CHAPTER XIII
FIRES OF YESTERDAY
I wasn't frightened, of course. There isn't anything terrifying infinding a little old leather-covered book on a prie-dieu by one'sbedside. But it was some minutes before I could induce myself totake up that yellowed old diary and examine it.
It begins the year of Freeman's return from college, "a Finish'dYoung Gentleman." He has refused to go abroad, considering that "ourYoung Gentlemen have enough Fripperies & Fopperies at Home withoutbringing worse Ones from Abroad." Brother Richard has been abroadmore than once, and Freeman does not "find him Improv'd save inOuter Elegancies."
The only person that "much Travelling hath not Spoil'd," he finds,is Mistress Emily Hope of Hope Plantation. "Shee was a Sweet Child,"he remembers; and now that the dew of their youth is upon them both,he finds her "of a Graceful and Delicate Shape, with the MostBeautiful Countenance in the World, a Sweet & Modest Demeanour, aSprightly Wit, an Accomplish'd Mind, & a Heart Fix'd upon Virtue."
The estates are near each other, the families intimate friends.Emily seems to like the boy. At any rate, she doesn't repel him. Andthen returns Richard--the gay, the handsome, the irresistibleRichard--who adds to the stalwart comeliness of a colonial gentlemanthe style, the grace, the cultivated manners of the Old World.
Almost fiercely Freeman notes the effect he produces, and how "Womendo catch an Admiration for him as't were a Pox."
Then he begins to set down, grimly, "The Sums my Father hath paidfor My Brother's Debts." A little later, he adds: "You Might Pourthe Atlantic Ocean full of Gold through his Pocketts & Overnightwould He empty Them." Richard, also, "Makes Choice of rake-hellCompanions," to his father's growing unease and indignation, hismother's distress. But "Good God! how is all Forgiven the Beautiful,the Gift'd!"
"Jezebel herself, that carries her Head so High, wears her Heartupon her Sleeve, een like a simple Milkmaid! 'Tis a Rare Spectacle.Sure there's a Fatality about this Man!"
* * * * *
"This Day dress'd I in my new Blue Cloathes, the which become me notIll & riding over to Hope Plant'n did ask for Emily's Hand. Alas,'Tis even as my Fears foretold! Shee loves me Not. 'Tis Richardalone hath her Heart.
"I do Fear Shee will sup Sorrow & drink Tears that setts herAffection upon the Unstable. Shee's too Mild, too Tender, hath not aFirm enough Hand to restrain him. He should een have ta'en MadameJezebel. Hath a Grand Passion for him. Will not lightly wear theWillow."
* * * * *
"This Day did Richard my Brother Wed Emily Hope," he records, aftera six-months' silence. "All say 'tis a most Noble Mating. My Motherin a Gown from London Town, & our Finest Gems, enow to make aDutchess envious of a Carolina Lady. My Father in high Spiritts.
"I danc'd with the Bridesmaids, but Salut'd not the Bride, the Whichnoted Madame Jezebel. Was Handsomer than ever I did See her, manythinking her Handsomer than the Bride. Had a great Following, thewhich the Hussy treat'd with Disdain.
"'Have you Kiss'd the Bride, Sir?' says shee, a-mocking of me afterher Wont. 'What a Fine Thing is a Love-Match, Master Freeman!'
"'Have you Wish'd the Bridegroom Joy?' says I. The woman anger'd me.
"'May Heaven send him all the Happiness he Deserves!' cries shee.'Sure, you'll echo that yourself, Master Freeman!' 'Tis a jibingWench. Would to God Richard had Wedded her!"
Then came dry notes of a visit to Kinsfolk in Virginia. Freemanseems to have been away from home for some time. When he returns, itis to chronicle in brief his brother's downward course. "They havesold Hope Plantation and Most of the Slaves. 'Tis an evil Chance."
