

  "I'm glad you feel that way," replied the lawyer, much relieved. Hehad feared that the colonel might view the matter differently.

  "Some men, you know," he said, "might have kept on, and worked againstyou, while accepting your retainer; there are such skunks at the bar."

  "There are black sheep in every fold," returned the colonel with acold smile. "It would be unprofessional, I suppose, to name yourclient, so I'll not ask you."

  The judge did not volunteer the information, but the colonel knewinstinctively whence came opposition to his plan, and investigationconfirmed his intuition. Judge Bullard was counsel for Fetters in allmatters where skill and knowledge were important, and Fetters held hisnote, secured by mortgage, for money loaned. For dirty work Fettersused tools of baser metal, but, like a wise man, he knew when thesewere useless, and was shrewd enough to keep the best lawyers under hiscontrol.

  The colonel, after careful inquiry, engaged to take Judge Bullard'splace, one Albert Caxton, a member of a good old family, a young man,and a capable lawyer, who had no ascertainable connection withFetters, and who, in common with a small fraction of the best people,regarded Fetters with distrust, and ascribed his wealth to usury andto what, in more recent years, has come to be known as "graft."

  To a man of Colonel French's business training, opposition was merelya spur to effort. He had not run a race of twenty years in thecommercial field, to be worsted in the first heat by the petty boss ofa Southern backwoods county. Why Fetters opposed him he did not know.Perhaps he wished to defeat a possible rival, or merely to keep outprinciples and ideals which would conflict with his own methods andinjure his prestige. But if Fetters wanted a fight, Fetters shouldhave a fight.

  Colonel French spent much of his time at young Caxton's office,instructing the new lawyer in the details of the mill affair. Caxtonproved intelligent, zealous, and singularly sympathetic with hisclient's views and plans. They had not been together a week before thecolonel realised that he had gained immensely by the change.

  The colonel took a personal part in the effort to procure signatures,among others that of old Malcolm Dudley and on the morning followingthe drive with Graciella, he drove out to Mink Run to see the oldgentleman in person and discover whether or not he was in a conditionto transact business.

  Before setting out, he went to his desk--his father's desk, which MissLaura had sent to him--to get certain papers for old Mr. Dudley'ssignature, if the latter should prove capable of a legal act. He hadlaid the papers on top of some others which had nearly filled one ofthe numerous small drawers in the desk. Upon opening the drawer hefound that one of the papers was missing.

  The colonel knew quite well that he had placed the paper in the drawerthe night before; he remembered the circumstance very distinctly, forthe event was so near that it scarcely required an exercise, not tosay an effort, of memory. An examination of the drawer disclosed thatthe piece forming the back of it was a little lower than the sides.Possibly, thought the colonel, the paper had slipped off and fallenbehind the drawer.

  He drew the drawer entirely out, and slipped his hand into the cavity.At the back of it he felt the corner of a piece of paper projectingupward from below. The paper had evidently slipped off the top of theothers and fallen into a crevice, due to the shrinkage of the wood orsome defect of construction.

  The opening for the drawer was so shallow that though he could feelthe end of the paper, he was unable to get such a grasp of it as wouldpermit him to secure it easily. But it was imperative that he have thepaper; and since it bore already several signatures obtained with somedifficulty, he did not wish to run the risk of tearing it.

  He examined the compartment below to see if perchance the paper couldbe reached from there, but found that it could not. There wasevidently a lining to the desk, and the paper had doubtless slippeddown between this and the finished panels forming the back of thedesk. To reach it, the colonel procured a screw driver, and turningthe desk around, loosened, with some difficulty, the screws thatfastened the proper panel, and soon recovered the paper. With it,however, he found a couple of yellow, time-stained envelopes,addressed on the outside to Major John Treadwell.

  The envelopes were unsealed. He glanced into one of them, and seeingthat it contained a sheet, folded small, presumably a letter, hethrust the two of them into the breast pocket of his coat, intendingto hand them to Miss Laura at their next meeting. They were probablyold letters and of no consequence, but they should of course bereturned to the owners.

  In putting the desk back in its place, after returning the panel andclosing the crevice against future accidents, the colonel caught hiscoat on a projecting point and tore a long rent in the sleeve. It wasan old coat, and worn only about the house; and when he changed itbefore leaving to pay his call upon old Malcolm Dudley, he hung it ina back corner in his clothes closet, and did not put it on again for along time. Since he was very busily occupied in the meantime, the twoold letters to which he had attached no importance, escaped his memoryaltogether.

  The colonel's coachman, a young coloured man by the name of Tom, hadcomplained of illness early in the morning, and the colonel tookPeter along to drive him to Mink Run, as well as to keep him company.On their way through the town they stopped at Mrs. Treadwell's, wherethey left Phil, who had, he declared, some important engagement withGraciella.

