CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
_Cephas Has His Troubles_
Usually there is a yawning gulf between youth and old age; but in thecase of Mrs. Lumsden and Nan Dorrington, it was spanned by thesimplicity and tenderness common to both. Whether any of the ancients ormoderns have mentioned the fact, it is hardly worth while to inquire,but good-humour is a form of tenderness. Those who are easy to laugh arelikewise ready to be sorry, and they have a fund of sympathy to draw onwhenever the necessity arises. Simplicity and tenderness connect thehighest wisdom with the deepest ignorance, and find the elements ofbrotherhood where the intellect is unable to discern it. It wassimplicity and tenderness that bridged the gulf of years that laybetween the old gentlewoman and the young girl. Age can find no comfortfor itself unless it can make terms with youth. Where it stands alone,depending upon the respect that should belong to what is venerable,there is something gruesome about it. It quenches the high spirits ofchildren and young people, and chills their enthusiasm. All that it doesfor them is to give notorious advertisement to the complexion to whichthey must all come at last. "You see these wrinkled and flabbyfeatures, this gray hair, these faded and watery eyes, these shakinglimbs and trembling hands: well, this is what you must come to." And,indeed, it is an object lesson well calculated to sober and subdue thegiddy.
Now, age had dealt very gently with Gabriel's grandmother; it became herwell. Her white hair was even more beautiful now than it had been whenshe was young, as Meriwether Clopton often declared. Her eyes werebright, and all her sympathies were as keenly alive as they had beenfifty years before. She had kept in touch with Gabriel and the youngpeople about her, and none of her faculties had been impaired. She wasthe gentlest of gentlewomen.
Once Nan had asked her--"Grandmother Lumsden, what is the perfume Ismell every time I come here? You have it on your clothes."
"Life Everlasting, my dear." For one brief and fleeting instant, Nan hadthe odd feeling that she could see millions and millions of years intothe future. Life Everlasting! She caught her breath. But the vision orfeeling was swept away by the placid voice of Mrs. Lumsden. "I believeyou and Gabriel call it rabbit tobacco," she explained.
Nan had a great longing to be with Mrs. Lumsden the moment she heardthat Gabriel had been spirited away by the strong arm of the Government.She felt that she would be more comfortable there than at home.
"My dear, what put it into that wise little head of yours to come andcomfort an old woman?" Mrs. Lumsden asked, when Meriwether Clopton andMiss Fanny Tomlin had taken their departure. She was still sitting closeto Nan, caressing her hand.
"I thought you would be lonely with Gabriel gone, and I just made up mymind to come. I was afraid until I reached the door, and then I wasn'tafraid any more. If you don't want me, I'll soon find it out."
"I can't tell you how glad I am, Nan, to have you here; and I can guessyour feelings. No doubt you were shocked to hear that Francis Bethunehad been taken with the rest." The dear old lady had the knack ofclinging to her ideas.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Grandmother Lumsden. I care nomore for Mr. Bethune than I do for the others--perhaps not so much."
"I don't know why it is," said Mrs. Lumsden, "but I have always lookedforward to the day when you and Francis would be married."
"I've heard you talk that way before, and I've often wondered why youdid it."
"Oh, well! perhaps it is one of my foolish dreams," said Mrs. Lumsdenwith a sigh.
"Your father's plantation and that of Francis's grandfather are side byside, and I have thought it would be romantic for the heirs to joinhands and make the two places one."
"I can't see anything romantic in that, Grandmother Lumsden. It's like asum in arithmetic."
"Well, you must allow old people to indulge in their dreams, my dear.When you are as old as I am, and have seen as much of life, you willhave different ideas about romance."
"I hope, ma'am, that your next dream will be truer," said Nan, almostplayfully.
That night, Nan lay awake for a long time. At last she slipped out ofbed, felt her way around it, and leaned over and kissed Gabriel'sgrandmother. In an instant she felt the motherly arms of the oldgentlewoman around her.
"Is that the way you do, when Gabriel comes and kisses you in thenight?" whispered Nan wistfully.
"Yes, yes, my dear--many times."
"Oh, I am so glad!" the words exhaled from the girl's lips in along-drawn, trembling sigh. Then she went back to her place in bed, andsoon both the comforter and the comforted were sound asleep.
As has been hinted, the moment Mr. Sanders discovered there was someslight chance of getting a message to Gabriel, he became one of thebusiest men in Shady Dale, though his industry was not immediatelyapparent to his friends and neighbours. Among those whom he tookoccasion to see was Mr. Tidwell, whose son Jesse was among theprisoners.
"Gus," said Mr. Sanders, without any ceremony, "you remember the row youcome mighty nigh havin' wi' Tomlin Perdue, not so many years ago?"
"Yes; I remember something of it," replied Mr. Tidwell. He was a man whoordinarily went with his head held low, as though engaged in deepthought. When spoken to he straightened up, and thereby seemed to addseveral inches to his height.
"Well, it's got to be done over ag'in," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Ithappened in Malvern, didn't it?"
"Yes, in the depot," replied Mr. Tidwell. "We were both on our way toAtlanta, and the Major misunderstood something I had said."