"I shall be Twenty-one next month, though I feel a Thousand. Weshall have a Ball, after the Custom of our House. 'Tis to be a GrandAffair. I do think my Parents are somewhat Tender of Conscience tomeward. Though my Father Loves me not as he Loves my Brother, yet hebegins to Lean upon me more & More Heavily. My poor Mother is aLittle Envious of these Dry Virtues of mine, seeing her Darling islike to come to Shipwreck for Lack of them. Yet had he Fortune &Beauty & Emily!"
The next entry records the loss of the Hynds jewels. "'Tis a greatMystery!" One is sorely puzzled here. There is no getting at whatFreeman really thinks. Coldly, tritely, he sets down the bald, barefacts of the tragedies that wrecked the Hyndses.
With a strange lack of emotion he chronicles Richard's death, andadds: "At the Pleasure of God his Birth fell upon a Wednesday, atSun-rising, the which was by some Accounted Favourable. His Deathcame upon a Friday, at Noone, it Raining heavily."
Then comes his father's sudden death; and this curious item:
"Despite his Anguish & Affliction of Spiritt upon that Date, he didtell me Part, after the Custom of our House, the morning of myTwenty-first Birthday. Alas, when he was Stricken, upon the News ofRichard's Demise, he had no Chance to tell me All, nor was thereamong his Papers the Keye nor any Clue to It. When J. call'd us, hewas Beyond Speech & shee Hystericall with Affright. Thus the WholeSecret perishes, since Without the Keye & his Instructions 'twouldbe Impossible to Proceed."
* * * * *
"This evening came Capt. B., the worst of the Plundering Crew thatpluck'd Richard. 'Sirrah,' says he, impudently, 'thy Brother owe'dme three thousand pounds.' And he pulls me out a great fistfull ofBillets.
"'Sirrah,' says I, 'my Brother owes his Wife and Orphan'd Infantthree thousand times more than that. There be Debts of Nature whichprecede so-called Debts of Honour. Each billet in thy hand, thouswindling runnigate, calls for a bullet. Begone, lest _I_ owe theea horse-whipping.'
"'Anan!' says he, 'and one of you a Thief! _That_ for Honour, in themouth of a Hynds!' And snapp'd me his fingers under my Nose.
"We arrang'd a Meeting, though 'T was Foolish to Risk myself, withthe Roof tottering over my Mother's Head. My fellow Pompey, Mr. G.Dalzell, Mr. F. Mayne, & Dr. Baltassar Bobo with me. Two of hisscoundrelly Associates with him. His ball graz'd my arm above theElbow & Burnt the Linen of my Shirt. Mine Finish'd him. 'T was toogreat an Honour & more than he Deserv'd, to die by the Hand of aGentleman."
A little later: "This morn disappear'd my Cozen Jessamine.
"Nothing discover'd of her Whereabouts," he records from time totime.
"This morn saw I Emily & Richard's little Son. 'T is a Fine child,much Resembling my Brother. Emily turn'd her Face away, drawing downof her Widow's Weeds, & turn'd also the Babe's face aside. I feltEmbitter'd."
By this time he has taken over the whole Hynds estate as heir. Hementions his sisters' marriages, notes that they have received theirdowers, and so dismisses them.
His mother has been dead some time when he marries. One wonders whatthe bride was like, whom he commends for "Housekeeping Virtues, sothat the Servants instantly Obey, there is no Pilfering & Loitering,& the House moves like Clockwork."
He must have been like clockwork, himself. There seems less and lesshuman emotion in him. The birth of his only child gets this:
"This day was born Sophronisba Harriott Hynds, nam'd for herEstimable Mother. I am told 'Tis a fine healthy Child."
Casually thereafter he mentions "my Daughter." Twice her mother"Requested me to Chastise her for Unchristian Temper," whichchastisement he seems to have administered with thoroughness and arattan, in his office. On the second occasion, "I whip'd herSeverely & did at the same Time admonish her to Ask Pardon of God.Whereupon she Yell'd Aloud & did Seize the Calf of my Leg & Bite me,Causing me Great Physical Pain and Mental Anguish. How sharper thana Serpent's Tooth is an Ungrateful Child!"
