The House Behind the Cedars/XIV
XIV
A LOYAL FRIEND
Mention has been made of certain addressed
envelopes which John Warwick, on the occasion
of his visit to Patesville, had left with his
illiterate mother, by the use of which she might
communicate with her children from time to time.
On one occasion, Mis' Molly, having had a letter
written, took one of these envelopes from the chest
where she kept her most valued possessions, and
was about to inclose the letter when some one
knocked at the back door. She laid the envelope
and letter on a table in her bedroom, and went to
answer the knock. The wind, blowing across the
room through the open windows, picked up the
envelope and bore it into the street. Mis' Molly,
on her return, missed it, looked for it, and being
unable to find it, took another envelope. An hour
or two later another gust of wind lifted the bit
of paper from the ground and carried it into the
open door of the cooper shop. Frank picked it
up, and observing that it was clean and unused,
read the superscription. In his conversations with
Mis' Molly, which were often about Rena,--the
subject uppermost in both their minds,--he had
noted the mystery maintained by Mis' Molly about
her daughter's whereabouts, and had often wondered
where she might be. Frank was an intelligent
fellow, and could put this and that together.
The envelope was addressed to a place in South
Carolina. He was aware, from some casual remark
of Mis' Molly's, that Rena had gone to live
in South Carolina. Her son's name was John--
that he had changed his last name was more than
likely. Frank was not long in reaching the
conclusion that Rena was to be found near the town
named on the envelope, which he carefully preserved
for future reference.
For a whole year Frank had yearned for a smile
or a kind word from the only woman in the world.
Peter, his father, had rallied him somewhat upon
his moodiness after Rena's departure.
"Now 's de time, boy, fer you ter be lookin'
roun' fer some nice gal er yo' own color, w'at'll
'preciate you, an' won't be 'shamed er you. You're
wastin' time, boy, wastin' time, shootin' at a mark
outer yo' range."
But Frank said nothing in reply, and afterwards
the old man, who was not without discernment,
respected his son's mood and was silent in turn;
while Frank fed his memory with his imagination,
and by their joint aid kept hope alive.
Later an opportunity to see her presented itself.
Business in the cooper shop was dull. A barrel
factory had been opened in the town, and had
well-nigh paralyzed the cooper's trade. The best
mechanic could hardly compete with a machine.
One man could now easily do the work of Peter's
shop. An agent appeared in town seeking laborers
for one of the railroads which the newly organized
carpet-bag governments were promoting.
Upon inquiry Frank learned that their destination
was near the town of Clarence, South Carolina.
He promptly engaged himself for the service, and
was soon at work in the neighborhood of Warwick's
home. There he was employed steadily
until a certain holiday, upon which a grand
tournament was advertised to take place in a
neighboring town. Work was suspended, and foremen and
laborers attended the festivities.
Frank had surmised that Rena would be present
on such an occasion. He had more than guessed,
too, that she must be looked for among the white
people rather than among the black. Hence the
interest with which he had scanned the grand stand.
The result has already been recounted. He had
recognized her sweet face; he had seen her
enthroned among the proudest and best. He had
witnessed and gloried in her triumph. He had seen
her cheek flushed with pleasure, her eyes lit up with
smiles. He had followed her carriage, had made
the acquaintance of Mimy the nurse, and had
learned all about the family. When finally he left
the neighborhood to return to Patesville, he had
learned of Tryon's attentions, and had heard the
servants' gossip with reference to the marriage,
of which they knew the details long before the
principals had approached the main fact. Frank
went away without having received one smile or
heard one word from Rena; but he had seen her:
she was happy; he was content in the knowledge of
her happiness. She was doubtless secure in the
belief that her secret was unknown. Why should he,
by revealing his presence, sow the seeds of doubt
or distrust in the garden of her happiness? He
sacrificed the deepest longing of a faithful heart,
and went back to the cooper shop lest perchance she
might accidentally come upon him some day and
suffer the shock which he had sedulously spared her.
"I would n' want ter skeer her," he mused, "er
make her feel bad, an' dat's w'at I'd mos' lackly do
ef she seed me. She'll be better off wid me out'n
de road. She'll marry dat rich w'ite gent'eman,--
he won't never know de diffe'nce,--an' be a w'ite
lady, ez she would 'a' be'n, ef some ole witch had n'
changed her in her cradle. But maybe some time
she'll 'member de little nigger w'at use' ter nuss
her w'en she woz a chile, an' fished her out'n de ole
canal, an' would 'a' died fer her ef it would 'a' done
any good."
