The Little Red Foot

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE DEMON

  I think that summer was the strangest ever I have lived,--the mostunreal days of life,--so still, so golden, so strangely calm thesolitude that ringed me where I was slowly healing of my hurt.

  Each dawn was heralded by gold fire, each evening by a rosyconflagration in the west. It rained only at night; and all that crystalclear mid-summer scarcely a shred of fleece dappled the empyrean.

  Those winds which blow so frequently in our Northland seemed to havebecome zephyrs, too; and there was but a reedy breeze along the VlaieWater, and scarce a ripple to rock the lily pads in shallow reach andcove.

  It was strange. And, only for the loveliness of night and day, theremight have seemed in this hushed tranquillity around me a sort of hiddenmenace.

  For all around about was war, where Tryon County lay so peacefully inthe sunshine, ringed within the outer tumult, and walled on all sides bybattle smoke.

  Above us our fever-stricken Northern army, driven from Crown Point, nowlay and sickened at Ticonderoga, where General Gates did now command ourpeople, while poor Arnold, turned ship's carpenter, laboured to matchGuy Carleton's flotilla which the British were dragging piecemeal overChambly Rapids to blow us out o' the lake.

  From south of us came news of the Long Island disaster where HisExcellency, driven from Brooklyn and New York, now lay along the HarlemHeights.

  And it was a sorry business; for Billy Alexander, who is Lord Stirling,was taken a prisoner; and Sullivan also was taken; and their twobrigades were practically destroyed.

  But worse happened at New York City, where the New York militia ran andtwo New England brigades, seized with panic, fled in a shameful manner.And so out o' town our people pulled foot, riotous and disorderly inretreat, and losing all our heavy guns, nearly all our stores, and morethan three hundred prisoners.

  This was the news I had of the Long Island battle, where I lay inconvalescence at Summer House that strange, still summer in the North.

  And I thought very bitterly of what advantage was it that we had butjust rung bells and fired off our cannon to salute our new Declarationof Independence, and had upset the prancing leaden King from hispedestal on the Bowling Green, if our militia ran like rabbits at sightof the red-coats, and general officers like Lord Stirling weremouse-trapped in their first battle.

  Alas for poor New York, where fire and explosion had laid a third of thecity in ruins; where the drums of the red-coats now rolled brazenlyalong the Broadway; where Delancy's horsemen scoured the island forfriends to liberty; where that great wretch, Loring, lorded it like anunclean devil of the pit.

  God! to think on it when all had gone so well; and Boston clean o'red-coats, and Canada all but in our grasp; and old Charleston shakingwith her dauntless cannonade, and our people's volleys pouring intoDunmore's hirelings through the levelled cinders of Norfolk town!

  What was the matter with us that these Southern gentlemen stood theBritish fire while, if we faced it, we crumpled and gave ground; or, ifwe shunned it, we ran disgracefully? Save only at Boston had we driventhe red-coats on land. The British flame had scorched us on Long Island,singed us in New York, blasted us at Falmouth and Quebec, and left ourarmies writhing in the ashes from Montreal to Norfolk.

  And yet how tranquil, how fair, how ominously calm lay our Valley Landin the sunshine, ringed here by our blue mountains where no slightestcloud brooded in an unstained sky!

  And more still, more strange even than the untroubled calm of Tryon, laythe Summer House in its sunlit, soundless, and green desolation.

  Where, through the long days, nothing moved on the waste of waters savewhere a sun-burnished reed twinkled. Where, under star-powdered skies,no wind stirred; and only the vague far cry of some wandering wild thingever disturbed that vast and velvet silence.

  * * * * *

  Long before she came near me to speak to me, and even before she hadglanced at me from the west porch, whither she took her knitting in theafternoons, I had seen Penelope.

  From where I lay on my trundle in Sir William's old gun-room I couldsee out across the hallway and through the door, where the west verandaran.

  In the mornings either my Indian, Yellow-Leaf, or Nick Stoner mountedguard there, watching the green and watery wastes to the northward,while his comrade freshened my sheets and pillows and cleansed my room.

  In the afternoons one o' them went a-fishing or prowling after meat forour larder, or, sometimes, Nick went a-horse to Mayfield on observation,or to Johnstown for news or a bag of flour. And t'other watched from theveranda roof, which was railed, and ran all around the house, so that aman might walk post there and face all points of the compass.

  As for Penelope, I soon learned her routine; for in the morning she wasin the kitchen and about the house--save only she came not to myroom--but swept and dusted the rest, and cooked in the cellar-kitchen.

