XII
Only a few old negroes were astir when I stepped from the house the nextmorning. Even the master had not arisen. The stars and the sun'sforerunners were having a battle on the broad field overhead; one by onethe stars were vanquished and their lamps extinguished. I stood upon thelowest step of the flight in front of the house, and watched the misty,uncertain shapes of trees and bushes gradually evolve themselves intodistinguishable outlines. The process was slow, because a kind of vaporlay upon everything, and it resisted strenuously the onslaught of thesun. But it gave way, as darkness ever must before light, and, as if bymagic, the curtain which night had placed was rolled away, and little bylittle the landscape was revealed. Along the creek, which ran justbeyond the pike, and parallel with it, hung a dense wall of fog, againstwhich it seemed the arrows of day fell, blunted. The air was cool andfresh, and I drew it deep down into my lungs, feeling the sluggish bloodstart afresh with each draught.
With the dawning of that day came the dawning of a new life for me. Irealized that I had been living in a darkened room, and that a windowhad suddenly been thrown open, letting in upon me a shower of goldenlight, with the songs of birds and the incense of flowers. My old lifehad been a contented one, had known the pleasures to be derived fromassociation with books and God's great out-door miracles. The new life,whose silver dawn was beginning to tip my soul with a strange radiance,held untold joys which belong rightly to heaven, and which numbed mymind as I strove blindly after comprehension. I was as a little childleft all at once alone upon the world. I stood, helpless, trying tocentralize my disordered thoughts, with a strange oppressed feeling inmy breast which deep respirations could not drive away. I was deeply,deeply troubled, and my mind was in a maze. But one idea possessed me,and that doggedly asserted itself, overriding the tumult in my brain. Iwas longing, madly longing, to see again her whom I _loved_. The word inmy mind was like the touch of a white-hot iron, and I started as ifstung, and fell to pacing nervously up and down. It could not be; itcould not be! That child of nineteen,--I a man of forty-five! The ideawas monstrous! What an old fool I had been! I did not know my own mind,that was all. I would be all right in a day or two. But still thatsinking feeling weighed above my heart, and my usually calm pulse wasrioting with something other than exercise.
"Let it be love!" I cried at last, in my troubled soul. "The painfulbliss of this half hour's experience is worth the cost of denial, forshe shall never know!"
Thus did I, poor worm, commune in my fool's heaven, recking not, norknowing, that I was setting at naught the plans of my Creator.
At breakfast I was myself, although my hand trembled when I conveyedfood to my mouth, and I felt my cheeks coloring when she came in alittle late, arrayed in a pink-flowered, flowing gown, and looking asfresh as though she had just risen, bathed in dew, from theblue-and-crimson cup of a morning-glory.
"How did you rest after your night ride?" she smiled, sitting by me andresting her elbows on the edge of the table, then pillowing her roundchin in her pink palms.
"I slept better for my outing," I answered promptly, lying with the easeof a schoolboy. The truth was, my sleep had been broken and poor.
"It's a good thing for Stone that you're back," thundered Mr. Grundy."You're so everlastingly fond of running over all creation, and he hasthe rovingest disposition I ever saw. Goin' down to salt those sheepthis mornin', S'lome?"
"Yes, sir. I made a compact with Mr. Stone last night to act as myesquire on all my expeditions. You've often said I should have some oneto go along with me."
"Don't let her impose on you, Stone," responded the old gentleman,throwing a quick wink in my direction. "She's young, you know, anddon't know as much as mother. She'll have you climbing an oak tree toget a young hawk out of its nest likely as not."
Salome laughed, while I boldly assured them that I would make the effortshould she desire such a thing. Mrs. Grundy was quiet, as usual. Shecontented herself listening to the conversation of the others, andseldom took her eyes off the girl it was plain to see she worshipped.
"Get ready for a walk this morning, Mr. Stone!" called Salome, a shorttime after breakfast, peeping over the balustrades at the top of thestair. "The lower farm is about two miles, and the walk will be good forus."
"I'll get my hat and stick; are you coming now?"
"As soon as I can get in another dress. I'll meet you in the locustgrove. Tell Tom to get you the salt, and I'll be there before you havemissed me."
She was gone with a pattering of little feet.
I went into my room for my stick and hat with a grim smile upon my face.The steady ground which I had thought beneath me was becoming shiftingsand. I went slowly around the house to the negro quarters with bowedhead, briefly gave Tom his mistress' orders, and stood apatheticallywhile the darky hastened away to obey.
A quick scurrying in the grass, and the pressure of two small paws uponmy trousers' leg brought me to myself, and I bent down to pat the yellowhead of Fido, who had espied me, and instantly besought recognition.
"You poor, dumb, faithful thing," I apostrophized, looking at the brighteyes which shone love into mine. "You are spared this agony of soul,and the futile efforts to solve problems which cannot be known. You loveme, and I love you; why could we both not be content?"
"Is Fido going, too?"
I composed my face with an effort, and straightened up as the cheeryvoice hailed me. She was coming towards me like a woodland sprite,floating, it seemed to me, for her gliding step was so free from anypronounced undulation. Her dress of blue checked gingham just escapedthe ground, and she wore a gingham sunbonnet with two long strings,which she held in either hand. The sunbonnet was tilted back, and herlaughing face, with its rich, delicate under-color of old wine, was fitfor a god to kiss.
