The House Behind the Cedars/XXI
XXI
A GILDED OPPORTUNITY
Although the whole fabric of Rena's new life
toppled and fell with her lover's defection, her
sympathies, broadened by culture and still more by
her recent emotional experience, did not shrink, as
would have been the case with a more selfish soul,
to the mere limits of her personal sorrow, great as
this seemed at the moment. She had learned to
love, and when the love of one man failed her, she
turned to humanity, as a stream obstructed in its
course overflows the adjacent country. Her early
training had not directed her thoughts to the darker
people with whose fate her own was bound up so
closely, but rather away from them. She had been
taught to despise them because they were not so
white as she was, and had been slaves while she was
free. Her life in her brother's home, by removing
her from immediate contact with them, had given
her a different point of view,--one which emphasized
their shortcomings, and thereby made vastly
clearer to her the gulf that separated them from
the new world in which she lived; so that when
misfortune threw her back upon them, the reaction
brought her nearer than before. Where once she
had seemed able to escape from them, they were
now, it appeared, her inalienable race. Thus doubly
equipped, she was able to view them at once with
the mental eye of an outsider and the sympathy
of a sister: she could see their faults, and judge
them charitably; she knew and appreciated their
good qualities. With her quickened intelligence
she could perceive how great was their need and
how small their opportunity; and with this illumination
came the desire to contribute to their help.
She had not the breadth or culture to see in all its
ramifications the great problem which still puzzles
statesmen and philosophers; but she was conscious
of the wish, and of the power, in a small way, to do
something for the advancement of those who had
just set their feet upon the ladder of progress.
This new-born desire to be of service to her
rediscovered people was not long without an
opportunity for expression. Yet the Fates willed that
her future should be but another link in a connected
chain: she was to be as powerless to put
aside her recent past as she had been to escape
from the influence of her earlier life. There are
sordid souls that eat and drink and breed and die,
and imagine they have lived. But Rena's life
since her great awakening had been that of the
emotions, and her temperament made of it a
continuous life. Her successive states of
consciousness were not detachable, but united to form a
single if not an entirely harmonious whole. To
her sensitive spirit to-day was born of yesterday,
to-morrow would be but the offspring of to day.
One day, along toward noon, her mother
received a visit from Mary B. Pettifoot, a second
cousin, who lived on Back Street, only a short
distance from the house behind the cedars. Rena
had gone out, so that the visitor found Mis' Molly
alone.
"I heared you say, Cousin Molly," said Mary
B. (no one ever knew what the B. in Mary's name
stood for,--it was a mere ornamental flourish),
"that Rena was talkin' 'bout teachin' school. I've
got a good chance fer her, ef she keers ter take
it. My cousin Jeff Wain 'rived in town this
mo'nin', f'm 'way down in Sampson County, ter
git a teacher fer the nigger school in his deestric'.
I s'pose he mought 'a' got one f'm 'roun' Newbern,
er Goldsboro, er some er them places eas', but he
'lowed he'd like to visit some er his kin an' ole
frien's, an' so kill two birds with one stone."
"I seed a strange mulatter man, with a bay hoss
an' a new buggy, drivin' by here this mo'nin' early,
from down to'ds the river," rejoined Mis' Molly.
"I wonder if that wuz him?"
"Did he have on a linen duster?" asked Mary B.
"Yas, an' 'peared to be a very well sot up man,"
replied Mis' Molly, " 'bout thirty-five years old, I
should reckon."
"That wuz him," assented Mary B. "He's got
a fine hoss an' buggy, an' a gol' watch an' chain,
an' a big plantation, an' lots er hosses an' mules
an' cows an' hawgs. He raise' fifty bales er cotton
las' year, an' he's be'n ter the legislatur'."
" My gracious!" exclaimed Mis' Molly, struck
with awe at this catalogue of the stranger's possessions--
he was evidently worth more than a great
many "rich" white people,--all white people in
North Carolina in those days were either "rich" or
"poor," the distinction being one of caste rather
than of wealth. "Is he married?" she inquired
with interest?