  Sometimes I could see her in apron and pink print, drawing water fromthe orchard well, and her skirt tucked up against the dew.

  Sometimes I saw her early in the garden, where greens grew and beans andpeas; or sometimes she hoed weeds where potatoes and early corn stood inrows along a small strip planted between orchard and posy-bed.

  And sometimes I could see her a-milking our three Jersey cows, or, witha sickle, cutting green fodder for my mare, Kaya, whose dainty hoofs Ioften heard stamping the barn floor.

  But after the dinner hour, and when the long, still afternoons laylistlessly betwixt mid-summer sun and the pale, cool dusk, she came fromher chamber all freshened like a faint, sweet breeze in her rustlingpetticoat of sheer, sprigged stuff, to seat herself on the west verandawith her knitting.

  Day after day I lay on my trundle where I could see her. She nevernoticed me, though by turning her head she could have seen me where Ilay.

  I do not now remember clearly what was my state of mind except that adull bitterness reigned there.

  Which was, of course, against all common sense and decent reason.

  I had no claim upon this girl. I had kissed her--through no fault ofhers, and by no warrant and no encouragement from her to so conduct inher regard.

  I had kissed her once. But other men had done that perhaps with no morewarrant. And I, though convinced that the girl knew not how to parrysuch surprises, brooded sullenly upon mine own indiscretion with her;and pondered upon the possible behaviour of other men with her. And Isilently damned their impudence, and her own imprudence which seemed tohave taught her little in regard to men.

  But in my mind the chiefest and most sullen trouble lay in what I hadseen under the lilacs that night in June.

  And when I closed my eyes I seemed to see her in Steve Watts' arms, andthe lad's ardent embrace of her throat and hair, and the flushed passionmarring his youthful face----

  I often lay there, my eyes on her where I could see her through thedoor, knitting, and strove to remember how I had first heard her namespoken, and how at that last supper at the Hall her name was spoken andher beauty praised by such dissolute young gallants as Steve Watts andLieutenant Hare; and how even Sir John had blurted out, in his cups,enough to betray an idle dalliance with this yellow-haired girl, andsufficient to affront his wife and his brother-in-law, and to disgustme.

  And Nick had said that men swarmed about her like forest-flies around apan o' syrup!

  And all this, too, before ever I had laid eyes upon this slim and silentgirl who now sat out yonder within my sullen vision, knitting or windingher wool in silence.

  What, then, could be the sentiments of any honest man concerning her?What, when I considered these things, were my own sentiments in herregard?

  And though report seemed clear, and what I had witnessed plainer still,I seemed to be unable to come to any conclusion as to my true sentimentsin this business, or why, indeed, it was any business of mine, and why Iconcerned myself at all.

  Men found her young and soft and inexperienced; and so stole from herthe kiss that heaven se
nt them.

  And Steve Watts, at least, was more wildly enamoured.... And, no doubt,that reckless flame had not left her entirely cold.... Else how couldshe have strolled away to meet him that same night when her lips muststill have felt the touch of mine?... And how endured his passion therein the starlight?... And if she truly were a loyal friend to liberty,how in God's name give secret tryst and countenance to a spy?

  * * * * *

  One morning, when Nick had bathed me, I made him dress me in forestleather. Lord, but I was weak o' the feet, and light in head as a blownegg-shell!

  Thus, dressed, I lay all morning on my trundle, and there, seated on theedge, was given my noon dinner.

  But I had no mind, now, to undress and rest. I desired to go to theveranda, and did fume and curse and bully poor Nick until he picked meup and carried me thither and did seat me within a large and cushionedWindsor chair.

  Then, madded, he went away to fish for a silver pike in our canoe,saying with much viciousness that I might shout my throat raw and perishthere ere he would stir a foot to put me to bed again.

  So I watched him go down to the shore where the canoe lay, lift in rodand line and paddle, and take water in high dudgeon.

  "Even an ass knows when he's sick!" he called out to me. But I laughedat him and saw his broad paddle stab the water, and the birchen craftshoot out among the reeds.

  Now it was in my thoughts to see how Mistress Penelope would choose toconduct, who had so long and so tranquilly ignored me.

  For here was I established upon the spot where she had been accustomedto sit through the long afternoons ... and think on Steve Watts, nodoubt!...

  Comes Mistress Penelope in sprigged gown of lavender, and smelling freshof the herb itself or of some faint freshness.

