Collected Works of Booth Tarkington

by Booth Tarkington

  There sounded a call from ahead, and I was aware of a horseman who made his approach at a rapid gait. Taking off his hat with a flourish, he disclosed to our eyes the features of the ribald O’Donnell. He was mounted on his own horse, his saddle-bags betokening his intention to continue his journey.

  He hailed the innkeeper with a shout:

  “We missed ye, Hoag, and I placed me-self at the head of a reconnoitrin’ party, consistin’ of meself, to look for ye. Saints and martyrs! What black tatterdemalion have ye there?”

  He squinted his eyes and stared at me, astonished.

  “Are ye captive to a blackamoor, or are ye just towin’ a gentleman got up for a masquerade?”

  “Pay no attention to him or you suffer from my steel!” I said, savagely, to Hoag. “Have you not already followed the malevolent advisings of the meddlesome and mischievous to your present undoing? Concentrate your mind upon your miseries, and-”

  “Be the gods of perdition, ’tis me little man!” cried O’Donnell, reining back. “Young Erasmus! No! Yes! No! Upon me soul, it is, it is. ’Tis that marvellous bird a-driv-in’ our quadruplex Bacchus be force and arms at the point of the sword, and as disfigured as St. Peter’s toe!”

  He rode up beside us. “What in the world has happened to ye, me Achilles? And what has Hector done that ye drag him round the walls in ignominy and disgrace?” He seemed utterly taken aback.

  “Go your ways, Captain Blacknight!” I answered, grimly. “And be glad that you escape the scaffold. This wretch comes with me to make his confession to the unprotected old man whose carriage you so treacherously assaulted.”

  “Ha, ha!” shouted the disreputable Irishman. “Is that the tune of it? And so ye weren’t abed, after all, me little Achilles! Sure I’d like to be stoppin’ to see, for there’ll be warm times at the inn, I’m takin’ me oath! Give me love to Mr. Gray, and pass him me compliments on his noble powers of swearin’, and on the elegant new son-in-law he’s gettin’ for a Christmas present!”

  “What do you mean?” I demanded.

  “Sure, one of ye is bound to be selected,” he answered, “and I’m thinkin’ that same’ll take place this very mornin’. Good-luck to ye both!” he concluded, “and God help the old man!”

  Deigning no reply, I ordered Hoag to march on, offering him, if he did not, a thwack from the cutlass, but the Irishman urged his horse across our path.

  “Beggin’ pardon for me interferin’ disposition,” he said. “Landlord, me reckonin’ is paid. And — man, do ye want a rescue?”

  Hoag only shook his head gloomily.

  “Then I wish ye a merry Christmas!” cried O’Donnell, wheeling about. “Come to see me when ye visit New York, Mr. Sudgeberry. I’ve some friends there that I wouldn’t have miss ye for the world. Merry Christmas! The merriest Christmas that ever was to ye both!”

  With that, laughing in utter shamelessness, he rode away. I looked to see him stop at the inn to warn Fentriss; but we were now close on; he appeared to think better of it, so, with a wave of his hand, he clapped heels to his horse’s sides and was gone.

  Smoke came pouring out of the chimneys of the tavern; ruddy fires shone through the window-panes; and in the stable-yard Mr. Gray’s chaise (with most of the varnish knocked off) stood waiting, while the horses were being led to and fro. As we entered the main door I saw that everything had been made bright, clean, and cheery. A smug barmaid stood ready to courtesy; men-servants bustled in and out, bearing steaming dishes, or ran here and there with fresh logs of firewood; for the knaves had learned their lessons well, and, in spite of the absence of their master, had fled straight from the assault to the inn, where, no doubt, they had greeted the travellers’ tale of the attack with the neatest innocence and wonderment.

  The landlord exhibited an almost violent reluctance to go in, but I overcame his objections with another reference to the law and his own crime. In fact, having no more fear of him, from the moment of his first fright, than of a calf, I gave him another poke with my sword, upon which his resistance collapsed utterly, and he passed in-doors in a state of piteous dejection.

