by Lee Smith
My instincts are Infallible.
For Simon Black really is the Devil, I have known it all along. I have a sense of these things. Now I see that He wanted me only as a caretaker, a teacher, a nursemaid. For He has marked Molly Petree as His Own, & He will come back to claim her. I know it absolutely. Thank God that I myself have been spared his dark Attentions.
And now to the Bath.
Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia
On a final note, I wonder how much one should punish oneself for a sin committed only in the Mind, as opposed to Actuality? In other words, what part intentionality and what part actuality go to make up a Sin? For I feel as guilty as if I had committed the Act. I must Atone.
• • •
Molly Petree
Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia
August 26, 1878
Dear Mary White,
We are leaving here, Agnes and myself, I write while she flits around this little stone house like a moth in the wavy light of all our candles and lamps burning at once, for it is late and we have not much time. I still cannot believe we are leaving. For I have been happy here in this quiet life, we have tea and read books, and take the girls on walks and expeditions, and give drama productions written by me, every other Friday evening. But now Agnes is packing up all she owns, which I have already done. Mine did not take long. Primus will drive us up to Danville at first light, then Agnes has hired a hack to take us on from there. It is all arranged. Chloe our cat will come too in her wicker basket.
I do not expect to sleep a wink all night. This is due to excitement not pain, for my eye does not even hurt now.
Agnes is a heroine.
You might not think it to look at her, for she is so slight and almost wispy somehow, as if she might blow away, she looks like this especially right now for her fine wavy hair escapes its bun to form a gentle halo around her head as she marches past in her night gown, arms full, red spots on her cheeks and her little mouth set in a line of determination. She looks like an avenging angel which she is.
Agnes and I and Bessie Barwick and Frances Tuttle (who are old, who have nowhere else to go) have been the only teachers left at Gatewood Academy for the past two weeks, save for the Snows, of course. The students were just arriving for start of term when word came of smallpox at the Military Institute, one cadet dead and two more fallen ill. We had to meet our girls at the gate and turn them back, Mrs. Snow beside herself with frustration. Then her own little Harry, not two, took sick and died. We buried him this morning in the old Gatewood family plot across the road, in a wooden box which looked so small to me as Primus shoveled the dirt on top of it, and so sad, for children are sad, they have no say in anything, anything at all. Mrs. Snow was not present at the service, being prostrate with grief. Dr. Snow said the words. We all stood out in the weedy grass under a heavy sky, with lightning off in the distance. Raindrops as big as quarters began to splash on the stone walk just as we came back through the wrought iron gate into the yard.
“Let’s run,” Agnes said, pulling my hand, but I stood still in the yard and turned my face up to the rain which I have always loved to do, remember how you and I used to dance around up on Indian Rock when it thundered. Those days are long gone, and I am a young lady now and a teacher, but I still want to run and scream when it storms. Agnes would not understand this, though she loves me. I guess I am sort of crazy! But I don’t care.
I stood out there until it quit raining and I was thoroughly wet and then the sun came out shining off the drops on all the old-fashioned white musk roses and the bridal wreath and the sweet shrubs. It is like all the flowers are blooming as hard and as fast as they can right now because they know fall is coming soon, and they will die. A steady stream of water ran down off the roof from the high gable where I lived in the attic room for so long with my girlfriends, it seems like ages ago. Steam rose from the black earth around the sundial, it was like the whole garden was breathing. I closed my eyes and took in the thick sweet scent of the roses until a shiver ran over my entire body and I opened my eyes suddenly to find Dr. Snow, still in his heavy black suit, standing right in front of me, quite close.
He looked like a scarecrow in the garden.
“Ah, Molly,” he said.
I jumped back stepping on some of Mrs. Snow’s petunias. I knew I looked a sight with my hair falling down and my dress all wet and sticking to me. “I was just going in to change clothes,” I said.
