The House Behind the Cedars/XV
XV
MINE OWN PEOPLE
The drive by which Dr. Green took Tryon to
his own house led up Front Street about a mile, to
the most aristocratic portion of the town, situated
on the hill known as Haymount, or, more briefly,
"The Hill." The Hill had lost some of its former
glory, however, for the blight of a four years' war
was everywhere. After reaching the top of this
wooded eminence, the road skirted for some little
distance the brow of the hill. Below them lay the
picturesque old town, a mass of vivid green, dotted
here and there with gray roofs that rose above the
tree-tops. Two long ribbons of streets stretched
away from the Hill to the faint red line that marked
the high bluff beyond the river at the farther side
of the town. The market-house tower and the
slender spires of half a dozen churches were sharply
outlined against the green background. The face
of the clock was visible, but the hours could have
been read only by eyes of phenomenal sharpness.
Around them stretched ruined walls, dismantled
towers, and crumbling earthworks--footprints of
the god of war, one of whose temples had crowned
this height. For many years before the rebellion a
Federal arsenal had been located at Patesville.
Seized by the state troops upon the secession of
North Carolina, it had been held by the Confederates
until the approach of Sherman's victorious
army, whereupon it was evacuated and partially
destroyed. The work of destruction begun by the
retreating garrison was completed by the conquerors,
and now only ruined walls and broken cannon
remained of what had once been the chief ornament
and pride of Patesville.
The front of Dr. Green's spacious brick house,
which occupied an ideally picturesque site, was
overgrown by a network of clinging vines,
contrasting most agreeably with the mellow red
background. A low brick wall, also overrun with
creepers, separated the premises from the street
and shut in a well-kept flower garden, in which
Tryon, who knew something of plants, noticed
many rare and beautiful specimens.
Mrs. Green greeted Tryon cordially. He did
not have the doctor's memory with which to fill out
the lady's cheeks or restore the lustre of her hair
or the sparkle of her eyes, and thereby justify her
husband's claim to be a judge of beauty; but her
kind-hearted hospitality was obvious, and might
have made even a plain woman seem handsome.
She and her two fair daughters, to whom Tryon
was duly presented, looked with much favor upon
their handsome young kinsman; for among the
people of Patesville, perhaps by virtue of the
prevalence of Scottish blood, the ties of blood were
cherished as things of value, and never forgotten
except in case of the unworthy--an exception, by
the way, which one need hardly go so far to seek.
The Patesville people were not exceptional in
the weaknesses and meannesses which are common
to all mankind, but for some of the finer social
qualities they were conspicuously above the average.
Kindness, hospitality, loyalty, a chivalrous
deference to women,--all these things might be
found in large measure by those who saw Patesville
with the eyes of its best citizens, and accepted
their standards of politics, religion, manners, and
morals.
The doctor, after the introductions, excused
himself for a moment. Mrs. Green soon left
Tryon with the young ladies and went to look
after luncheon. Her first errand, however, was
to find the doctor.
"Is he well off, Ed?" she asked her husband.
"Lots of land, and plenty of money, if he is
ever able to collect it. He has inherited two
estates."
"He's a good-looking fellow," she mused. "Is
he married?"
"There you go again," replied her husband,
shaking his forefinger at her in mock reproach.
"To a woman with marriageable daughters all
roads lead to matrimony, the centre of a woman's
universe. All men must be sized up by their
matrimonial availability. No, he isn't married."
"That's nice," she rejoined reflectively. "I
think we ought to ask him to stay with us while he
is in town, don't you?"
"He's not married," rejoined the doctor slyly,
"but the next best thing--he's engaged."
"Come to think of it," said the lady, "I'm
afraid we wouldn't have the room to spare, and
the girls would hardly have time to entertain him.
But we'll have him up several times. I like his
looks. I wish you had sent me word he was coming;
I'd have had a better luncheon."
"Make him a salad," rejoined the doctor, "and
get out a bottle of the best claret. Thank God,
the Yankees didn't get into my wine cellar! The
young man must be treated with genuine Southern
hospitality,--even if he were a Mormon and married
ten times over."
"Indeed, he would not, Ed,--the idea! I'm
ashamed of you. Hurry back to the parlor and
talk to him. The girls may want to primp a little
before luncheon; we don't have a young man
every day."
"Beauty unadorned," replied the doctor, "is
adorned the most. My profession qualifies me to
speak upon the subject. They are the two handsomest
young women in Patesville, and the daughters
of the most beautiful"--
"Don't you dare to say the word," interrupted
Mrs. Green, with placid good nature. "I shall
never grow old while I am living with a big boy
like you. But I must go and make the salad."
At dinner the conversation ran on the family
connections and their varying fortunes in the late
war. Some had died upon the battlefield, and
slept in unknown graves; some had been financially
ruined by their faith in the "lost cause,"
having invested their all in the securities of the
Confederate Government. Few had anything left
but land, and land without slaves to work it was a
drug in the market.
"I was offered a thousand acres, the other day,
at twenty-five cents an acre," remarked the doctor.
"The owner is so land-poor that he can't
pay the taxes. They have taken our negroes and
our liberties. It may be better for our grandchildren
that the negroes are free, but it's confoundedly
hard on us to take them without paying
for them. They may exalt our slaves over us
temporarily, but they have not broken our spirit,
and cannot take away our superiority of blood and
breeding. In time we shall regain control. The
negro is an inferior creature; God has marked
him with the badge of servitude, and has adjusted
his intellect to a servile condition. We will not
long submit to his domination. I give you a
toast, sir: The Anglo-Saxon race: may it remain
forever, as now, the head and front of creation,
never yielding its rights, and ready always to die,
if need be, in defense of its liberties!"
