The Love Story of Abner Stone
Page 9
IX
I descended the steps, and stood at a respectful distance. I saw a grayhead and a brown one side by side, and caught faintly the whispered loveof youth and age. Arms were at length unclasped, and Mrs. Grundypresented me. A sudden up-flashing of dark eyes was the first impressionI received from the face turned towards me. She made me a low courtesy,and held out her hand, and I took it and bowed over it with the bestgrace of which I was master.
"I am glad to see you, Miss Salome," I said, truthfully, for my feelingshad undergone a wonderful revulsion, despite my indifference of thatmorning. Sometimes a moment is long enough to change one's whole being.
"I am so pleased to find you here." Her voice was low, well bred, andmodulated. "Mother and father are very lonely after I go away. They loveme far more than I deserve," and she smiled back at them as they stoodhand in hand watching us. "Now, if you will excuse me, I will shakehands with all of these good friends."
She nodded pleasantly in response to my bow, and moved away with acertain gliding step. Straight to an old black mammy she went, and threwherself into the good creature's arms. Then right and left she turned,while they crowded around her, shaking hands with all. Some horny handsshe took could have crushed hers like a flower; but everywhere wereexpressions of love and respect. And she was the gladdest thing there.The genuine affection she felt for all the negroes was shown in hercordial greetings.
The carriage was driven away, the blacks dispersed, and the rest of usretired to "mother's room," which was situated back of mine. The two oldpeople hovered about their returned darling like parent birds over astrayed fledgeling which had come back to the nest. I took a seat apart,and, joining in the conversation but rarely, studied the girl who sat ina large rocking chair, and who talked as volubly and as entertaininglyas any one could have wished. She was, as Mr. Grundy had said, of mediumbuild. Her form was youthful, but possessed of that subtle roundnesswhich betokens the approach of womanhood. Two dainty feet darted in andout beneath her skirt as she rocked to and fro. Her face was notbeautiful, but the features were delicate and fine. Her lips were as redas rich blood could make them, the upper one pouting ever so slightly,and the soft brown hair was parted in the middle and drawn back from anexquisite forehead. The dark brown eyes were the girl's chief charm.They danced and sparkled in impish mischief, and had a way of shootingsudden glances which made themselves felt as keenly as arrows. Andcrowning it all was a sweet grace and womanliness which was good to see.From that hour my opinion of a school-girl changed.
After supper all of us gathered on the front porch. Mr. and Mrs. Grundyoccupied the settee; Salome and I sat upon the porch at the top of thesteps, she leaning against one pillar, and I against the other, acrossfrom her. Of course she did the talking, and while most of it was aboutthe things which had happened at school, I found myself listening withincreasing interest. I soon discovered that it was the music of hervoice which held me,--soft, rich, speaking in perfect accents. Hernarrative was frequently interrupted by bursts of bubbling laughter, assome amusing incident was remembered and related. Very suddenly shestopped.
"Listen!" she said, and turned her head sideways, holding up one finger.
Through the silence which followed came the twanging notes of a banjo.
"It's Uncle Zeb!" she announced, in a loud whisper. Then to me,impulsively, "Don't _you_ like music, Mr. Stone?"
She leaned towards me, as though it was a vital question which she hadpropounded.
"Very dearly," I answered promptly. "This is the first that I have heardsince coming here."
"It's a jig, and he's playing it for me--the old darling! I must go tohim, or he would be hurt."
She arose swiftly, and gathered up her skirts.
"Will you come, Mr. Stone, since you love music? We won't stay long."
I mumbled something, and got up, a trifle confused. Such perfect candorand lack of artificiality was a revelation to me. She placed herdisengaged hand upon my arm at the bottom of the steps.
"Uncle Zeb almost raised me," she explained, as we took our way aroundthe house towards the darkey cabins. "He's taken me to the fields withhim many a time, and I was brought up on that tune you hear him playing.He always plays it when I come home--look at them now!"
