CHAPTER IX
THE MEMORIES OF GREAT-AUNT LUCIA
Cynthia sat at her desk in high school, alternately staring out of thewindow, gazing intently across the room at Joyce, and scowling at theblackboard where the cryptic symbols
(a + b)^2 = a^2 + 2ab + b^2
were being laboriously expounded by the professor of mathematics. Ofthis exposition, it is safe to say, Cynthia comprehended not a word forthe following simple reason. Early that morning Joyce had returned fromthe visit to her great-aunt Lucia and had entered the class-room late.Cynthia had not yet had a moment in which to speak with her alone. Itwas now the last period of the day, and her impatience had completelyconquered her usual absorbed attention to her studies.
The professor droned on. The class feverishly copied more crypticsymbols in its notebooks. But at last the closing-bell rang, and afterwhat seemed interminable and totally unnecessary delays, Cynthia foundherself out of doors, arm-in-arm with Joyce. Then all she could find tosay was:
"Now--_tell me_!" But Joyce was very serious, and very mysterious too.
"Not here," she answered. "I couldn't! Wait!"
"Well, where and when, then?" cried Cynthia.
"Home," said Joyce. Then, after a moment,--"No, I'll tell you in theBoarded-up House! That's the most appropriate place. We'll go therestraight after we get home." So Cynthia was obliged to repress herimpatience a little longer. But at length they had crept through thecellar window, lighted their candles, and were proceeding up-stairs.
"Come into the library," said Joyce. "I want to stand right where I canlook at the Lovely Lady when I tell you this. It's all so strange--so_different_ from what we thought!" So they went through thedrawing-room, entered the library, and placed their candlesticks on themantel where the light would best illuminate the portrait of the LovelyLady. Then Joyce began.
"Great-aunt Lucia is very old and very feeble. She seemed _so_ glad tosee us all,--especially me. She talked to me a great deal, but I did nothave a chance to mention this place to her at all till the last eveningwe were there. Mother and Father had gone out to call on some friends,but it was raining and I had a sore throat, so they decided not to takeme. I was so glad, because then I could stay home and talk to Great-auntLucia, and it was the first time I'd been with her long alone.
"She had been telling me a lot about when she was a little girl, andasking me about myself. And I had told her about you and how we'd beentogether so many years, and what we did when we weren't in school. Andfinally I mentioned, just casually, that we often played in the groundsof this old house next door and described the place a little to her.Well, that started her, as I was sure it would! She began telling methat it was so strange,--that she had been in this house once, andcuriously enough, just before it was closed for good. Then, you canwarrant, I listened with all my ears!
"She said she had become acquainted with the lady through meeting her ashort time before at the house of a friend in New York. This friend hadthen introduced them,--'Mrs. Hubert Kenway--Mrs. Fairfax Collingwood'!"
"_Mrs._ Collingwood!" cried Cynthia. "And we thought she wasn'tmarried!--"
"Well, she was,--and we've made several mistakes beside that, CynthiaSprague, as you'll find out later! It seems that Great-aunt Lucia tookquite a fancy to young Mrs. Collingwood. She was so sweet and graciousand charmingly pretty. Later, Great-aunt Lucia discovered that she was awidow, living out here. Her husband had been dead a number ofyears,--ten, I think. She was a Southerner, having come originally fromSouth Carolina.
"Great-aunt Lucia did not see her again till a few weeks later, when shereceived an invitation to go with her friend, take luncheon, and spendthe day at Mrs. Collingwood's. There were several others invited, abouta dozen in all. They all came out by train and drove here in hiredcarriages from the station, which was a long way off then. It was abeautiful, soft, balmy April day, and spring seemed well begun.
"Great-aunt Lucia said the place was delightful,--an old, Colonial house(it seemed so strange to hear her describe everything just as we've seenit!). And Mrs. Collingwood was a charming hostess. But they were justfinishing luncheon when the strangest thing happened!