  At sight of us the bar-maid emitted a scream, and covered her face with her apron; a man carrying a great platter of eggs and bacon dropped it to the floor; two other knaves, variously laden, staggered back in consternation, giving way before us; and without more ado I stepped to the door of the room in which we had supped the preceding evening. It stood one-quarter ajar. The landlord came to a halt, turning his head to me in a last mute appeal to proceed no farther, and I paused to look within.

  The scene which met my gaze was cosey, appetizing, warmly lit by the fire on the hearth and by the long, horizontal rays of the sun, which now shone red on the windows. The fresh, white cloth sparkled with its load of cutlery and china. Never was completer comfort seen, nor three cheerier people than those who sat before me.

  Mr. Gray was ensconced upon one side of the table, applying himself heartily to a dish of cutlets, while opposite him, neglecting the viands before them, and with chairs whose proximity I instantly marked, sat that false conspirator and Miss Sylvia. The deep blush which suffused her brow, as she hearkened to his cooing, was near the color of the ribbons she wore, for her travelling-cloak was unclasped, and at her throat I caught the flicker of those cherry ribbons which I still so strangely remember — those cherry ribbons which she flaunted both this winter morning and that other day in June.

  As for my feelings at sight of the happy party, I choked with indignation and just wrath to see them all so ‘comfortable, especially the villain who had caused the trouble. He looked as fresh and neat as if he had just risen from an honest slumber on a Sabbath morning, while I, for his sins, must needs present a mere wreck to the familiar eye.

  The pretended paladin was gazing at Miss Sylvia with all his eyes, as if so hungry for the sight of her he meant to make up for months of absence in one morning’s looking. Ay, although I saw that attitude for but an instant, it had this in it, and more — something which brought me to the immediate conclusion that I had arrived no better than just in time: a half-tremulous smile was on his lips, the smile of a man who sees coming to him, only a moment or an inch away, the greatest happiness of his life.

  My indignation became so unbearable that I could but reach out and prod the wretched Hoag again, which (as it came upon him unexpectedly) caused him to give forth a vehement cry of misery. Then I flung the door wide open, urged the wailing landlord before me by flagellations with the flat of my cutlass, and stood upon the threshold.

  I levelled a justly vengeful forefinger at William Fentriss, and, conquering a spell of sneezing, cried, loudly, “Behold a perfidious monster!”

  CHAPTER XV. MR. SUDGEBERRY AND THE CHERRY RIBBONS

  THE THREE OCCUPANTS of the room turned toward the door and stared at us in a kind of paralytic amazement for several moments, during which my renewed sneezing was the only sound to be heard.

  It was Miss Sylvia who first recovered. She rose to her feet with a slight scream; Mr. Gray dropped knife and fork clattering upon his plate; and William sprang up with a sharp exclamation. It was a sweet sop to my rage to see the change come over Mr. Fentriss when his gaze rose to the disclosure of his Nemesis! He gave a wretched look at us, which took in the broken posture of the dilapidated innkeeper, my tattered nightcap, smeary cheeks, wrathful brow, and the cutlass; and in the stern picture he read his fate.

  He staggered back against the wall with his hand across his eyes, as if a sudden vertigo had seized him. Then he made one gesture of intense appeal, seemingly begging to be spared the humiliation so properly in store for him; but as he saw the uselessness of it, his arms dropped to his sides, and he stood, with head fallen and shoulders bowed, like one already condemned and lost.

  I advanced into the room with a solemn tread.

  “What is this?” gasped Mr. Gray. “Another robbery?”

  “Behold a perfidious monster!” I repeated, still pointing at William Fentriss ac
ross the table. At the sound of my voice, Miss Gray shrieked aloud.

  “Heaven defend us!” exclaimed her father. “’Tis that Sudgeberry!”

  Miss Gray fell back in her chair and covered her face with her hands.

  “Ay, old man,” I answered, in a fateful tone, in spite of the before-mentioned infirmity of pronunciation which forced me to address him, against my will, as “old bad,” instead of “old man,” although I had then no desire to speak harshly to him, “it is I!”

  “It is!” he cried. “What in the name—”

  “I am come to defend you, white-haired and credulous old man,” I continued, raising my voice. “I am come to defend you from the embraces of a monster who has played upon your guileless nature and upon that of this innocent maiden, your daughter, even as he played upon his villanous musical instruments last summer. I am here to expose the wiles of a traitor who has caused you to imperil your soul by your profanity, and who, by unheard-of trickery, has sought to reopen the sacred portais of your household, entrance to whose honored precincts a persistent misconduct had so justly forfeited.”