Very generously too, and with a fine delicacy,
he said nothing to Mis' Molly of his having seen
her daughter, lest she might be disquieted by the
knowledge that he shared the family secret,--no
great mystery now, this pitiful secret, but more far-
reaching in its consequences than any blood-curdling
crime. The taint of black blood was the unpardonable
sin, from the unmerited penalty of which there
was no escape except by concealment. If there be
a dainty reader of this tale who scorns a lie, and
who writes the story of his life upon his sleeve for
all the world to read, let him uncurl his scornful
lip and come down from the pedestal of superior
morality, to which assured position and wide
opportunity have lifted him, and put himself in the
place of Rena and her brother, upon whom God had
lavished his best gifts, and from whom society would
have withheld all that made these gifts valuable.
To undertake what they tried to do required great
courage. Had they possessed the sneaking, cringing,
treacherous character traditionally ascribed
to people of mixed blood--the character which the
blessed institutions of a free slave-holding republic
had been well adapted to foster among them; had
they been selfish enough to sacrifice to their
ambition the mother who gave them birth, society would
have been placated or humbugged, and the voyage
of their life might have been one of unbroken
smoothness.
When Rena came back unexpectedly at the
behest of her dream, Frank heard again the music
of her voice, felt the joy of her presence and the
benison of her smile. There was, however, a subtle
difference in her bearing. Her words were not less
kind, but they seemed to come from a remoter
source. She was kind, as the sun is warm or the
rain refreshing; she was especially kind to Frank,
because he had been good to her mother. If Frank
felt the difference in her attitude, he ascribed it to
the fact that she had been white, and had taken on
something of the white attitude toward the negro;
and Frank, with an equal unconsciousness, clothed
her with the attributes of the superior race. Only
her drop of black blood, he conceived, gave him the
right to feel toward her as he would never have
felt without it; and if Rena guessed her faithful
devotee's secret, the same reason saved his worship
from presumption. A smile and a kind word were
little enough to pay for a life's devotion.
On the third day of Rena's presence in Patesville,
Frank was driving up Front Street in the
early afternoon, when he nearly fell off his cart
in astonishment as he saw seated in Dr. Green's
buggy, which was standing in front of the Patesville
Hotel, the young gentleman who had won the
prize at the tournament, and who, as he had learned,
was to marry Rena. Frank was quite certain that
she did not know of Tryon's presence in the town.
Frank had been over to Mis' Molly's in the morning,
and had offered his services to the sick woman,
who had rapidly become convalescent upon her
daughter's return. Mis' Molly had spoken of some
camphor that she needed. Frank had volunteered
to get it. Rena had thanked him, and had spoken
of going to the drugstore during the afternoon. It
was her intention to leave Patesville on the following day.
"Ef dat man sees her in dis town," said Frank
to himself, "dere'll be trouble. She don't know
HE'S here, an' I'll bet he don't know SHE'S here."
Then Frank was assailed by a very strong
temptation. If, as he surmised, the joint presence of the
two lovers in Patesville was a mere coincidence, a
meeting between them would probably result in the
discovery of Rena's secret.
"If she's found out," argued the tempter,
"she'll come back to her mother, and you can see
her every day."
But Frank's love was not of the selfish kind.
He put temptation aside, and applied the whip to
the back of his mule with a vigor that astonished the
animal and moved him to unwonted activity. In
an unusually short space of time he drew up before
Mis' Molly's back gate, sprang from the cart, and
ran up to Mis' Molly on the porch.
"Is Miss Rena here?" he demanded breathlessly.
"No, Frank; she went up town 'bout an hour ago
to see the doctor an' git me some camphor gum."
Frank uttered a groan, rushed from the house,
sprang into the cart, and goaded the terrified mule
into a gallop that carried him back to the market
house in half the time it had taken him to reach
Mis' Molly's.
"I wonder what in the worl 's the matter with
Frank," mused Mis' Molly, in vague alarm. "Ef
he hadn't be'n in such a hurry, I'd 'a' axed him
to read Judge Straight's letter. But Rena'll be
home soon."
When Frank reached the doctor's office, he saw
Tryon seated in the doctor's buggy, which was
standing by the window of the drugstore. Frank
ran upstairs and asked the doctor's man if Miss
Walden had been there.
"Yas," replied Dave, "she wuz here a little
w'ile ago, an' said she wuz gwine downstairs ter de
drugsto'. I would n' be s'prise' ef you'd fin' her
dere now."