The Man in Lonely Land

by Kate Langley Bosher

  XVIII

  ELMWOOD

  For some time Laine had seen Claudia. Walking up and down the littlewharf at the end of the long bridge, railless and narrow, which ranfar out into the river, her hands in her muff, the collar of her furcoat turned up, her face unprotected by the brown veil which tieddown securely the close-fitting hat, he had seen her a long way off,and as she waved her hand in greeting he lifted his hat and waved itin return.

  A few minutes later he was shaking hands with her, with her uncle,with his two fellow-passengers, with a number of other people, andeverybody was talking at once. Those on the wharf were calling outto those on the boat, and those on the boat were making inquiries of,or sending messages by those on the wharf, and not until Laine'shands were again shaken well by Claudia's uncle as the Essex drewoff, did he understand just who was his host.

  "A hearty welcome to Virginia, sir! A hearty welcome! We're happyto have you in our home! Here, Claudia, you drive Mr. Laine in thesmall sleigh, and I'll take the boys in the big one. Are you ready?Look at that rascal Jim dancing a horn-pipe instead of filling thatwagon! We're glad to know you, sir, glad to have you!" And for thethird time Laine's hands were shaken well by the ruddy-faced,white-haired old gentleman, with the twinkling, faded blue eyes, andold-fashioned clothes; shaken until they hurt. He was no longer astranger. The touch of hands, the sound of voice, and a somethingwithout name had made him one of them, and that of which he had oncebeen doubtful he knew was true.

  Ahead of them his fellow-travelers, one a Keith cousin and the othera friend, waved back and disappeared in a bend of the road; and asClaudia took up the reins he turned toward her.

  "Have you been waiting long? Are you sure you are not cold?" heasked.

  "Cold! On a day like this?" The color in her face was brilliant."We don't often have weather of this sort, and to stay indoors isimpossible. I love it! It's so Christmasy, if it isn't Southern.Did you have a very dreadful trip down? It takes courage to make it."

  "Courage!" He laughed and tucked the robe closer around her. "Itwas the most interesting trip I ever took. This is a very beautifulcountry."

  "We think it is." She turned slightly and looked around her. Theroad from the boat-landing wound gradually up the incline to theridge above the river; and as they reached its top the view of thelatter was unbroken, and broad and blue it stretched between itssnow-clad banks, serene and silent.

  Laine's eyes swept the scene before him. The brilliant sunshine onfield and river and winding road for a moment was blinding. Thebiting air stung his face, and life seemed suddenly a splendid,joyous thing. The girl beside him was looking ahead, as if atsomething to be seen there; and again he turned to her.

  "You love it here?"

  "Love it?" Her eyes were raised to his. "Everything in it, of it,about it!" With her left hand she brushed away the strands of hairthe wind had blown across her eyes. "It is my home."

  "A woman can make a home anywhere. A man--"

  "No, she can't--that is, I couldn't. I'd smother in New York. It iswonderful to go to. I love its stir and color and the splendidthings it is doing; but you can't listen to the wind in the trees, orwatch the stars come out, or let your other self have a chance." Sheturned to him. "We're very slow and queer down here. Are you sureyou won't mind coming for Christmas?"

  Laine leaned forward and straightened the robe, and out of his facethe color faded. He was only one of the several guests. "You arevery good to let me come," he said, quietly. "I have not thankedyou. I don't know how to thank you. Christmas by one's self--"

  "Is unrighteous!" She nodded gaily and touched the horse with thewhip. "There's Elmwood! There's my home! Please like Virginia, Mr.Vermont man!"

  Before he could answer, the sleigh stopped at the entrance to theroad leading to the big house, and at the door of the little lodge bythe always-open gate stood a short, stout colored woman, hands on herhips, and on her head a gaily colored kerchief.

  Laine was introduced. Mammy Malaprop was known by reputation, but nowords could make of Malaprop a picture, and in deep delight Lainewatched her as she curtsied in a manner all her own.

  "How you do, suh! How you do! A superfluous Christmas to you, suh!I'm sorry you didn't git heah 'fore de war. Livin' nowadays ain'tmore'n shucks from de corn of what it used to be. Is dey all heahnow, Miss Claudia?"

  "I believe so. I am going to bring Mr. Laine down for some hoe-cakesand buttermilk after Christmas, and you might tell him some of thestories you used to tell us when we were children. He lives in NewYork, and--"

  "He do! I hope he got himself petrified on the way down, for theytell me 'tis a den of promiscuity, and all the nations of the earthdone took their seats in it. I knowed a woman who lived there once.She near 'bout work herself to death, and she say she couldn't havestood it if it hadn't been for the hopes of a glorious immoralitywhat was awaitin' her when she died--" And Mammy Malaprop's handswaved cheerfully until the sleigh was lost to sight.