“No, wait—,” he moved closer, awkwardly. “You are such a pretty girl,” he said in a strange voice which I would not have recognized. He reached out to touch my breast, then began to stroke me. For a moment I stood quite still, looking out across his shoulder at the school. I remember thinking how empty and golden the garden seemed at that moment, as if it were a stage set. I felt like I was under a spell. “Come along now, Molly,” he said, “just for a moment.” He cleared his throat. “Since Mrs. Snow is incapacitated and we have so few of our faculty here now, I shall need to ask you to perform a few additional duties.” He sounded very formal, though his blue eyes popped and his face was brick red. “Especially as your handwriting is so fine,” he added. “Can you come with me now?” He pulled me roughly in the direction of his office, almost a twin of the fairy house I share with Agnes.
But the spell was broken.
“No Sir,” I said, hitting him as hard as I could in his ugly red nose and pushing him backward at the same time so that he fell against the sundial, and me with him, into the wet black dirt. “No Sir,” I said again as suddenly Nicky Eck came into my mind, and that little girl who lay on the floor of the barn, and how Spencer came to pick her up, up, and up, and I felt suddenly like I was flying, full of power, and I kicked him, Mary White, I cannot remember it really but I know I kicked him for Harry, and for Spencer, for Spencer is dead and I had loved him with all my heart. I do not like Dr. Snow, nor Mrs. Snow, nor even Simon Black who is my benefactor, for there is something awful about having a benefactor. I kicked Dr. Snow again, I kept remembering how it felt when Spencer lifted me up but how he is dead now like they all are, all my ghosts. But I do not want to die yet. I ran across the garden to our own little house with Dr. Snow calling out after me, and suddenly I looked up and saw that there was a rainbow in the sky. A rainbow! It started out over in the direction of town and ended up in the orchard.
I ran into our house and told Agnes everything.
“Oh Molly,” she said, dropping her embroidery onto the floor. “Come on now, we must get you cleaned up, and then we must go to Mariah immediately. We have to tell her. She will know what to do.”
“I think that is a terrible idea,” I said immediately.
“Oh no, you underestimate my sister, she will fix everything, you’ll see. Why just look at your poor face,” for I had hit my cheek somehow on the sundial.
Agnes rinsed it off with a cool wet towel, and dragged me out the door.
They were waiting for us in the parlor, seated in the red velvet chairs on either side of the fireplace, as still as those figurines on the sideboard at Agate Hill. Mrs. Snow’s skin had gone dead white. Her black hair swooped back in great stiff wings on each side of her face. Dark circles smudged her pale gray eyes. Her long thin fingers plucked at the folds in her skirt.
“Oh Mariah,” Agnes began all breathless, but Mrs. Snow held up her hand, palm outward, in that way she has. “Do not even attempt to talk to me about the particularities of this incident, Agnes,” she said. “Dr. Snow and I are in total accord.”
For the first time I looked directly at Dr. Snow, who sat holding a white handkerchief to his nose. He had put on another jacket, but his pants and his shoes still bore traces of mud from the garden. I wondered if his rib cage still hurt where I had kicked him. I hoped so. He stared back at me, eyes narrowed, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. A Monarch butterfly fluttered in the butterfly bush outside the parlo
r window.
“I wonder if you really do know what the particularities of this incident are,” Agnes said, to my surprise. Red dots of color had appeared on her cheeks.
“I know more than enough, thank you, my dear sister. I know all I need to know.”
“And what is that, Mariah?” Agnes kept right after her, like a dog on a bone, as Selena would have said. “What is it that you think you know?”
Mrs. Snow took a deep breath and clutched the arms of her chair. “I know that your little friend Molly Petree is not what you think. Molly the beautiful, Molly the brilliant, Molly the poor orphan girl! Well, poor Molly may have pulled the wool over everyone else’s eyes, but not over mine, I can assure you. I know that she attempted to seduce my husband, as if he would ever want the likes of her!” Mrs. Snow’s sunken eyes bored straight into mine. “I know that when he attempted to reason with her, she attacked him, which is no surprise to anyone. Indeed, none of this comes as any surprise to me, I regret to say. It merely confirms the opinion I have held of Molly ever since her arrival at Gatewood Academy. For I am quite a judge of character, I pride myself upon it as you know.”