  The distance was not long, scarcely more than five miles. Ben Dudleywas in the habit of traversing it on horseback, twice a day. When theyhad passed the last straggling cabin of the town, their way lay alonga sandy road, flanked by fields green with corn and cotton, broken bystretches of scraggy pine and oak, growing upon land once undercultivation, but impoverished by the wasteful methods of slavery; landthat had never been regenerated, and was now no longer tilled. Negroeswere working in the fields, birds were singing in the trees. Buzzardscircled lazily against the distant sky. Although it was only earlysummer, a languor in the air possessed the colonel's senses, andsuggested a certain charity toward those of his neighbours--and theywere most of them--who showed no marked zeal for labour.

  "Work," he murmured, "is best for happiness, but in this climateidleness has its compensations. What, in the end, do we get for allour labour?"

  "Fifty cents a day, an' fin' yo'se'f, suh," said Peter, supposing thesoliloquy addressed to himself. "Dat's w'at dey pays roun' hyuh."

  When they reached a large clearing, which Peter pointed out as theirdestination, the old man dismounted with considerable agility, andopened a rickety gate that was held in place by loops of rope.Evidently the entrance had once possessed some pretensions toelegance, for the huge hewn posts had originally been faced withdressed lumber and finished with ornamental capitals, some fragmentsof which remained; and the one massive hinge, hanging b
y a slenderrust-eaten nail, had been wrought into a fantastic shape. As theydrove through the gateway, a green lizard scampered down from the topof one of the posts, where he had been sunning himself, and arattlesnake lying in the path lazily uncoiled his motley brownlength, and sounding his rattle, wriggled slowly off into the rankgrass and weeds that bordered the carriage track.

  The house stood well back from the road, amid great oaks and elms andunpruned evergreens. The lane by which it was approached was partlyovergrown with weeds and grass, from which the mare's fetlocks sweptthe dew, yet undried by the morning sun.

  The old Dudley "mansion," as it was called, was a large two-storyframe house, built in the colonial style, with a low-pitched roof, anda broad piazza along the front, running the full length of bothstories and supported by thick round columns, each a solid piece ofpine timber, gray with age and lack of paint, seamed with fissures bythe sun and rain of many years. The roof swayed downward on one side;the shingles were old and cracked and moss-grown; several of thesecond story windows were boarded up, and others filled with sashesfrom which most of the glass had disappeared.

  About the house, for a space of several rods on each side of it, theground was bare of grass and shrubbery, rough and uneven, lying inlittle hillocks and hollows, as though recently dug over at haphazard,or explored by some vagrant drove of hogs. At one side, beyond thisbarren area, lay a kitchen garden, enclosed by a paling fence. Thecolonel had never thought of young Dudley as being at all energetic,but so ill-kept a place argued shiftlessness in a marked degree.

  When the carriage had drawn up in front of the house, the colonelbecame aware of two figures on the long piazza. At one end, in amassive oaken armchair, sat an old man--seemingly a very old man, forhe was bent and wrinkled, with thin white hair hanging down upon hisshoulders. His face, of a highbred and strongly marked type,emphasised by age, had the hawk-like contour, that is supposed tobetoken extreme acquisitiveness. His faded eyes were turned toward awoman, dressed in a homespun frock and a muslin cap, who sat boltupright, in a straight-backed chair, at the other end of the piazza,with her hands folded on her lap, looking fixedly toward her_vis-a-vis_. Neither of them paid the slightest attention to thecolonel, and when the old man rose, it was not to step forward andwelcome his visitor, but to approach and halt in front of the woman.

  "Viney," he said, sharply, "I am tired of this nonsense. I insist uponknowing, immediately, where my uncle left the money."

  The woman made no reply, but her faded eyes glowed for a moment, likethe ashes of a dying fire, and her figure stiffened perceptibly as sheleaned slightly toward him.

  "Show me at once, you hussy," he said, shaking his fist, "or you'llhave reason to regret it. I'll have you whipped." His cracked voicerose to a shrill shriek as he uttered the threat.

  The slumbrous fire in the woman's eyes flamed up for a moment. Sherose, and drawing herself up to her full height, which was greaterthan the old man's, made some incoherent sounds, and bent upon him alook beneath which he quailed.

  "Yes, Viney, good Viney," he said, soothingly, "I know it was wrong,and I've always regretted it, always, from the very moment. But youshouldn't bear malice. Servants, the Bible says, should obey theirmasters, and you should bless them that curse you, and do good to themthat despitefully use you. But I was good to you before, Viney, and Iwas kind to you afterwards, and I know you've forgiven me, good Viney,noble-hearted Viney, and you're going to tell me, aren't you?" hepleaded, laying his hand caressingly upon her arm.

  She drew herself away, but, seemingly mollified, moved her lips asthough in speech. The old man put his hand to his ear and listenedwith an air of strained eagerness, well-nigh breathless in itsintensity.

  "Try again, Viney," he said, "that's a good girl. Your old masterthinks a great deal of you, Viney. He is your best friend!"