  I rested both hands upon the arms of my Windsor chair and so managed tostand erect.

  She turned rosy to her ear-tips at the sudden encounter, but her voicewas self-possessed and in nowise altered when she greeted me.

  I offered my hand; she extended hers and I saluted it.

  Then she seated herself at leisure in her Windsor reading-chair, laidher basket of wool-skeins upon the polished book-rest, and calmly fellto knitting.

  "So, you are mending fast, sir," says she; and her smooth little fingerstravelling steadily with her shining needles, and her dark eyes intenton both.

  "Oh, for that," said I, "I am well enough, and shall soon be strong tostrap war-belt and sling pack and sack.... Are you in health, MistressPen?"

  She expressed thanks for the civil inquiry. And knitted on and on. Andsilence fell between us.

  If it was then that I first began to fear I was in love with her, I donot surely remember now. For if such a doubt assailed me, then instantlymy mind resented so unwelcome a notion. And not only was there nopleasure in the thought, but it stirred in me a kind of breathlessanger which seemed to have long slumbered in its own ashes within me andnow gave out a dull heat.

  "Have you news of Lady Johnson and of Mistress Swift?" I asked at last.

  She lifted her eyes in surprise.

  "No, sir. How should news come to us here?"

  "I thought there might be channels of communication."

  "I know of none, sir. York is far, and the Canadas are farther still. Norunners have come to Summer House."

  "Still," said I, "communication was possible when I got my hurt lastJune."

  "Sir?"

  "Is that not true?"

  She looked at me in troubled silence.

  "Did not Lady Johnson's brother come here in secret to give her news,and take as much away?"

  She did not answer.

  "Once," said I, "although I had not asked, you told me that you were afriend to liberty."

  "And am so," said she.

  "And have a Tory lover."

  At that her face flamed and her wool dropped into her lap. She did notlook at me but sat with gaze ahead of her as though considering.

  At last: "Do you mean Captain Watts?" she asked.

  "Yes, I mean him."

  "He is not my lover."

  "I ask your pardon. The inference was as natural as my error."

  "Sir?"

  "Appearances," said I, "are proverbially deceitful. Instead of saying'your lover,' I should, perhaps, have said '_one_ of your lovers.' Andso again ask pardon."

  "Are you my lover, sir?"

  "I?" said I, taken aback at the direct shot so unexpected.

  "Yes, you, my lord. Are you one of my lovers?"

  "I think not. Why do you ask me that which never could be a questionthat yes or no need answer?"

  "I thought perhaps you might deem yourself my lover."

  "Why?"

  "Because you kissed me once,--as did Captain Watts.... And two othergentlemen."

  "Two other gentlemen?"

  "Yes, sir. A cornet of horse,--his name escapes me--and Sir John."

  "Who!" I blurted angrily.

  "Sir John Johnson."

  "The dissolute beast!" said I. "Had I known it that night at JohnsonHall----" But here I checked my speech and waited till the hot blood inmy face was done burning.

  And when again I was cool: "I am sorry for my heat," said I. "Yourconduct is your own affair."

  "You once made it yours, sir,--for a moment."

  Again I went hot and red; and how I had conducted with this maid plaguedme so that I found no word to answer.

  She knitted for a little while. Then, lifting her dark young eyes:

  "You have as secure a title to be my lover as has any man, Mr. Drogue.Which is no title at all."

  "Steve Watts took you in his arms near the lilacs."

  "What was that to you, Mr. Drogue?"

  "He was a spy in our uniform and in our camp!"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And you gave him your lips."

  "He took what he took. I gave only what was in my heart to give to anyfriend in peril."

  "What was that?"

  "Solicitude."

  "Oh. You warned him to leave? And he an enemy and a spy?"

  "I begged him to go, Mr. Drogue."

  "Do you still call yourself a friend to liberty?" I asked angrily.

  "Yes, sir. But I was his friend too. I did not know he had come here.And when by accident I recognized him I was frightened, because Ithought he had come to carry news to Lady Johnson."

  "And so he did! Did he not?"

  "He said he came for me."

  "To visit you?"

  "Yes, sir. And I think that was true. For when he made himself known tohis sister, she came near to fainting; and so he spoke no more to her atall but begged me for a tryst before he left."

  "Oh. And you granted it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Why?"

  "I was in great fright, fearing he might be taken.... Also I pitiedhim."

  "Why so?" I sneered.