“But Molly did nothing.” Agnes interrupted her. “Nothing at all. Dr. Snow … made advances to her. He touched her, Mariah.”
“Enough!” Mrs. Snow stood up, an immense black figure seeming to grow while we watched. “I will not listen to any more of this filth. Dr. Snow has told me all about her behavior in the garden. I know and have always known what you are, Molly Petree, do you hear me?” And the horrible thing was that I did hear her, and I feared that she was right, in spite of myself. “I cannot run the risk of having you at Gatewood Academy any longer,” she concluded.
Suddenly the blue veins stood out in Dr. Snow’s wide white forehead. “Now wait a second, Mariah—” He stood up. “Just hold your horses,” he said. “A stern admonition will suffice here, as we discussed.”
“No.” Mrs. Snow held out her hand again in that palm-up gesture she has. “We cannot have her here, poisoning our girls. Corrupting them. You know that we cannot, Dr. Snow.” She stared at him wildly. “Whatever are you thinking of? This girl must leave Gatewood immediately.”
“Good,” I said, turning to go.
“Wait,” Agnes whispered.
I had reached the door when Dr. Snow recovered himself. “Molly, I’m sure you do not wish to jeopardize your entire future,” he said sharply. “Agnes, stay right there. Keep Molly right there. Mariah, let us counsel together a bit, my darling. Let us think upon our Christian obligations as well as our practical considerations. Let us remember that we are in part a charitable organization, Mariah, and in particular let us recall that you were once a girl such as Molly, in need of kindness and guidance yourself—” He hissed these words at her as he took her elbow and urged her toward the door.
“I was? I was?” Mrs. Snow was screaming. She tore at her face and hair with her fingernails. “I was nothing like her. Nothing. I was an educated girl, a governess. I? I was tricked, then used, then vilified, then abandoned, then left in the most terrible circumstances with my little child, forced into the most degrading sorts of employment— I was nothing like her.”
“Mariah, this is not necessary.” Dr. Snow attempted to put his arms around her, but she batted him off as if he were an annoying child. Her face was bleeding, her black hair stood out all around her head like Medusa.
“Who did this to you, Mariah? Dr. Snow?” Agnes’s voice was calm and clear. She stepped forward, placing herself between them and the door.
“Him? Lord, no.” Mrs. Snow rolled her eyes. “Not him, oh no, are you serious? He would not have been worth it, why he could not hold a candle to—” She bit her lip. “No, I met Dr. Snow somewhat later, in Baltimore, a preacher who had lost his church. Doctor! He is no doctor. Let me tell you, I made him. I made him up! As well as this school which he seems determined to lose through his ridiculous decisions. Accepting the devil’s spawn—” She gave Dr. Snow a final push and swept out the door, brushing Agnes aside.
Dr. Snow turned to face us. “Girls, as you can see, Mariah is not herself. In fact, you must ignore this outburst altogether, as it is nothing but the product of a fanciful, overtaxed, diseased mind. She is quite insane with grief. I must get her to bed somehow, I must send for Dr. Greene …” He paused, thinking. Suddenly he looked very old. “Agnes, will you help me?” he asked.
“No Sir, I will not,” Agnes said firmly, to my surprise, as she is generally the most helpful person in the world.
Dr. Snow stumbled into the hall, calling for Primus.
I stood there staring at Agnes. “I don’t understand,” I said.
“Nevermind,” she said briskly. “Come along now, Molly, we have things to do.”