  From the public road skirting the Elmwood land the private one,tree-bordered by century-old elms, leading to the terraced lawn,wound for some three-quarters of a mile, and as they approached thehouse Laine saw it was architecturally of a type unseen before. Thecentral building, broad, two stories high, with sloping roof anddeep-pillared portico, by itself would not have been unusual; but theslightly semi-circular corridors connecting it with the two wingsgave it a grace and beauty seldom found in the straight lines of theperiod in which it had been built, and the effect was impressive. Atthe foot of the terrace a little colored boy was blowing ardently alittle trumpet, giving shrill greeting to the stranger guest, and asthey came closer he took off his hat and held it in his hand.

  "All right, Gabriel." Claudia nodded to the boy. "Run on, now, andtell Jeptha to come for the horse." She laughed in Laine's puzzledeyes. "He's Mammy Malaprop's grandson. He thinks he's the realGabriel and it's his duty to blow. He sings like an angel, but can'tlearn to spell his name. There they are!" She waved her hand gailyto the group on the porch.

  As he saw them Laine thought of Claudia's arrival in New York, andhis face flushed. The men came down the steps, and a moment later hewas presented to Claudia's mother, gracious, gentle, and of a dignityfine and sweet; to her sister, home for the holidays with her husbandand children; to an engineer cousin from the West, and a girl fromPhiladelphia; and once more his hands were shaken by Colonel BushrodBall. It was a Christmas guest who was being welcomed, not WinthropLaine alone, and he wondered if he were indeed himself.

  More than once he wondered before the day was done. Under theleadership of the Colonel the men were shown their rooms, by way ofthe dining-room, for, like Moses, Uncle Bushrod believed inward cheeressential after outdoor chill; and, moreover, the apple toddy must betested. It was an old world he was in, but to him a very new one.The happy stir of Christmas preparations, the coming and going offriends and neighbors, the informality and absence of pretense, thegay chatter and genuine interest, was warm and sweet; and as one whowatches a play he wondered at it, and something long thought deadthrilled and throbbed and stirred within him.

  In former days the house had doubtless been the scene of lavishliving, he thought from time to time, and he would have liked toexplore the many rooms with their polished floors and deepwindow-seats, their carved paneling and marble mantels; and when, inthe afternoon, he found himself alone for a few minutes in the vasthall, he paced off its sixty feet of length and its twenty of widthto know their number, studied the winding staircase with its whitepilasters and mahogany rails, scanned hurriedly the portraits intheir tarnished frames, some with the signatures of Sir JoshuaReynolds, some with Stuart, and others of lesser fame, which hungabove the wainscoted walls; and as he looked he did not wonder atClaudia's love for her home.

  "You care for these things, too, do you?"

  The voice behind made him turn quickly. The girl from Philadelphianodded to him and hugged her crossed arms closely to her boso
m. "Idon't. That is, not in weather like this, I don't. Ancestral hallssound well, but, unheated, they're horrors. I'm frozen, and thedoors are open, of course. Have you been in the big parlors? Somepretty things are in them, but faded and rather shabby now. Whydon't you go in the library? There's a roaring fire in there, and achair you can sit on. Every other one in the house has something init."

  Laine followed the girl into the library, and as she held her handsto the blaze she motioned him to sit down. "I don't believe anybodyin the world is as crazy about Christmas as Claudia. She gets thewhole county on the jump, and to-morrow night everything in it willbe here. Giving is all right, but Claudia takes it too far. Thehouse needs painting, and a furnace would make it a different place,but she will do nothing until she has the money in the bank to payfor it; and yet she will give everybody within miles a Christmaspresent. When she took hold of things the place was dreadfullymortgaged, and she's paid off every dollar; but, for chance,stock-markets aren't in it with farming. Isn't that a pretty olddesk? I could sell lots of this furniture for them and get big moneyfor it, but I don't dare say so. They never talk money here. Myroom hasn't a piece of carpet on it, and one of those old JoshuaReynoldses in the hall would get so many things the house needs. I'ma Philistine, I guess, as well as a Philadelphian, and I like newthings: plenty of bath-rooms and electric lights and steam heat. Idon't blame them for not selling the old silver and china or thedining-room furniture, though it needs doing over pretty badly; butsome of those old periwigged pictures I'd sell in a minute. Plentyof people would pay well for ancestors, and it's about all they'vegot down here. Hello, Claudia; we were just talking about you!"

  Claudia put down the armful of red roses she was carrying and beganto fill a tall vase with them. "Did you say anything that wasn'tnice?" She bit a piece of stem off. "If you did, it wasn't so." Sheturned to Laine. "You ought to see mother. She rarely has suchflowers as you brought down--You have made her so happy. It was verygood of you."

  "Good!" The girl from Philadelphia went out of the room. "Ifonly--" In his eyes no longer was restraint, and Claudia turned herhead as if listening to something outside.

  "I believe mother is calling me," she said. "Would you mind tellingher, Mr. Laine, I am coming right away?"