The cabins were all built in a locust grove to the rear of the house.To-night the negroes had lighted a bonfire, and were making merry in theold-time, ante-bellum way. Seated upon broken-down chairs, or strewnupon the grass in various attitudes, these dusky children of misfortunewatched the performance of an exceedingly black old uncle, who, sittingupon a bench before his cabin, was picking the strings of a banjo almostas old as himself. His bald head, surrounded by a fringe of gray wool,shone brightly in the firelight, he was rocking his body rhythmicallybackwards and forwards, and keeping time with one foot upon the hardearth. As we came into the circle of firelight we were discovered, andthere was a quick movement, and a deferential giving way. My companiontook her hand from my arm, and the action seemed to draw me much nearerthe earth than I had been for the past two or three minutes. Themusician stopped playing when he became aware of our presence.
"Bress de Lawd, honey chile! Am dat you? 'Pears to me a' angel mus' 'a'drapped down frum de sky!"
"This is your little child, Uncle Zeb," she answered with feeling, "andI have come out here to listen to you play."
"De ol' man can't play 'less de feet's a-goin'," he replied, shaking hishead solemnly. "You know you's al'ays danced fur ol' Zeb."
A darker color came to her cheeks, and she turned smilingly to me.
"Uncle Zeb taught me a jig when I was a wee thing in pinafores. He willnever play for me unless I dance for him. You know he thinks I am stilla child of eight or ten. If you think it's not--real nice, I won't askyou to stay."
The roguish upcasting of starry eyes, and the deprecating little manner,tied my tongue for the instant.
"I shall be glad to stay, if you will permit me."
This much I managed to utter, and as she bowed assent, I went and leanedagainst the cabin wall, by the side of Uncle Zeb. This was done partlyto give her all the room she needed, and partly to secure a support formyself, for a strange weakness had begun to assail my limbs.
There was an eager, anticipative move on the part of the negroes. Theynudged each other, and whispered, grinned broadly, and shifted theirpositions to where they could obtain an unobstructed view. Salome stoodbareheaded, with arms akimbo, waiting for the music. The travelling suithad been discarded, and she was dressed in a simple blue dimity frockwhich showed the perfect curves of her figure to charming advantage.Uncle Zeb, with characteristic leisure, was in no hurry to begin. Hetwisted the screws and thrummed the strings in a very wise manner. Atlength the instrument was tuned to his satisfaction, and then hisclaw-like fingers began to move with astonishing rapidity. I looked atSalome. She was standing perfectly still. Then, as the music quickened,I saw her supple body begin to sway, like a lily's stem when a zephyrbreathes upon it. Her hands dropped to her sides, and daintily liftingher gown above her feet, she began to dance. Gently at first, and withsuch ease that she barely moved. Then the step receded, advanced, andgrew faster. Her tiny feet twinkled, and tapped the earth in perfecttime and rhythm. Such living grace I had never looked upon! The bendingform, the flushed face, and the dancing feet, the grouped negroes andthe old musician,--the picture was burned into my memory like paintingis burned upon china in a kiln. My breath came quicker, and my face grewhot. I scarcely knew when she stopped, but for the wild cheers of thespectators. Then, flushed and laughing, she came and cast herself uponthe bench by Uncle Zeb.
"Yo' do it better eb'ry time, chile!" declared the old fellow, highlydelighted that she had danced to his playing.
"And you gave it better than ever before! Did I shock you, Mr. Stone?"She turned to me with a look of deep contrition.
I sat down beside her, and spoke my mind.
"I never saw anything like it. But don't fear that you shocked me. Iwish that I could see t
he same thing every evening."
"You're good not to mind it. Mother and father think it sweet, and Idance for them sometimes. Now, if you don't mind, we will go back. I'm alittle tired to-night from my journey. Good-night, Uncle Zeb," shepatted the old man's hand. "Good-night, Lindy, Jane, Dinah, Sambo,Tom--all of you!" She waved her hand, and, to a chorus of answeringgood-nights, we moved away.