"Yes, we will take him along if you do not object. He was the companionof my rambles before you came. We will make a congenial three."
Tom approached with a bucket of salt, which, after an exaggerated scrapeof the foot and a pull at his forelock, he handed to me, and we set out.
Our way led through the orchard at the back of the house, where grew, Ithink, all sorts of apples known to man. Each bough was freighted withits burden of round, green fruit, and here and there an Early Harvesttree was spattered with golden patches, where the ripened apples hung intheir green bower. Beyond the orchard lay a woods pasture, formed of asuccession of gentle swells, the heavy bluegrass turf soft as anOriental carpet to the feet, while scattered about were hundreds ofmagnificent trees, mostly oak and poplar. Dotting the sward werenumerous little white balls on long stems,--dandelions gone to seed.These Salome plucked constantly, and, filling her cheeks with wind,would blow like Boreas, until her face was purple. When I inquired thepurpose of this queer performance, I was shyly informed that it was totell if her sweetheart loved her. If she blew every one of the pappusoff at one breath, he loved her; if she didn't, he didn't love her. Shewas certainly very much concerned about the matter, for every ball shecame to she plucked and blew. Sometimes all the pappus disappeared, andsometimes they didn't, and so she never reached a decided conclusion.
The pasture crossed, a rail fence rose up before us. I at once steppedforward to let down a gap, but Salome halted me.
"The idea!" she declared. "I don't mind that at all. You stand justwhere you are, and turn your back; I'll call you when I'm over."
I blushed, and obeyed.
A wheat-field of billowy gold stretched before us when I joined her. Anarrow path ran through it, curving sinuously, as a path made by chancewill. This we followed, Salome going in front. The wheat was ready forthe reaper, and the full heads were swelled to bursting. Salome gatheredsome, threshed them between her hands, blew out the chaff, and offeredme part of the grain, eating the other herself. It was pasty, but notunpleasant, and I ate it because it was her gift. We were walkingpeacefully along, through the waist-high grain, when Salome gave alittle scream and jumped back, plump into my arms. Even in my excitementI saw the tail
of a black snake vanishing across the path. I releasedher quickly, of course, but the touch of her figure was like wine in myveins.
"I beg your pardon!" she said humbly; "but the ugly thing frightenedme. It darted out so quickly, and I almost stepped upon it. You couldn'tget one of the negroes to follow this path any farther. They are verysuperstitious, you know, and are firm believers in signs."
"I'm sorry you were startled so; perhaps I had better go in front," Iventured.
"No; you sha'n't. I'm not really afraid of snakes, except when I runupon one unexpectedly. I kill them when I get a chance."
And so she started out again in advance of me, and began telling thevarious beliefs of the negroes. I learned from her that their lives werealmost governed by "signs," and that some very trivial thing would deterthem from a certain course of action. There were ways to escape thespell of witches, to avoid snakes, and to keep from being led into amorass by jack-o'-lanterns. This folk-lore of the darkies wasexceedingly interesting to me, told in the charming manner whichcharacterized the speech of my companion.
The wheat-field ended at the pike, and here another fence was passed inthe same manner as the first one. Then we swung down the dusty roadtogether, side by side. To the right and left of us dog-fennel wasblooming, and the "Jimpson" weed flared its white trumpets in a braveshow. Occasionally a daisy lifted its yellow, modest head, and Salometook great delight in getting me to tell her which was daisy and whichwas fennel. My ignorance caused many a blunder, to her high amusement;but at last I discovered that the daisy's head was larger than that ofits humble brother. A half-mile's walk along the pike brought us to anold sagging gate, which I pushed open, and we went through. A grassyhill was before us, sloping down to a cool hollow where a springbubbled out from beneath a moss-grown old rock.
There were trees and bushes, and a soft green bank, and we joined handsand ran like two school-children till we reached the spring. Of courseshe must have a drink, so down she knelt, and plunged her pouting lipsinto the cool water. Her hair, tangled and loosened by our run, fell inwavy strands about her face. When she had drunk her fill, it was myturn, and so I stretched out full length, and carefully put my lips justwhere hers had been. Never had water tasted so sweet! I was taking itin, in long, cool swallows, when a sudden pressure on the back of myhead bobbed my face deep into the spring. I turned my head with a smile,to find her standing back and laughing like a child at the trick she hadplayed.
"You rascal!" I fumed good-naturedly, "I'll pay you back!"
Another peal of laughter was her only answer, caused, no doubt, by mywet face and the water dripping from my chin.
"Yonder come the sheep," she said. "Get up, and let's salt them."
I arose and picked up the bucket. Coming slowly up the hollow were fiveor six shabby-looking sheep. Their wool stood on them in patches, andthey seemed scarcely able to walk.
"What's the matter with them?" I queried.
"See how rusty the poor things look!" Her voice told of deep concern."Father says they have the scab, and it must be a dreadful disease, likeleprosy. Let's go meet them, and save them the trouble of walking sofar."
I could not help smiling at the tender heart this speech betrayed, butI went with her. As we neared the sorry-looking group, Salome took ahandful of salt and placed it upon a large flat stone. They rushed at iteagerly, despite their weakened state, and lapped it with their tongues.We put out more salt, at a dozen different places, so that all mighthave enough, then went back to the bank by the spring, and while she satdown in the shade and held her bonnet in her lap, I reclined by herside, and looked up at her, content.
The Love Story of Abner Stone Page 12
