The Beguiled

by Thomas Cullinan

  Well that was true, depending on what you consider quite often, although I think now he didn’t really know it at all but was only guessing. Anyway I know it’s very wrong to eat meat on Fridays and I’ve had a great many serious battles with my conscience over it. Unfortunately when it comes to a contest between my conscience and my appetite, the latter is nearly always the stronger.

  Now Miss Martha, who I believe is secretly opposed to Catholicism although I think she would probably never admit it, makes things very difficult for me sometimes by having Mattie serve meat on Fridays when we haven’t had any for a solid week or maybe longer than that. As a matter of fact I mentioned this to Johnny one time and he agreed with me, even though he never paid any attention to the Friday rule himself while he was here. Of course, he explained his disregarding it by special permission which he claimed the Pope had granted to all Irish members of the Union Army.

  Naturally I didn’t believe it. I’m sure if the Pope was going to play any favorites in this war he’d pick our boys to grant the special favors to rather than the Yankees. After all, in this part of the country we have only one or two kinds of Protestant heretics such as Episcopalians like the Farnsworth sisters and Baptists like Mattie. Up there in the North they have hundreds of different kinds of fallen aways, to say nothing of pagans and Jews and the Lord only knows what other kinds of heathens.

  Well probably I ought to go back to the beginning of my disagreement with Johnny. I believe our troubles began on the day after—as Alice and Emily now put it—Miss Martha caught him in bed with Miss Harriet. Actually there’s no bed in that parlor but only the old settee, which certainly does play an important role in this story, if you stop to think of it.

  Unfortunately I didn’t see anything of what went on that night. I heard a few things but I didn’t see any of it because, although I started downstairs when the shouting began, Miss Martha was a little too quick for me. The way it was, she ran out of the parlor and shouted, “Any girl who comes down these stairs tonight is expelled from this school!”

  “What about if there’s a fire for pity’s sake,” I called back, but I don’t think she heard me because she went back into the parlor instantly and slammed the door.

  Well I probably would have taken a chance anyway and hurried down the stairs for a quick listen at the keyhole but the spy in our midst, Miss Emily Stevenson, grabbed me by the arm—wrenching it severely, I might add—and pulled me back before I could even go down one step.

  The matter wouldn’t’ve ended there, I can assure you, except that just then I happened to notice Alice Simms through Miss Martha’s open doorway. She was seated on Miss Martha’s bed, weeping as though her heart had been broken in at least nineteen different places. This, of course, caused Emily and I to forget our differences and the two of us went in to question Alice.

  Thus we learned, between sobs, of what had happened downstairs. Now I still don’t know how Alice happened to awaken and go down unless she had motives similar to Miss Harriet’s herself and was rudely jarred to find our teacher there first. Naturally I was a little reluctant to believe Alice’s explanation which was that she heard noises and began to worry about them and then went down to discover Edwina listening at the parlor door.

  Well my private scoffing at that was due to the fact that I am usually one of the lightest sleepers in this house and I didn’t hear anything until Miss Martha went down and the shouting began. Also to cast further doubt on Alice’s explanation is the fact that her room is on the third floor and it would take a person with extraordinarily sensitive ears to hear a first floor conversation all the way up there.

  Of course, even if you could poke holes in her reasons for going down, you couldn’t doubt her genuine unhappiness at what she had discovered. It really and truly seemed as though that girl had been nursing just the most awful crush on Johnny and now her whole existence was shattered. In fact she was weeping so hard that it was almost impossible for me to even get the whole story out of her.

  Anyway our questioning of Alice had to end just then because there was a new uproar from downstairs, and when Emily and I came out we found Miss Martha practically dragging her sodden sister up the stairs and McBurney, wrapped in his blanket like some poor bedraggled Indian, standing in the parlor doorway on his one leg and shouting, “Goddamit to hell I didn’t invite her! Sufferin Christ, I didn’t send for her! I ast her a thousand times to leave me be, but she wouldn’t, Goddamit!” And more profane utterances like that.

  Miss Martha paid no attention but continued trudging upward with one arm around Miss Harriet’s waist and using the other hand occasionally for a little tug at Miss Harriet’s hair, which you might have thought was to lift Miss Harriet’s sagging head out of the way so that our headmistress could see where she was going, but which a more experienced observer would have realized was in the nature of a nice little reprimand. I should add that Miss Harriet was attired in her night dress and robe now, as Miss Martha had evidently spent the interval in putting them back on her. Miss Harriet certainly didn’t seem at all regretful of her conduct but instead had just the silliest, lopsided grin on her face that you could ever imagine.

  Of course my impression of the scene had to be a very hasty one because as soon as Miss Martha saw Alice and me she began yelling at us to get to our rooms instantly or be prepared to face some terrible penalty or other. Naturally, eager Emily pretended to assume that the order didn’t apply to her and wanted to help Miss Martha with her burden but she received such a tongue lashing for her efforts that it did my heart good. Hearing Miss Emily put in her place in that way just contented me so much that I went to my room and closed my door as directed without complaining any more about it.