  "Because he had courted me at Caughnawaga.... And at first I think hemade a sport of his courting,--like other young men of Tryon gentry whohunt and court to a like purpose.... And so, one day at Caughnawaga, Itold him I was honest.... I thought he ought to know, lest folly assailus in unfamiliar guise and do us a harm."

  "Did you so speak to this young man?"

  "Yes, sir. I told him that I am a maiden. I thought it best that heshould know as much.... And so he courted me no more. But every day hecame and glowered at other men.... I laughed secretly, so fiercely hewatched all who came to Cayadutta Lodge.... And then Sir John fled. Andwar came.... Well, sir, there is no more to tell, save that CaptainWatts dared come hither."

  "To take you in his arms?"

  "He did so,--yes, sir,--for the first time ever."

  "Then he is honestly in love with you?"

  "But you, also, did the like to me. Is it a consequence of honest love,Mr. Drogue, when a young man embraces a maiden's lips?"

  Her questions had so disconcerted me that I found now no answer to thisone.

  "I know nothing a
bout love," said I, looking out at the sunlit waters.

  "Nor I," said she.

  "You seem willing to be schooled," I retorted.

  "Not willing, not unwilling. I do not understand men, but am not averseto learning something of their ways. No two seem similar, Mr. Drogue,save in the one matter."

  "Which?" I asked bluntly.

  "The matter of paying court. All seem to do it naturally, though sometake fire quicker, and some seem to burn more ardently than others."

  "It pleasures you to be courted? Gallantries suit you? And the floweryphrases suitors use?"

  "They pleasurably perplex me. Time passes more agreeably when one isknitting. To be courted is not an unwelcome diversion to any woman, Ithink. And flowery phrases are pleasant to notice,--like music suitablyplayed, and of which one is conscious though occupied with othermatters."

  "If this be not coquetry," I thought, "then it is most perilously akinto it."

  Obscurely yet deeply disturbed by the blind stirring of emotions I couldnot clearly analyze, I sat brooding there. Now I watched her fingersplaying with the steels, and her young face lowered; now I gazed afaracross the blue Vlaie Water to the bluer mountains beyond, which dentedthe horizon as the great blue waves of Lake Ontario make moltenmountains against an azure sky.

  So still was the world that the distant leap and splash of a greatsilver pike sounded like a gun-shot in that breathless, sun-drenchedsolitude.

  Yet I found no solace now in all this golden peace; for, of the silencebetween this maid and me, had been born a vague and malicious thing; andlike a subtle demon it had come, now, into my body to turn me sullen andrestless with the scarce-formed, scarce-comprehended thoughts it hatchedwithin me. And one of these had to do with Stevie Watts, and how he hadcome here for the sake of this girl.... And had taken her into his armsunder the stars, near the lilacs.... And my lips still warm fromhers.... Yet she had gone to him in the dusk.... Was afeard for him....Pitied him.... And doubtless loved him, whatever she might choose to sayto me.... Under any circumstances a coquette; and, innocent or wise, tothe manner born at any rate.... And some Tryon County gallant likely totake her measure some day ere she awake from her soft bewilderment atthe ways and conducting of mankind.

  Nick came at eventide, carrying a pike by the gills, and showed us hisfingers bleeding of the watery conflict.

  "Is all calm on the Sacandaga?" I enquired.

  "Calm as a roadside puddle, Jack. And every day I ask myself if there betruly any war in North America or no, so placid shines God's sun onTryon.... You mend apace, old friend. Do you suffer fatigue?"

  "None, Nick. I shall sit at table tonight with Mistress Grant andyou----"

  My voice ceased, and, without warning, the demon that had entered intome began a-whispering. Then the first ignoble and senseless pang ofjealousy assailed me to remember that this girl and my comrade had beenalone for weeks together--supped all alone at table--companioned eachthe other while I lay ill!----

  Senseless, miserable clod that I was to listen to that demon'swhispering till my very belly seemed sick-sore with the pain of it andmy heart hurt me under the ribs.

  Now she rose and looked at Nick and laughed; and they said a word or twoI could not quite hear, but she laughed again as though with somefamiliar understanding, and went lightly away to her evening milking.

  "We shall be content indeed," said Nick, "that you sit at supper withus, old friend."

  But I had changed my mind, and said so.

  "You will not sit with us tonight?" he asked, concerned.

  I looked at him coldly:

  "I shall go to bed," said I, "and desire no supper.... Nor any aidwhatever.... I am tired. The world wearies me.... And so do my ownkind."

  And I got up and all alone walked to my little chamber.

  So great an ass was I.