"Egzackly! Well, it must be done over ag'in."
Mr. Tidwell lowered his head and appeared to reflect. Then hestraightened up again, and his face was very serious. "Mr. Sanders, hasTomlin Perdue been dropping his wing about that fuss? Has he been makingremarks?"
"Oh, I reckon not," replied Mr. Sanders cheerfully. "But I've got amighty good reason for axin' you about it. Come in your office, Gus, an'I'll tell you all I know, an' it won't take me two minnits."
They went in and closed the door, and remained in consultation for sometime. While they were thus engaged, Silas Tomlin came to the door, triedthe bolt, and finding that it would not yield, walked restlessly up anddown, preyed upon by many strange and conflicting emotions. He hadevidently gone through much mental suffering. His face was drawn andhaggard, and his clothes were shabbier than ever. He took no account oftime, but walked up and down, waiting for Mr. Tidwell to come out, andas he walked he was the victim both of his fears and his affections. Onemoment, he heartily wished that he might never see his son again; thenext he would have given everything he possessed to have the boy back,and hear once more the familiar, "Hello, father!"
After awhile, Mr. Sanders and Mr. Tidwell came forth from the lawyer'soffice. They appeared to be in fine humour, for both were laughing, asthough some side-splitting joke had just passed between them.
"There's no doubt about it, Mr. Sanders," Lawyer Tidwell was saying,"you ought to be a major-general!"
"I declare, Tidwell!" exclaimed Silas, with something like indignation,"I don't see how you can go around happy and laughing under thecircumstances. You do like you could fetch your son back with a laugh. Iwish I could fetch Paul back that way."
"Well, he'd stay whar he is, Silas," said Mr. Sanders, with a benevolentsmile, "ef his comin' back had to be brung about by any hilarity fromyou. Why, you ain't laughed but once sence you was a baby, an' when youheard the sound of it you set up a howl that's lasted ever sence."
"If you think, Silas, that crying will bring the boys back," said Mr.Tidwell, "I'll join you in a crying-match, and stand here and boohoowith you just as long as you want to."
"I just called by to see if you had heard any news," remarked Silas,taking no offence at the sarcastic utterances of the two men. "I am justobliged to get some news. I am on pins: I can't sleep at night; and myappetite is gone."
Mr. Sanders looked at the man's haggard face, and immediately becameserious and sympathetic. "Well, I tell you, Silas, you needn't worryanother minnit. The only one amongst 'em that's in real troub
le isGabriel Tolliver. I've looked into the case from A to Izzard, an' that'sthe way it stan's."
"That is perfectly true," assented Mr. Tidwell. "We can account for themovements of all the boys on the night of the killing except those ofTolliver; and he is in considerable danger. By the way, Silas, you saidsome time ago--oh, ever so long ago--that you would bring me a copy of_Blackwood's Magazine_. You remember there was a story in it you wantedme to read."
"No, I--well, I tried to find it; I hunted for it high and low; but Ihaven't been able to put my hands on it. But I've had so much trouble ofone kind and another, that I clean forgot it. I'm glad you mentioned it;I'll try to find it again."
"Well, as a lawyer," said Mr. Tidwell, somewhat significantly--or so itseemed to Silas--"I don't charge you a cent for telling you that yourcase wouldn't stand a minnit."
"My case--my case! What case? I have no case. Why, I don't know what youare talking about." He shook his head and waved his hand nervously.
"Oh, I remember now; your case was purely hypothetical," said Mr.Tidwell. "Well, your _Blackwood_ was wrong about it."
"That's what I thought," Silas assented with a grunt; and with that, heturned abruptly away, and went in the direction of his house.
"I'll tell you what's the fact," remarked Mr. Sanders, as he watched theshabby and shrunken figure retreat; "I'm about to change my mind aboutSilas. I used to think he was mean all through; but he's got a nice warmplace in his heart for that son of his'n. I declare I feel right sorryfor the man."
Before Cephas went away, he was not too busy learning the lessons Mr.Sanders had set for him to forget to hunt up Nan Dorrington and tell herthe wonderful news; to-wit, that he was about to go on a journey, andthat while he was gone he would most likely see Gabriel.
"Well," said Nan, drawing herself up a little stiffly, "what is that tome?" Unfortunately, Cephas had come upon the girl when she was talkingwith Eugenia Claiborne, who had sought her out at the Lumsden Place.
Cephas looked at her hard a moment, and then his freckled face turnedred. He was properly angry. "Well, whatever it may be to you, it's aheap to me," he said. "I hope it's nothing to you."
"Cephas, will you see Paul Tomlin?" asked Eugenia. "If you do, tell himthat one of his friends sent him her love."
"Is it sure enough love?" inquired Cephas.
"Yes, Cephas, it is," replied Eugenia simply and seriously--but her facewas very red. "Tell him that Eugenia Claiborne sent him her love."
"All right," said Cephas, and turned away without looking at Nan. Shehad hurt his feelings.