  My roommate was awake, of course—she’s even more alert to unusual disturbances than I am—but she hadn’t bothered to get up and see about it.

  “Well your friend is in trouble again,” I informed her as I got back into my own bed. “It’s rather serious trouble this time I’m afraid.”

  “I’ve told you biological situations don’t interest me when humans are involved,” Amelia said softly. “Also I’m rather worried about a problem of my own. My turtle is sick again.”

  “Do you think it’s anything really serious this time?” I asked hopefully. Frankly I expected to awaken some morning and find half my toes chewed off by that crazy turtle.

  “He didn’t eat his dinner,” Amelia replied, “and that’s not like him if he’s feeling all right.”

  “I don’t think I’d be too eager to eat my dinner either if it consisted of dirty old leaves and dried up bugs and beetles.”

  At that time Amelia was a regular little scavenger, you know, the way she’d go searching the house and barns and fields for dead insects to feed that idiotic turtle. Naturally she wanted you to believe that she never collected any bugs that weren’t already dead since she is so adverse to killing any wild thing, but I have always secretly suspected that on days when the supply of deceased bugs was scarce she may have stepped on one or two live ones and told herself it was an accident.

  “If Johnny is in awfully bad trouble here and you’re afraid some harm will come to him I could take him away from here,” she said now.

  “Where would we take him?” I emphasized the “we” because I felt the responsibility was as much mine as hers. She may have found him but he and I were of the same religion.

  “We could take him to my hiding place in the woods,” Amelia answered. “No one knows about that place but you and I.”

  “It mightn’t be a bad idea,” I remarked, rather taken with the novelty of it. “We could get food from the kitchen late at night and carry it out to him.”

  “And also blankets from our beds, in case he needs that kind of comfort.”

  “I don’t think he needs it any more than I do,” I said irritably. “Anyway we needn’t worry about it until we see how Miss Martha plans to
deal with him.”

  “Very likely she’ll just try to send him away again,” said Amelia drowsily.

  I didn’t see it that way. “He had his chance to leave and he didn’t take it. Even if he’d go quietly now I don’t think it would be enough to satisfy Miss Martha. She’ll want to punish him severely now.”

  Of course, just how she intended to do it was beyond my comprehension. And at that time I certainly wouldn’t have gone along with it no matter what the punishment involved, because up until then I had no grievances with Johnny.

  In fact the next morning I arose very early and went downstairs with Amelia to discuss the matter with him—and also to try and get a few more details about what had gone on the previous night between him and Miss Harriet.

  This was shortly after sunrise before anyone else in the house was awake. I’m not generally as early a riser as my roommate but that morning I opened my eyes almost as soon as she did and jumped out of bed, dressed and was ready in two minutes or less to follow her down the hall. All this was done without any conversation on our part. We knew exactly what we intended to do and there was no need to discuss it.

  I did make one little remark to her however as we tiptoed down the stairs, just to remind her how difficult it is to put anything over on me. “It certainly was lucky that I awakened, wasn’t it, because I don’t really think you intended to rouse me.”

  “That’s correct, I didn’t,” she admitted coolly. “It doesn’t take two of us to warn Johnny. I brought him in here and I can take him out without your help.”

  “Don’t be so selfish,” I told her.

  “It’s not selfishness. It’s just that you’re liable to create some kind of disturbance and ruin the whole thing. He’s much safer with me alone.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said I.

  “It is? You’re starting to make noise already. The whole house will be awake if you don’t stop talking.”

  “You’re talking as much as I am,” I let her know.

  “Please go to bed,” she begged me. “I can take him to the woods quickly and quietly. Then you can come out and see him later today.”

  “Absolutely not,” I replied. “If anyone goes, we both go.”

  And with a few more such argumentative remarks like that we entered the parlor. Now to my surprise, Johnny was wide awake, fully dressed and completely sober. He was sitting on the settee with his crutch on his lap, and he was shaven and combed as neatly as if he were bound for church instead of the woods. There was only one thing at all unusual about his appearance, if you wanted to disregard the neatness. That was the fact of his nervousness. He was trembling very noticeably as he sat there.

  “Well now,” said I by way of jollying him. “I don’t even see any signs of the famous party that is said to have taken place here last night. For one thing I don’t see any of the hundreds of empty bottles that were supposedly strewn all over the floor and on which Miss Alice Simms was supposedly tripping and stumbling in her haste to escape from here.”

  “There was only the three bottles,” he said in a low voice. “That’s all Miss Harriet brought in here. I put them in the kitchen if you want to see.”

  “No, I’ll take your word,” I said. “I know Alice exaggerates terribly. Well what about Miss Harriet then?”

  “I didn’t ask her to come down,” said he. “I tried to send her back upstairs. Honest to God I tried. She brought that wine in here and drank most of it herself, honest to God she did, and then she started takin off her clothes. I pleaded with her to stop but she wouldn’t. She just laughed and carried on like crazy, and then began to tear the shirt and pants off me. . . . Listen, honest to God, it’s not that I’m above a bit o’ business now and then in the dark, but I’m not that daft to be foolin with old women. . . .”