"With all my heart, sir," replied Tryon, who
felt in this company a thrill of that pleasure which
accompanies conscious superiority,--"with all my
heart, sir, if the ladies will permit me."
"We will join you," they replied. The toast
was drunk with great enthusiasm.
"And now, my dear George," exclaimed the
doctor, "to change one good subject for another,
tell us who is the favored lady?"
"A Miss Rowena Warwick, sir," replied Tryon,
vividly conscious of four pairs of eyes fixed upon
him, but, apart from the momentary embarrassment,
welcoming the subject as the one he would
most like to speak upon.
"A good, strong old English name," observed
the doctor.
"The heroine of `Ivanhoe'!" exclaimed Miss
Harriet.
"Warwick the Kingmaker!" said Miss Mary.
"Is she tall and fair, and dignified and stately?"
"She is tall, dark rather than fair, and full of
tender grace and sweet humility."
"She should have been named Rebecca instead
of Rowena," rejoined Miss Mary, who was well up
in her Scott.
"Tell us something about her people," asked
Mrs. Green,--to which inquiry the young ladies
looked assent.
In this meeting of the elect of his own class and
kin Warwick felt a certain strong illumination
upon the value of birth and blood. Finding Rena
among people of the best social standing, the
subsequent intimation that she was a girl of no family
had seemed a small matter to one so much in love.
Nevertheless, in his present company he felt a
decided satisfaction in being able to present for his
future wife a clean bill of social health.
"Her brother is the most prominent lawyer of
Clarence. They live in a fine old family mansion,
and are among the best people of the town."
"Quite right, my boy," assented the doctor.
"None but the best are good enough for the best.
You must bring her to Patesville some day. But
bless my life!" he exclaimed, looking at his
watch, "I must be going. Will you stay with the
ladies awhile, or go back down town with me?"
"I think I had better go with you, sir. I shall
have to see Judge Straight."
"Very well. But you must come back to supper,
and we'll have a few friends in to meet you.
You must see some of the best people."
The doctor's buggy was waiting at the gate.
As they were passing the hotel on their drive
down town, the clerk came out to the curbstone
and called to the doctor.
"There's a man here, doctor, who's been taken
suddenly ill. Can you come in a minute?"
"I suppose I'll have to. Will you wait for
me here, George, or will you drive down to the
office? I can walk the rest of the way."
"I think I'll wait here, doctor," answered
Tryon. "I'll step up to my room a moment. I'll
be back by the time you're ready."
It was while they were standing before the hotel,
before alighting from the buggy, that Frank
Fowler, passing on his cart, saw Tryon and set out
as fast as he could to warn Mis' Molly and her
daughter of his presence in the town.
Tryon went up to his room, returned after a
while, and resumed his seat in the buggy, where
he waited fifteen minutes longer before the doctor
was ready. When they drew up in front of the
office, the doctor's man Dave was standing in the
doorway, looking up the street with an anxious
expression, as though struggling hard to keep
something upon his mind.
"Anything wanted, Dave?" asked the doctor.
"Dat young 'oman's be'n heah ag'in, suh, an'
wants ter see you bad. She's in de drugstore dere
now, suh. Bless Gawd!" he added to himself
fervently, "I 'membered dat. Dis yer recommemb'ance
er mine is gwine ter git me inter trouble ef
I don' look out, an' dat's a fac', sho'."
The doctor sprang from the buggy with an
agility remarkable in a man of sixty. "Just keep
your seat, George," he said to Tryon, "until I
have spoken to the young woman, and then we'll
go across to Straight's. Or, if you'll drive along
a little farther, you can see the girl through the
window. She's worth the trouble, if you like a
pretty face."
Tryon liked one pretty face; moreover, tinted
beauty had never appealed to him. More to show
a proper regard for what interested the doctor than
from any curiosity of his own, he drove forward a
few feet, until the side of the buggy was opposite
the drugstore window, and then looked in.
Between the colored glass bottles in the window
he could see a young woman, a tall and slender girl,
like a lily on its stem. She stood talking with the
doctor, who held his hat in his hand with as much
deference as though she were the proudest dame
in town. Her face was partly turned away from
the window, but as Tryon's eye fell upon her, he
gave a great start. Surely, no two women could be
so much alike. The height, the graceful droop of the
shoulders, the swan-like poise of the head, the well-
turned little ear,--surely, no two women could
have them all identical! But, pshaw! the notion
was absurd, it was merely the reflex influence of
his morning's dream.
She moved slightly; it was Rena's movement.
Surely he knew the gown, and the style of hair-
dressing! She rested her hand lightly on the
back of a chair. The ring that glittered on her
finger could be none other than his own.
The doctor bowed. The girl nodded in response,
and, turning, left the store. Tryon leaned forward
from the buggy-seat and kept his eye fixed on the
figure that moved across the floor of the drugstore.
As she came out, she turned her face casually
toward the buggy, and there could no longer be
any doubt as to her identity.
When Rena's eyes fell upon the young man in
the buggy, she saw a face as pale as death, with
starting eyes, in which love, which once had
reigned there, had now given place to astonishment
and horror. She stood a moment as if turned to
stone. One appealing glance she gave,--a look
that might have softened adamant. When she
saw that it brought no answering sign of love or
sorrow or regret, the color faded from her cheek,
the light from her eye, and she fell fainting to the
ground.