"No,--single. You mought 'low it was quare
that he should n' be married at his age; but he
was crossed in love oncet,"--Mary B. heaved a
self-conscious sigh,--"an' has stayed single ever
sence. That wuz ten years ago, but as some
husban's is long-lived, an' there ain' no mo' chance
fer 'im now than there wuz then, I reckon some
nice gal mought stan' a good show er ketchin' 'im,
ef she'd play her kyards right."
To Mis' Molly this was news of considerable
importance. She had not thought a great deal of
Rena's plan to teach; she considered it lowering
for Rena, after having been white, to go among
the negroes any more than was unavoidable. This
opportunity, however, meant more than mere
employment for her daughter. She had felt Rena's
disappointment keenly, from the practical point of
view, and, blaming herself for it, held herself all
the more bound to retrieve the misfortune in any
possible way. If she had not been sick, Rena
would not have dreamed the fateful dream that
had brought her to Patesville; for the connection
between the vision and the reality was even closer in
Mis' Molly's eyes than in Rena's. If the mother
had not sent the letter announcing her illness and
confirming the dream, Rena would not have ruined
her promising future by coming to Patesville. But
the harm had been done, and she was responsible,
ignorantly of course, but none the less truly, and
it only remained for her to make amends, as far as
possible. Her highest ambition, since Rena had
grown up, had been to see her married and
comfortably settled in life. She had no hope that
Tryon would come back. Rena had declared that
she would make no further effort to get away from
her people; and, furthermore, that she would never
marry. To this latter statement Mis' Molly secretly
attached but little importance. That a woman
should go single from the cradle to the grave did
not accord with her experience in life of the customs
of North Carolina. She respected a grief she could
not entirely fathom, yet did not for a moment
believe that Rena would remain unmarried.
"You'd better fetch him roun' to see me, Ma'y
B.," she said, "an' let's see what he looks like.
I'm pertic'lar 'bout my gal. She says she ain't
goin' to marry nobody; but of co'se we know that's
all foolishness."
"I'll fetch him roun' this evenin' 'bout three
o'clock," said the visitor, rising. "I mus' hurry
back now an' keep him comp'ny. Tell Rena ter
put on her bes' bib an' tucker; for Mr. Wain is
pertic'lar too, an' I've already be'n braggin' 'bout
her looks."
When Mary B., at the appointed hour, knocked
at Mis' Molly's front door,--the visit being one of
ceremony, she had taken her cousin round to the
Front Street entrance and through the flower
garden,--Mis' Molly was prepared to receive them.
After a decent interval, long enough to suggest
that she had not been watching their approach and
was not over-eager about the visit, she answered
the knock and admitted them into the parlor. Mr.
Wain was formally introduced, and seated himself
on the ancient haircloth sofa, under the framed
fashion-plate, while Mary B. sat by the open door
and fanned herself with a palm-leaf fan.
Mis' Molly's impression of Wain was favorable.
His complexion was of a light brown--not quite
so fair as Mis' Molly would have preferred; but
any deficiency in this regard, or in the matter of
the stranger's features, which, while not unpleasing,
leaned toward the broad mulatto type, was
more than compensated in her eyes by very
straight black hair, and, as soon appeared, a great
facility of complimentary speech. On his introduction
Mr. Wain bowed low, assumed an air of great
admiration, and expressed his extreme delight in
making the acquaintance of so distinguished-looking a lady.
"You're flatt'rin' me, Mr. Wain," returned Mis'
Molly, with a gratified smile. "But you want to
meet my daughter befo' you commence th'owin'
bokays. Excuse my leavin' you--I'll go an' fetch
her."
She returned in a moment, followed by Rena.
"Mr. Wain, 'low me to int'oduce you to my daughter
Rena. Rena, this is Ma'y B.'s cousin on her
pappy's side, who's come up from Sampson to git
a school-teacher."
Rena bowed gracefully. Wain stared a moment
in genuine astonishment, and then bent himself
nearly double, keeping his eyes fixed meanwhile
upon Rena's face. He had expected to see a pretty
yellow girl, but had been prepared for no such
radiant vision of beauty as this which now confronted him.
"Does--does you mean ter say, Mis' Walden,
dat--dat dis young lady is yo' own daughter?"
he stammered, rallying his forces for action.