"A servant came in and handed Mrs. Collingwood a telegram as she sat atthe head of the table. She excused herself to them, tore open theenvelope and read it. Then, to their astonishment, she turned first afiery red, and afterward white as a sheet. Then she sprang to her feetsaying, 'Oh!' in a sort of stifled voice. Everyone jumped up too, someso quickly that they knocked over their chairs and asked if anythingdreadful was the matter. Then, all of a sudden, she toppled over andslipped to the floor in a dead faint."
"Didn't I _tell_ you so, long ago!" exclaimed Cynthia. "I _said_ sheprobably fainted!"
"Yes, you were right. Well, two or three began to chafe her hands andface, and the rest sent the servants flying for smelling-salts andvinegar. Everything was confusion for a few minutes, till she presentlycame to. Then they all began again to question her about what was thematter, but she wouldn't tell them. She just said:
"'I've had bad news, dear friends, and it has made me feel quite ill. Itis something I cannot speak about. I hope you will not think methoroughly inhospitable, if I go to my room for a while.' They all toldher she must certainly go and lie down, and that they would leaveimmediately. She begged them not to hurry, but of course they saw thatit wasn't best to stay, since she wouldn't let them do anything for her.So, fifteen minutes later they were all driving away in the carriageswhich had remained for them at the house. And--" here Joyce pauseddramatically,--"not one of them, except my great-aunt's friend, Mrs.Durand, ever saw her again!"
"But--but--" began Cynthia.
"Wait," said Joyce. "I haven't finished yet! Of course, all of them werecrazy to know what happened, but most of them never did,--not till long,long afterward, anyway. There was one that did know soon, however, andthat was Mrs. Durand. Two nights afterward, Mrs. Durand was astounded tohave Mrs. Collingwood arrive at her house in New York, and beg to beallowed to stay there a day or two. She was dressed entirely in black,and carried only a small grip. Of course, Mrs. Durand took her right in,and that night Mrs. Collingwood told her what had happened.
"But first, I must tell you that Mrs. Collingwood had a son--"
"_What?_" gasped Cynthia, staring up at the girlish picture.
"Yes, a son! And not a baby, either, but a fine, handsome young fellowof seventeen. Great-aunt Lucia says that Mrs. Collingwood was marriedwhen she was only seventeen, and that she was thirty-five when all thishappened. But she looked much younger. So that accounts for our mistake!The son was away at Harvard College,--or at least they _thought_ he was,at the time of the luncheon. But Great-aunt Lucia says that the sameafternoon, as they were driving to the station, they met a splendidyoung fellow with yellow hair and bright brown eyes, hurrying along theroad in the opposite direction. He took off his cap to them gaily, andMrs. Durand whispered that it was young Fairfax Collingwood, evidentlycoming home unexpectedly. Great-aunt Lucia says she will never forgethis excited, happy look!
"Now, I'll go back to Mrs. Durand and Mrs. Collingwood. (And all thatfollows, Mrs. Durand told Great-aunt Lucia long, long long afterward.)Mrs. Collingwood came into the house, and her face looked set like astone, and she seemed twenty years older than when she was having theluncheon. And Mrs. Durand cried:
"'Oh, my dear, you have lost some one? You are dressed in mourning!'
"'Yes,' said Mrs. Collingwood. 'I have lost my son! I am going away.'And Mrs. Durand said:
"Oh, how--how sudden! He can't be _dead_! We saw him!' And Mrs.Collingwood answered:
"'He is dead to me!' And for the longest time, Mrs. Durand couldn't getanother word from her, except that she had shut up the house and wasgoing home South, to live for good. Well, Mrs. Durand put her right tobed,--she was fairly sick with nervousness and exhaustion. And late thatnight, she broke down and cried and cried, and told Mrs. Durandeverything.
"And, oh, Cynthia! _What_ do you think
it was? You'd never guess!-- Youknow, the Civil War had just broken out,--Fort Sumter had surrenderedand Mrs. Collingwood was a South Carolina woman, and was heart and soulwith the Confederacy. She had married a Northern man, and had lived eversince up here, but that didn't make any difference. And all the time warhad been threatening, she had been planning to raise a company in SouthCarolina for her son Fairfax, and put him in command of it. They didthose things at that time. Her son didn't know about it, however. Shewas keeping the news to surprise him.