  “Oh I believe you, Johnny,” I told him, “and I’m sure Amelia does too, but we can’t speak for the others. As far as Miss Martha is concerned she probably wouldn’t want to believe you even if you could prove it . . . because of family honor, you know, and things like that.”

  “Mightn’t Miss Harriet tell the truth about it?” Amelia wondered.

  “Hardly,” I said. “Even if she remembers what actually happened—which is doubtful, considering how drunk she was—Miss Martha will never allow her to admit it.”

  “I’ve been thinkin,” said Johnny. “I’d better get outa here. I want no more of this loony place.”

  “Oh well, things aren’t so awfully bad, most days,” I said, thinking perhaps I ought to defend the school a bit.

  “You don’t know anything about it,” Johnny said. “You weren’t here to see her and listen to her . . . the way she was thinkin I was somebody else, or maybe it was only pretendin that she thought so. . . .”

  “If you really want to leave, that’s what we’ve come down for,” said Amelia. “We’re prepared to take you to a wonderful place in the woods.”

  “And what will I do there?” asked Johnny.

  “Hide. It’s a marvelous place for hiding,” Amelia told him.

  “For how long?”

  “For weeks,” said I, “or months maybe. Until the rainy season begins or the danger passes.”

  “What danger now?”

  “From Miss Martha’s temper. I think you probably ought to stay there until Miss Martha’s temper cools and that may take quite a while,” I said.

  “I think he ought to stay there from now on,” Amelia said. “I don’t think he ought to ever come back here at all. You’ll find it’s really very nice out there, Johnny. There’s an old hollow log you can sleep in at night and during the day there’s lots of interesting things for you to see. There are plants to identify and trees and birds and you’ll see lots of wonderful natural activity. Squirrels and chipmunks storing food, various insects in their courting rituals, foxes tending their young.

  “. . . And there’s plenty for you to eat . . . nuts and berries and wild honey . . . you could stay there forever, Johnny.”

  “You daft creature, what am I . . . some kind of animal?” he cried.

  “Yes, certainly that’s what you are,” she informed him coldly. “Only sometimes you’re not as nice as most of the other animals. However I found you and it’s my responsibility to look after you. Now do you want to go out to the woods or not?”

  “No, no . . . or at least not now, darlin,” he said.

  “Then I’ll leave it to you to tell me when,” said Amelia. “However if I were you, I wouldn’t wait too long.” And with that she marched out of the room.

  “I think you may have hurt her feelings,” I told him.

  “I don’t care if I have,” said he. “She must be as mad as some of these others here, thinkin I’d be wantin to lie out there in the damp and dirt with all them worms and crawly stingy things.”

  Well I’ll admit I wouldn’t’ve cared much for the life myself, but I felt I ought to stick up for my roommate. “Amelia’s a good friend of yours,” I let him know. “You want to remember that.”

  “You’re my best friend here, child, don’t you know that? You see things my way. You ain’t taken in by all this frippery and foolery around here. We’re both of the same faith too, ain’t we? Well then, you’re the one I must count on to help me.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I inquired.

  “Help me get away from here. And more than that, come a ways with me. I can’t travel far alone on one leg and no money and wearin what’s left of a Yankee uniform. If your boys get me I’ll be sent to Andersonville or some place worse, and if my fellas see me wanderin around down here, I’ll be shot before dark as a deserter. Will you come with me, Marie?”

  “Before I decide, tell me a little more about what Miss Harriet did last night,” I requested.

  “I can’t, I can’t, you little imp!”

  “Well then, what happened when Miss
Martha came down?”

  “She just hauled her sister outa here, that’s all! You devilish child, I’ve said too much already! Ah now won’t you come along with me, Marie. You know the roads around here, or at least some of them, and I could pass you off as my daughter, don’t ye see, or maybe my little sister even, and we’d win piles o’ sympathy that way.”

  “Take Alice or Edwina and pass her off as your wife.”

  “They wouldn’t go, neither of them, after last night!”

  “So I’m a third choice?”

  “No, you’re not, darlin. You’re my very first choice and Amelia would be my second, but I know she’d refuse to take me anywhere but the damned old woods. I want to get far away from here, Marie. Dammitall, I want to go home!”

  “Well naturally I can sympathize with that,” I said. “All of us would like to get away from this dreary place. In fact I’m planning to go home myself as soon as my father comes by to fetch me. That’s the reason I can’t go anywhere with you right now, Johnny.”

  “But it wouldn’t be for very long. Just until we got to the other side of the river and away from both armies. It wouldn’t be more than a day or two or a week at most. I’d be safe then and I could go it alone and send you back here by the railway cars.”

  “I don’t think there are any railway cars running in this vicinity at the moment.”

  “Well then you could come back by carriage or some other way. I’d find some quick way to get you back here.”

  “Where would you get the money since you don’t have any now?”

  “I’d raise it somewheres. A poor cripple with a sweet-lookin little girl wouldn’t have any trouble raisin money.”