  Again she made an inarticulate response, which he nevertheless seemedto comprehend, for, brightening up immediately, he turned from her,came down the steps with tremulous haste, muttering to himselfmeanwhile, seized a spade that stood leaning against the steps, passedby the carriage without a glance, and began digging furiously at oneside of the yard. The old woman watched him for a while, with aself-absorption that was entirely oblivious of the visitors, and thenentered the house.

  The colonel had been completely absorbed in this curious drama. Therewas an air of weirdness and unreality about it all. Old Peter was assilent as if he had been turned into stone. Something in theatmosphere conduced to somnolence, for even the horses stood still,with no signs of restlessness. The colonel was the first to break thespell.

  "What's the matter with them, Peter? Do you know?"

  "Dey's bofe plumb 'stracted, suh--clean out'n dey min's--dey be'n datway fer yeahs an' yeahs an' yeahs."

  "That's Mr. Dudley, I suppose?"

  "Yas, suh, dat's ole Mars Ma'com Dudley, de uncle er young Mistah BenDudley w'at hangs 'roun Miss Grac'ella so much."

  "And who is the woman?"

  "She's a bright mulattah 'oman, suh, w'at use' ter b'long ter defamily befo' de wah, an' has kep' house fer ole Mars' Ma'com eversense. He 'lows dat she knows whar old Mars' Rafe Dudley, _his_ uncle,hid a million dollahs endyoin' de wah, an' huh tongue's paralyse' soshe can't tell 'im--an' he's be'n tryin' ter fin' out fer de las'twenty-five years. I wo'ked out hyuh one summer on plantation, an' Iseen 'em gwine on like dat many 'n' many a time. Dey don' nobody roun'hyuh pay no 'tention to 'em no mo', ev'ybody's so use' ter seein''em."

  The conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Ben Dudley, whocame around the house, and, advancing to the carriage, nodded toPeter, and greeted the colonel respectfully.

  "Won't you 'light and come in?" he asked.

  The colonel followed him into the house, to a plainly furnishedparlour. There was a wide fireplace, with a fine old pair of brassandirons, and a few pieces of old mahogany furniture, incongruouslyassorted with half a dozen splint-bottomed chairs. The floor was bare,and on the walls half a dozen of the old Dudleys looked out from asmany oil paintings, with the smooth glaze that marked the touch of thetravelling artist, in the days before portrait painting was supersededby photography and crayon enlargements.

  Ben returned in a few minutes with his uncle. Old Malcolm seemed tohave shaken off his aberration, and greeted the colonel with gravepoliteness.

  "I am glad, sir," he said, giving the visitor his hand, "to make youracquaintance. I have been working in the garden--the flower-garden--forthe sake of the exercise. We have negroes enough, though they are verytrifling nowadays, but the exercise is good for my health. I havetrouble, at times, with my rheumatism, and with my--my memory." Hepassed his hand over his brow as though brushing away an imaginarycobweb.

  "Ben tells me you have a business matter to present to me?"

  The colonel, somewhat mystified, after what he had witnessed, by thissudden change of manner, but glad to find the old man seeminglyrational, stated the situation in regard to the mill site. Old Malcolmseemed to understand perfectly, and accepted with willingness thecolonel's proposition to give him a certain amount of stock in the newcompany for the release of such rights as he might possess under theold incorporation. The colonel had brought with him a contract,properly drawn, which was executed by old Malcolm, and witnessed bythe colonel and Ben.

  "I trust, sir," said Mr. Dudley, "that you will not ascribe it to anydiscourtesy that I have not called to see you. I knew your father andyour grandfather. But the cares of my estate absorb me so completelythat I never leave home. I shall send my regards to you now and thenby my nephew. I expect, in a very short time, when certain mattersare adjusted, to be able to give up, to a great extent, my arduouscares, and lead a life of greater leisure, which will enable me totravel and cultivate a wider acquaintance. When that time comes, sir,I shall hope to see more of you."

  The old gentleman stood courteously on the steps while Ben accompaniedthe colonel to the carriage. It had scarcely turned into the lane whenthe colonel, looking back, saw the old man digging fur
iously. Thecondition of the yard was explained; he had been unjust in ascribingit to Ben's neglect.

  "I reckon, suh," remarked Peter, "dat w'en he fin' dat milliondollahs, Mistah Ben'll marry Miss Grac'ella an' take huh ter NewYo'k."

  "Perhaps--and perhaps not," said the colonel. To himself he added,musingly, "Old Malcolm will start on a long journey before he findsthe--million dollars. The watched pot never boils. Buried treasure isnever found by those who seek it, but always accidentally, if at all."

  On the way back they stopped at the Treadwells' for Phil. Phil was notready to go home. He was intensely interested in a long-earedmechanical mule, constructed by Ben Dudley out of bits of wood andleather and controlled by certain springs made of rubber bands, bymanipulating which the mule could be made to kick furiously. Since thecolonel had affairs to engage his attention, and Phil seemed perfectlycontented, he was allowed to remain, with the understanding that Petershould come for him in the afternoon.