"And then, that day at luncheon, she received a telegram from him sayinghe had left college and enlisted--_in the Union army_--and was cominghome at once to bid her good-bye before going to the front! The shock ofit almost killed her! But later she thought that surely, when he came,she could persuade him out of it.
"And he came that very afternoon. The ladies had met him walking up fromthe train. She would not tell Mrs. Durand just what happened, butintimated that they had had a dreadful scene. You see, the young fellowhad been born and brought up in the North, and _his_ sympathies were allwith _that_ side, and he was just as enthusiastic about it as his motherwas about the other. And besides, she'd never talked to him much aboutthe Southern cause, so he didn't realize how she felt. At last, when hewouldn't give in, she admitted to Mrs. Durand that she disowned him, andtold him never to see her face again.
"When he had gone to his room to pack his things, she went and dismissedher servants, and told them to go at once. Then she locked herself inher room till her boy went away. She never saw him again! After he hadgone, that night, she collected all her silver and hid it, and partiallypacked her own things, and then decided she wouldn't take them with her.And when she had gone around shutting up the house, it was morning. Assoon as it was daylight, she went out and got an old colored carpenterwho lived nearby to come and board up the windows and doors. She hadthe boarding all in the cellar, for it had been made two years beforewhen she went to Europe for six months. It took him nearly all day tofinish the work, while she stood around and gave directions. I don't seehow she had the strength to do it! When it was all done, she locked thedoor, walked to the station, took the train for New York, and came toMrs. Durand." Joyce paused in her recital, from sheer lack of breath,and Cynthia took advantage of the silence.
"So _that_ was the way of it! And _we_ thought it was her brother, andthat he'd done something awful,--committed a robbery or forgedsomething! I don't see why that young Fairfax should have been treatedso! I think what he did was fine!"
"You must remember," said Joyce, "that people felt so differently aboutsuch things in those days. We can't quite realize it now, and shouldn'tjudge them for the way they acted. I suppose Mrs. Collingwood could haveforgiven him more easily if he'd committed a burglary instead! AndGreat-aunt Lucia says she was terribly high-tempered, too.
"I _can't_ understand it, even so!" insisted Cynthia. "But did yourgreat-aunt say anything about those pictures?"
"No, but I asked her if Mrs. Collingwood had any other children, and shesaid she understood that Fairfax had been a twin, but his little sisterhad died when she wasn't much more than three years old. So that's theexplanation of the two babies in the other room. I suppose Mrs.Collingwood didn't tell all,--in fact I said she didn't tell any detailsabout what happened that night. Probably she turned the portrait aroundand tore out the miniature when she was alone. But I haven't finished mystory yet!"
"Oh, do go on then!" implored Cynthia.
"Mrs. Collingwood stayed at her friend's house two days," continuedJoyce, "and then left for her old home in a little town in SouthCarolina and never came North again. Mrs. Durand never saw her again,either, but used to hear from her at very long intervals. But here'swhere the awful thing comes in. After the battle of Shiloh, a yearlater, when the papers published the list of killed--FairfaxCollingwood's name was among the first! So he did not live very long,you see. But what a terrible thing for the poor mother to think that sheand her son had parted in anger, and now were never, never to meetagain, and make it all up! Oh, I can hardly bear to think of it!"Joyce's eyes were full of tears, as she gazed up at the proud, beautifulface above them.
"Well, that's the end of the story, and that's the tragedy and mysteryabout this Boarded-up House. Oh!--there's one other thing,--Great-auntLucia says she thinks Mrs. Collingwood is still alive,--a very old lady,living down in the little old South Carolina town of Chesterton. Shewill never allow this old house to be touched nor let any one enter it.But she has made a will, leaving it to the Southern Society when shedies. That's positively all, and you see everything is explained."
"No, it isn't!" retorted Cynthia. "You haven't explained _one_ thing, atall!"
"What's that?" asked Joyce.
"The mystery of the locked-up room!" replied Cynthia.
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