And we have been doing them ever since! The first thing Agnes did was to cut the string which held the asafetida bag around my neck. “Quarantine is over,” she announced. “For we are leaving here as soon as possible.” And we are! But I will write to you always, Mary White, I will find out where you are, and send these letters, for I remain your true friend,
Molly Petree
“Adieu”
As duly recorded by Agnes Rutherford
To the attention of Mrs. Mariah Snow,
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
August 27, 1878
Farewell, Sister Mariah,
For this is how I shall always think of you, unspoken, secret Mother, though I do understand that perhaps you did the best you could for the two of us, given your circumstances as you describe them. Who can ever understand the anguish of another human soul? Not I, and far be it from me to judge.
I was going to recommend Rowena Drabble for a post that has come to my attention, but now I have recommended myself. I am taking Molly with me, to remove her from harm’s way. Your secrets will remain safe with me only so long as you and Dr. Snow do not attempt to follow us, or contact us in any way.
God Bless You,
Agnes
FOR NO ONE’S EYES
August 30, 1878
So now they are gone, while I remain here trapped in this cold stone school. Good riddance! I shall not miss them. Though I confess that I envy them, with all my heart.
The world was all before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide;
They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary way.
Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia
FOR NO ONE’S EYES
September 8, 1878
Gave birth.
Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia
Further Notes from Tuscany (FYI)
GATEWOOD ACADEMY SONG
Months of pleasure, months of joy,
We together here have spent.
Freely, and without alloy
Many mercies God has sent.
Hoping soon to meet again,
Fare you well.
Gentle teachers, good and kind,
Thank you for your tender care,
We shall ever bear in mind
All the blessings each now share.
Hoping soon to meet again,
Fare you well.
Loved companions, schoolmates dear
We must bid you all adieu.
You we love with hearts sincere,
We will still remember you.
Hoping soon to meet again,
Fare you well.
REMEDIES
1. CURE FOR AGUE: use 1 ounce best powdered Rhubarb and piece of Pearl Ash size of a large nutmeg; pour on 1 pt. boiling water stirring well. When cool, bottle it. Dose: 1 tablespoon before breakfast and the same an hour before dinner. Shake bottle before taking it.
2. TREATMENT OF DEPRESSION AND SLEEP DISTURBANCES: Pour one cup boiling water over 1 to 2 teaspoons Saint-Joh
n’s-wort flowers or leaves. Steep.
TUSCANY MILLER
30-B Peachtree Court Apts.
1900 Court Blvd.
Atlanta, GA 30039
Hi Dr. F.,
The Gatewood Academy closed its doors in 1880, apparently they could not keep on going after Simon Black withdrew his financial aid. Mrs. Snow was put into the state insane asylum at Staunton, VA. Dr. Snow disappeared. (I don’t have a clue whatever happened to all those children, Dr. Ferrell!) The school itself is still standing but has now become a home for unwed mothers affiliated with the Reverend Jerry Falwell’s ministry as I said. Girls can go there and have a baby and get their GEDs at the same time, and be ministered unto.
Now here is what happened to some of Gatewood girls:
Emma Bell Page became a famous missionary to China.
Phoebe Taylor married a Boston minister and had eight children, one of them was a Senator.
Harriet Stokes (the one who was “heavy” at graduation) had a baby soon afterward, to her surprise, claiming virgin birth.
Eliza Valiant married her boyfriend Danny Butterworth, had several children immediately, then died at thirty of something that sounds like an ectopic pregnancy, though I don’t know whether they had those back then or not.
Mime Peeler never married at all, but lived with her parents in Roanoke, Virginia, where she taught piano lessons and played the organ at the First Methodist Church for the rest of her life.
Courtney Leigh Lutz killed herself at thirty-four by jumping off an ocean liner bound for France.
And if you want to know what happened to Molly and Agnes, just keep reading! The next part is by Agnes, it is on file in the Historical Society Reading Room at the Ashe County Public Library in West Jefferson, NC, you will soon see why.
Hopefully yours,
Tuscany Miller