(Oh, Ungrateful Child, I do not find it in my heart to blame youovermuch. Somehow I can't feel sorry that you bit him, Sophronisba!)
"This day died my Wife, an Estimable Helpmeet. I shall sadly Lackher Management of the House." In spite of which, he buys more land.Life seems to run smoothly enough. "The Lord hath bless'd me withAbundance. They that Spoke evil of me are Astonied & made Asham'd.The Lord hath done it."
Then comes this last entry:
/> "Two nights since died Scipio, son of old Shooba's last Wife, thewhich did send for me, Urgently entreating of my Presence. 'T wasever a Simple-minded Creature & found a faithful Servant, whereforeI did go to him.
"He was greatly in Dread of Dying, for that he was in mortal Terrourof old Shooba, fearing to Meet that Evil Being outside of the Flesh.Had been with Shooba when the wretched Creature passed away, aharden'd Heathen among Convert'd & Profess'd Christians. Said he wasa Snake Soul.
"The man was craz'd with Fear, dreading Shooba to be even then inthe Room. And indeed the Tale he whisper'd me was enough to Craze aChristian Man, & hath all but crack'd mine own Witts. If 't were notfor the Paper he slip't into my Palm, I should sett it down for aPhantazy, one of old Shooba's evil Spells. Most merciful God, howcame he by that Paper if the Tale be untrue?
"Greatly am I upsett by this Improbable & Frightful Thing. Sure thisrequires Prayer & Fasting, lest I be Delud'd."
Between the pages following this last entry was a piece of yellowedpaper, the paper that had been lost from the Author's coat pocket,in the locked closet of his room.
After a while I managed to work the slit of a drawer open, and tothis hiding-place I returned Freeman's diary, and with it thefaintly scented bit of paper that The Author mourned.
* * * * *
The failure of her matrimonial plans for me did not occasion MissAlicia Gaines overmuch grief. She seemed to have dismissed the wholematter from her mind. Restored to her old time gaiety, she sang likea thrush as she worked. She bubbled over with the sheer joy ofliving, until the very sight of her gladdened one. And she simplycouldn't make her feet behave! She danced with the broom onemorning, to the great amusement of our scholarly old Englishman.
"I'm supposed to be somewhat of an old stick myself: why not try me,instead of the broom?" he suggested slyly. Instantly she took him athis word, and danced him up and down the hall until he wasbreathless.
"This," panted the scholar, "is a fair sample of what the Irish doto the English."
"We do lead you a pretty dance, don't we, dear John Bull?" dimpledAlicia.
"You do, you engaging baggage!" he admitted. "But," he added, in atone of satisfaction, "we manage to keep step, my dear! Oh, yes, wemanage to keep step!" And he trotted off, chuckling.
"There are times," said The Author to me, darkly, "when theterrifying tirelessness of youth gives me a vertigo. Come away, MissSmith. Leave that kitten to chase her own shadow up the wall."
"Cross-patch, draw the latch, Sit by the fire and spin--yarns!"
chanted Alicia.
"Go away, you pink-and-white delusion!" said The Author, severely."You have made Scholarship and Wisdom put on cap and bells andprance like a morris-dancer. Isn't that mischief enough for oneday?"
Alicia has a round, snow-white chin, and when she tilts it the curveof her throat is distracting.
"On second thoughts," said The Author, critically, "I discover thatI do not wholly disapprove of you. Come outside. I wish to talkabout the venerable, and yet common design that tops every outsidewindow and door of this house.--What do you call that design, may Iask?"
"Why, everybody knows the Greek fret!" said Alicia, staring at it."It's as old as the hills."
"Exactly," agreed The Author. "The Greek fret is as old as the hill.And, with the single exception of the swastika, it is the designmost universally known to man. You may find it on a bit of ancientGreek pottery, or on a crumbling wall in Yucatan. Many people referto it as the Greek key."