  Instead of making any direct reply, the old gentleman stared at me with goggling eyes. He smote the table a blow with his fist so that the plates jumped and clattered.

  “Jeremiah and the prophets!” he cried. “It was born in him!”

  I hope this tribute may have been not altogether undeserved (a real talent for the proper spoken or written rendition of thought being always to some degree native) — at all events, I did not stop to acknowledge it at the time. Instead, I again levelled my finger at the completely confounded Fentriss. “Do you know what this arch-villain, this archhypocrite, perpetrated upon you during the watches of the night?”

  “Know what he did for us!” exclaimed the old gentleman, warmly; “I do know — for God’s sake take off your nightcap! — I do know what this gallant, this heroic youth has done for us!”

  “Nay,” quoth I.

  “He saved my life and Sylvia’s, too, and our purses, besides, at the risk of his skin!”

  “Nay,” quoth I.

  “He rescued us from the largest and bloodiest band of brigands that ever took the road. Know what he did for us!”

  “Nay,” quoth I.

  “Nay!” echoed Miss Sylvia, her eyes sparkling exceedingly. “Do you mean to deny his heroism? He scorns a reply and has little need to make one, seeing that my father and I were witnesses to what he did! So, ‘Nay’ to your heart’s content, Mr. Sudgeberry!” Here she laughed, then went on, somewhat breathlessly: “But there was a question he might have answered long ago; yet would not, until this very morning. Can you believe the wretch would be so proud? He was determined not to satisfy me upon it till I put the question to him myself! And that was because — so he swears — because, when he came to tell me without questioning, I refused him the chance and ran off to ride with you, instead. Now, see if you can help me to discover whether or no I believe this answer of his, Mr, Sudgeberry” — she laughed again— “though, of course, ’twas a very minor point, and I never cared about it or gave the affair any consideration. The impertinent declares that when they shouted for his toast, at that wicked supper in town, he would not pronounce a lady’s name where some were in wine, yet would not, so he farther swears” — still laughing, she blushed the deepest I ever saw— “would not drain his glass to any but one, and so took for his toast the name of that one’s favorite color. Mr. Sudgeberry,” she asked, her eyes sparkling even more than before, “would you believe his explanation if you were — that one?”

  “Nay,” quoth I.

  “Mayhap not,” she laughed, “yet I vow she finds it harder to forgive his pride, which was so hateful a thing that he waited to save her life before he would explain it!”

  “Nay,” quoth I.

  “What! What!” rejoined Mr. Gray. “Why, sir, there were squadrons of ’em, and singlehanded he engaged them in the noblest battle ever fought, and, what is more, he beat ’em off, like the lion that he is!”

  “Nay!” I cried. “Aged man, this only shows how completely you are his dupe and how dangerously you are deceived in him. Look at him! Behold the shame and terror marked upon him!”

  I pointed to Fentriss, who now turned helplessly away from every glance, his face struck white with pallor.

  “Thou hypocrite!” I exclaimed, addressing myself to him. “Thou hypocrite! Tremble, for thy baseness is discovered and thy folly proven. Know, to thy discomfiture, that the landlord hath confessed his own villany, to which thy wickedness persuaded him, and stands here ready to tell the tale to this trusting old man and his daughter. Tremble before their righteous wrath, and prostrate thyself before mine. Scorn is all we have for thee; contempt is all thy portion!” I concluded, with force and majesty, despite being forced to sneeze almost continuously. “Heaven save us!” said old Mr. Gray, impatiently. “What is all this folderol?”

  Miss Sylvia’s laughter had ceased abruptly: she turned to William, fixing her eyes upon him with a startled look, yet one which remained steadfastly upon him; nor did she take more than a sidelong cognizance of me, but from this moment forth remained unwaveringly observant of William, while her blushes faded and gave way to a pallor which increased till it matched his own. He was fully conscious of that earnest regard of hers, though he dared not meet it, but stood almost with his back to her, his head sinking lower and lower, and his fingers wandering aimlessly among his ruffles.