This turn of affairs didn't suit Nan at all. She ran after Cephas, andcaught him by the arm. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Cephas, to treatme so? How could I tell you anything before others? If you see Gabriel,tell him--oh, I don't know what to say. If I was to tell you what I wantto, you'd say that Nan Dorrington had lost her mind. No, I'll not sendany word, Cephas. It wouldn't be proper in a young lady. If he asksabout me, just tell him that I am well and happy."
She turned away, in response to a call from Eugenia Claiborne, but shekept her eyes on Cephas for some time. Evidently she wished to send amessage, but was afraid to. "Don't be angry with me, Cephas," she said,before the youngster got out of hearing. Cephas made no reply, buttrudged on stolidly. He was at the age when a boy is easily disgustedwith girls and young women. You may call them sweet creatures if youwant to, but a twelve-year-old boy is not to be deceived by fine words.The sweet creatures are under no restraints when dealing with smallboys, and the small boys are well acquainted with all their worsttraits. What is most strange is that this intimate knowledge is of noservice to them when they grow a little older. They forget all about itand fall into the first trap that love sets for them.
Cephas was angry without knowing why. He felt that both Gabriel andhimself had been insulted, though he couldn't have explained the natureof the insult; and he was all the angrier because he was fond of Nan.She had been very kind to the little boy--kinder, perhaps, than hedeserved, for he had made the impulsive young lady the victim of many apractical joke.
As Cephas went along, it suddenly occurred to him that he had done wrongto say anything about his proposed journey, and the thought took awayall his resentment. He whirled in his tracks, and ran back to where hehad left the girls. He saw Eugenia Claiborne sauntering along thestreet, but Nan was nowhere in sight. He had no trouble in pledging MissClaiborne to secrecy, for she was very fond of all sorts of secrets, andcould keep them as well as another girl.
Nan, she informed Cephas, had expressed a determination to visit him athis own home, and, in fact, Cephas found her there. She was as sweet assugar, and was not at all the same Nan who had drawn herself up proudlyand as good as told Cephas that it was nothing to her that he was goingto see Gabriel. No; this was another Nan, and she had a troubled look inher eyes that Cephas had never seen there before.
"I came to see if you were still angry, Cephas," she said by way ofexplanation. "I wasn't very nice to you, was I?"
"Well, I hope you don't mind Cephas," said the lad's mother. "If you do,he'll keep you guessing. Has he been rude to you, Nan?"
And it was then that Cephas heard praise poured on his name in a steadystream. Cephas rude! Cephas saucy! A thousand times no! Why, he was thebest, the kindest, and the brightest child in the town. Nan was so muchin earnest that Cephas had to blush.
"I didn't know," said his mother. "He has been going with those largeboys so much that I was afraid he was getting too big for his breeches."She loved her son, but she had no illusions about the nature of boys;she knew them well.
"Are you still angry, Cephas?" Nan asked. She appeared very anxious tobe sure on that score.
"N-o-o," replied Cephas, somewhat doubtfully; he hesitated to surrenderthe advantage that he saw he had.
"Yes, you are," said Nan, "and I think it is very unkind of you. I amsorry you misunderstood me; if you only knew how I really feel, and howmuch trouble I have, you would be sorry instead of angry."
"I'm the one to blame," said Cephas penitently. "Gabriel says youdislike him, and I thought he was only guessing. But he knew better thanI did. I had no business to bother you."
Nan caught her breath. "Did Gabriel say I disliked him?"
"He didn't say that word," replied Cephas. "I think he said you detestedhim, and I told him he didn't know what he was talking about. But hedid; he knew a great deal better than I did, because I didn't reallyknow until just now."
"But, Cephas!" cried Nan; "what could have put such an idea in hishead?" Cephas's mother was now busy about the house.
"I didn't know then, but I know now," remarked the boy stolidly.
"Don't be unkind, Cephas. If you knew me better, you'd be sorry for me.You and Gabriel are terribly mistaken. I'm very fond of both of you."
"Oh, _I_ don't count in this game," Cephas declared.
"Oh, yes, you do," said Nan. "You are one of my dearest friends, and sois Gabriel."
"All right," said Cephas. "If you treat all your dearest friends as youdo Gabriel, I'm very sorry for them."
"Cephas, if you tell Gabriel what I said while Eugenia Claiborne wasstanding there, all ears, I'll never forgive you." Nan was at her wit'send.
"Tell him that!" cried Cephas; "why, I wouldn't tell him that, not forall the world. I'll tell him nothing."
"Please, Cephas," said Nan. "Tell him"--she paused, and threw her hairaway from her pale face--"tell him that if he doesn't come home soon, Ishall die!" Then her face turned from pale to red, and she laughedloudly.
"Well, I certainly sha'n't tell him that," said Cephas.
"I didn't think you would," said Nan. "You are a nice little boy, and Iam going to kiss you good-bye. If you don't have something sweet to tellme when you come back, I'll think you detest me--wasn't that Gabriel'sword? Poor Gabriel! he's in prison, and here we are joking about him."
"I'm not joking about him!" exclaimed Cephas.
"Just as much as I am," said Nan; and then she leaned over and
kissedCephas's freckled face, leaving it very red after the operation.
Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction Page 27