"Why not, Mr. Wain?" asked Mis' Molly,
bridling with mock resentment. "Do you mean
ter 'low that she wuz changed in her cradle, er is
she too good-lookin' to be my daughter?"
"My deah Mis' Walden! it 'ud be wastin' wo'ds
fer me ter say dat dey ain' no young lady too good-
lookin' ter be yo' daughter; but you're lookin'
so young yo'sef dat I'd ruther take her fer yo'
sister."
"Yas," rejoined Mis' Molly, with animation,
"they ain't many years between us. I wuz ruther
young myself when she wuz bo'n."
"An', mo'over," Wain went on, "it takes me
a minute er so ter git my min' use' ter thinkin' er
Mis' Rena as a cullud young lady. I mought 'a'
seed her a hund'ed times, an' I'd 'a' never dreamt
but w'at she wuz a w'ite young lady, f'm one er de
bes' families."
"Yas, Mr. Wain," replied Mis' Molly
complacently, "all three er my child'en wuz white, an'
one of 'em has be'n on the other side fer many
long years. Rena has be'n to school, an' has
traveled, an' has had chances--better chances than
anybody roun' here knows."
"She's jes' de lady I'm lookin' fer, ter teach ou'
school," rejoined Wain, with emphasis. "Wid
her schoolin' an' my riccommen', she kin git a fus'-
class ce'tifikit an' draw fo'ty dollars a month; an'
a lady er her color kin keep a lot er little niggers
straighter 'n a darker lady could. We jus' got ter
have her ter teach ou' school--ef we kin git her."
Rena's interest in the prospect of employment
at her chosen work was so great that she paid little
attention to Wain's compliments. Mis' Molly led
Mary B. away to the kitchen on some pretext, and
left Rena to entertain the gentleman. She questioned
him eagerly about the school, and he gave
the most glowing accounts of the elegant school-
house, the bright pupils, and the congenial society
of the neighborhood. He spoke almost entirely in
superlatives, and, after making due allowance for
what Rena perceived to be a temperamental tendency
to exaggeration, she concluded that she would
find in the school a worthy field of usefulness, and
in this polite and good-natured though somewhat
wordy man a coadjutor upon whom she could rely
in her first efforts; for she was not over-confident
of her powers, which seemed to grow less as the
way opened for their exercise.
"Do you think I'm competent to teach the
school?" she asked of the visitor, after stating
some of her qualifications.
"Oh, dere 's no doubt about it, Miss Rena,"
replied Wain, who had listened with an air of great
wisdom, though secretly aware that he was too
ignorant of letters to form a judgment; "you kin
teach de school all right, an' could ef you didn't
know half ez much. You won't have no trouble
managin' de child'en, nuther. Ef any of 'em gits
onruly, jes' call on me fer he'p, an' I'll make 'em
walk Spanish. I'm chuhman er de school committee,
an' I'll lam de hide off'n any scholar dat
don' behave. You kin trus' me fer dat, sho' ez
I'm a-settin' here."
"Then," said Rena, "I'll undertake it, and do
my best. I'm sure you'll not be too exacting."
"Yo' bes', Miss Rena,'ll be de bes' dey is.
Don' you worry ner fret. Dem niggers won't
have no other teacher after dey've once laid eyes
on you: I'll guarantee dat. Dere won't be no
trouble, not a bit."
"Well, Cousin Molly," said Mary B. to Mis'
Molly in the kitchen, "how does the plan strike
you?"
"Ef Rena's satisfied, I am," replied Mis' Molly.
"But you'd better say nothin' about ketchin' a
beau, or any such foolishness, er else she'd be just
as likely not to go nigh Sampson County."
"Befo' Cousin Jeff goes back," confided Mary
B., "I'd like ter give 'im a party, but my house
is too small. I wuz wonderin'," she added tentatively,
"ef I could n' borry yo' house."
"Shorely, Ma'y B. I'm int'rested in Mr.
Wain on Rena's account, an' it's as little as I kin
do to let you use my house an' help you git things
ready."
The date of the party was set for Thursday
night, as Wain was to leave Patesville on Friday
morning, taking with him the new teacher. The
party would serve the double purpose of a compliment
to the guest and a farewell to Rena, and it
might prove the precursor, the mother secretly
hoped, of other festivities to follow at some later
date.