  There was a long silence; then she asked, in a low voice, tremulous but clear:

  “What is your accusation, Mr. Sudgeberry, if you please?”

  “For Heaven’s sake, what would you be at, man?” echoed her senile parent. “Out with it!”

  I began with a few brief remarks on the nature of deception, its growth and fruits in the human soul, offering some general allusions to the devastating effects of the art when employed upon and practised against innocent maidens and, especially, aged men, whereat old Mr. Gray, not having recovered from the shaking-up of his nerves, waxed very impolite, and William Fentriss, with a stifled groan, cried out, “For God’s sake, man, say it and have done!” Forthwith, I proceeded to go over the events of the night, exposing in its entirety the diabolical plot by which we had suffered so much, and I forced a corroboration of each detail from the landlord, who squeezed out his testimony with extreme reluctance, groaning and apologizing to Fentriss with every word.

  At last Mr. Gray broke out almost in a scream. “Not a real attack!” he vociferated. “No genuine battle! You are mad, Sudgeberry — mad as the worst in Bedlam! Why, sir, the sword-play was magnificent, and it sounded like a dozen blacksmiths hammering upon four anvils apiece; while as for the howling and firing—”

  “Tell him,” I bade the landlord, sternly, “tell him whether it was or was not a feigned attack, all planned to harry, and perhaps injure, himself and his daughter, in order that your accomplice yonder might gain their favor by the postures of a hero.”

  “No, no,” protested Hoag. “There was no chance any one should be injured or hurt; and as for Mr. Fentriss, why, it was a wild thing to do, I admit, but every one who is acquainted with him or his reputation knows very well that where the danger is real, he is there to confront it twice as soon as—”

  “Answer the question and no more. Was the attack feigned, and was it planned by you crestfallen youth?”

  “No more by him than by Mr. O’Donnell, now. Nay, I think Mr. O’Donnell did more—”

  “Was it a feigned attack?” I interrupted, wrathfully. “If it was real and genuine, then you were taken red-handed, and it is a case for the law — and you may know the end of that for you. Answer the question!”

  “But the sword-play—” Mr. Gray began.

  “Undeceive this trusting man!” I commanded.

  “Well, then,” said Hoag, with a piteous glance at William, “I — I — it was only a jest — we no more than made a noise, once we had the chaise stopped, and — and—”

&nbs
p; “Go on, sir!”

  “As for the sword-play, it was just two up and two down, and the shooting was only powder and no ball, up in the air, too, and-”

  “Enough!” I exclaimed. “And now, thou discovered reprobate” — I addressed myself in conclusion to Fentriss— “thy perfidy is known to all. Go! Hide thy head in some obscure place where repentance may avail thee. Go in shame and discomfiture, and presume not to return where the eyes of this old man, his daughter, or myself shall again behold thy deceptions, or our ears be assailed with thy lies. Go!”

  There was silence. Mr. Gray, dazed, with purple face, sank into a chair, breathing hard. The landlord was staring at the floor with an uneasy, hang-dog look. I stood with folded arms. Miss Gray, still looking steadily at my defeated rival, spoke again in the same low, clear, tremulous voice.

  “Is it true, Will?” she said.

  For once the fellow’s impudence had utterly deserted him. His chin was sunk in the lace at his throat; his pallor had given way to the fiery blush of shame; his hand trembled at his side. A discovered trickster has ten times the anguish of a detected criminal, and the hopelessness of this one’s attitude bespoke a pain which was the fit punishment for all he had done.

  After a long pause, he said, brokenly, “Yes.”

  “Why have you done it?” she asked.

  He turned toward her, and, without speaking or even raising his eyes, lifted his hand toward her in a slight, uncertain gesture, and then let it fall.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, as sure of his meaning as if he had spoken. “You dare to tell me you did this for me! You chanced killing the horse-boys; you ruined my father’s chaise and his hope of salvation — according to Mr. Sudgeberry. You risked frightening me to death — and nearly did it! Behold the condition to which you have brought your confederate, the landlord — and look at what is left of Mr. Sudgeberry! As for yourself, you took the chances of what has happened to you — detection and disgrace. Mr. Fentriss, do you dare to ask me,” she cried, raising her voice— “do you dare beg me to believe that you have committed these atrocities for me?”