Something began to glimmer in my mind--the vaguest, most tenuousshadow of an idea; a tantalizing, hide-and-seek phantom of athought.
"_Turne Hellens Keye Three Tennes and Three_,"
he quoted the doggerel verse.
We looked at him mutely.
"It is a tiresome truism," he went on, reflectively, "that what liesclose to the eye often escapes observation. For instance, thesewindows have been staring at me daily, each with its nice littleeyebrow of design, and I overlooked the design until my subconsciousmind suggested to me that here, in all probability, lies Hellen'sKeye."
I remembered the entry in Freeman's diary, concerning the loss of a"Keye," which hadn't been found among his father's papers, and of asecret which had died with the older man.
"I think I told you," said The Author, "that this house was built bymaster masons, shortly after the Grand Lodge was established inLondon. Thirty-three is rather a significant number. Yet, how toapply it," he paused, frowning.
"Without disturbing a Watcher in the Dark?" Alicia made light ofThe Authors itch for mystery. "Aren't you rather forgetting theWatcher in the Dark? Teller of tales, isn't it moon-stuff you'retrying to spin?"
"Who talks of a Watcher in the Dark?" asked a pleasant voice.Accompanied by Mr. Johnson, Mr. Nicholas Jelnik had strolled upunperceived.
"The Author," Alicia explained, mischievously, "is trying to makesense out of nonsense."
"That," said Mr. Jelnik, smiling, "is not an uncommon occupation."
"It's all about a bit of doggerel we found on a scrap of paper inthe attic," I told him. And I quoted it, adding: "There was a columnof dots under it. The Author laments that he lost it, before he hadchance to unravel it."
"I lost it, walking in my sleep," said The Author, disagreeably.
"And now he's trying to make us believe that the design in thebrick-work above our windows, just because it's the Greek fret, isHellen's Keye," Alicia said, jestingly.
"Well, you know, if a thing means _anything_, it's got to mean_something_," put in Mr. Johnson.
"Ain't it the truth, though?" hissed The Author, with fury.
Mr. Johnson was saved from stammering explanations by the irruptionof Beautiful Dog, who at sound of his voice had wriggled, andcringed, and fawned his way out of the shrubbery, cocking a wary eyeto see that none of the Black family was around. Beautiful Dogrolled his eyes at his god, swung his tail, waggled his ears, madeuncouth movements with his splay feet, and grinned from ear to ear.He was so utterly absurd that he claimed everybody's amusedattention.
"Why, old chap! You're rather glad to see your friends, aren't you?"the secretary said in his pleasant voice.
Beautiful Dog yelped with rapture, darted back into the shrubbery,and a moment later emerged and laid at his adored one's feet all histreasure, a chewed slipper. He tried to say that precious as thisgift undoubtedly was, he gave it willingly, joyfully. But scentingother white people too near, he backed off, and fled.
The Author's eyes followed him.
"I wonder if I'd have been equal to that, myself, if I'd been born anigger dog with an ingrained distrust of the white man?" hequestioned. "Gad! it comes near being the real thing, Johnson!"
The secretary looked at the slipper lying at his feet: "I wonderwhere he found that, now?"
I was wondering the same thing, and so was Alicia.
"Let's show Beautiful Dog the Chinese politeness of being decentenough not to accept his gift when he's decent enough to offer it,"she suggested.
"Yes, throw it into the shrubbery and let him find it. That mayraise white people somewhat in his estimation," I added, hastily.
Instantly Mr. Jelnik picked it up and tossed it among the bushes.His action seemed the merest polite compliance with my request, andhe barely glanced at the object he cast away. Yet it was reallyworth a second glance. Chewed, frayed, and torn, it had once been offinest red Morocco leather; and it was such a flat and heellessslipper as no native Hyndsville foot had ever worn. It was TheJinnee's slipper.