XV
A Fateful Solution.
Hosmer passed the day with a great pain at his heart. His hasty andviolent passion of the morning had added another weight for his spiritto drag about, and which he could not cast off. No feeling ofresentment remained with him; only wonder at his wife's misshapenknowledge and keen self-rebuke of his own momentary forgetfulness.Even knowing Fanny as he did, he could not rid himself of the hauntingdread of having wounded her nature cruelly. He felt much as a man whoin a moment of anger inflicts an irreparable hurt upon some small,weak, irresponsible creature, and must bear regret for his madness.The only reparation that lay within his power--true, one that seemedinadequate--was an open and manly apology and confession of wrong. Hewould feel better when it was made. He would perhaps find relief indiscovering that the wound he had inflicted was not so deep--sodangerous as he feared.
With such end in view he came home early in the afternoon. His wifewas not there. The house was deserted. Even the servants haddisappeared. It took but a moment for him to search the various roomsand find them one after the other, unoccupied. He went out on theporch and looked around. The raw air chilled him. The wind was blowingviolently, bringing dashes of rain along with it from massed cloudsthat hung leaden between sky and earth. Could she have gone over tothe house? It was unlikely, for he knew her to have avoided Mrs.Lafirme of late, with a persistence that had puzzled him to seek itscause, which had only fully revealed itself in the morning Yet, whereelse could she be? An undefined terror was laying hold of him. Hissensitive nature, in exaggerating its own heartlessness, was blindlyoverestimating the delicacy of hers. To what may he not have drivenher? What hitherto untouched chord may he not have started intopainful quivering? Was it for him to gauge the endurance of a woman'sspirit? Fanny was not now the wife whom he hated; his own act of themorning had changed her into the human being, the weak creature whomhe had wronged.
In quitting the house she must have gone unprepared for the inclementweather, for there hung her heavy wrap in its accustomed place, withher umbrella beside it. He seized both and buttoning his own greatcoat about him, hurried away and over to Mrs. Lafirme's. He found thatlady in the sitting-room.
"Isn't Fanny here?" he asked abruptly, with no word of greeting.
"No," she answered looking up at him, and seeing the evidentuneasiness in his face. "Isn't she at home? Is anything wrong?"
"Oh, everything is wrong," he returned desperately, "But the immediatewrong is that she has disappeared--I must find her."
Therese arose at once and called to Betsy who was occupied on thefront veranda.
"Yas, um," the girl answered to her mistress' enquiry. "I seed ma'amHosma goin' to'ads de riva good hour 'go. She mus' crost w'en Nathantuck dat load ova. I yain't seed 'er comin' back yit."
Hosmer left the house hastily, hardly reassured by Betsy'sinformation. Therese's glance--speculating and uneasy--followed hishurrying figure till it disappeared from sight.
The crossing was an affair of extreme difficulty, and which Nathan wasreluctant to undertake until he should have gathered a "load" thatwould justify him in making it. In his estimation, Hosmer did not meetsuch requirement, even taken in company with the solitary individualwho had been sitting on his horse with Egyptian patience for longunheeded moments, the rain beating down upon his back, while he waitedthe ferryman's pleasure. But Nathan's determination was not proofagainst the substantial inducements which Hosmer held out to him; andsoon they were launched, all hands assisting in the toilsome passage.
The water, in rising to an unaccustomed height, had taken on an addedand tremendous swiftness. The red turbid stream was eddying andbulging and hurrying with terrific swiftness between its shallowbanks, striking with an immensity of power against the projection ofland on which stood Marie Louise's cabin, and rebounding in greatcircling waves that spread and lost themselves in the seethingturmoil. The cable used in crossing the unwieldly flat had long beensubmerged and the posts which held it wrenched from their fastenings.The three men, each with his long heavy oar in hand began to pull upstream, using a force that brought the swelling veins like irontracings upon their foreheads where the sweat had gathered as if theday were midsummer. They made their toilsome way by slow inches, thatfinally landed them breathless and exhausted on the opposite side.
What could have been the inducement to call Fanny out on such a dayand such a venture? The answer came only too readily from Hosmer'sreproaching conscience. And now, where to seek her? There was nothingto guide him; to indicate the course she might have taken. The rainwas falling heavily and in gusts and through it he looked about at thesmall cabins standing dreary in their dismantled fields. MarieLouise's was the nearest at hand and towards it he directed his steps.
The big good-natured negress had seen his approach from the window,for she opened the door to him before he had time to knock, andentering he saw Fanny seated before the fire holding a pair of verywet smoking feet to dry. His first sensation was one of relief atfinding her safe and housed. His next, one of uncertainty as to thekind and degree of resentment which he felt confident must now showitself. But this last was soon dispelled, for turning, she greeted himwith a laugh. He would have rather a blow. That laugh said so manythings--too many things. True, it removed the dread which had beenhaunting him all day, but it shattered what seemed to have been nowhis last illusion regarding this woman. That unsounded chord which hefeared he had touched was after all but one in harmony with the restof her common nature. He saw too at a glance that her dominant passionhad been leading and now controlled her. And by one of those rapidtrains of thought in which odd and detached fancies, facts,impressions and observations form themselves into an orderly sequenceleading to a final conviction--all was made plain to him that beforehad puzzled him. She need not have told him her reason for crossingthe river, he knew it. He dismissed at once the attitude with which hehad thought to approach her. Here was no forgiveness to be asked ofdulled senses. No bending in expiation of faults committed. He washere as master.
"Fanny, what does this mean?" he asked in cold anger; with no heatnow, no passion.
"Yaas, me tell madame, she goin' fur ketch cole si she don' mine out.Dat not fur play dat kine wedder, no. Teck chair, M'sieur; dryyou'se'f leet beet. Me mek you one cup coffee."
Hosmer declined the good Marie Louise's kind proffer of coffee, but heseated himself and waited for Fanny to speak.
"You know if you want a thing done in this place, you've got to do ityourself. I've heard you say it myself, time and time again aboutthose people at the mill," she said.
"Could it have been so urgent as to call you out on a day like this,and with such a perilous crossing? Couldn't you have found some oneelse to come for you?"
"Who? I'd like to know. Just tell me who? It's nothing to you if we'rewithout servants, but I'm not going to stand it. I ain't going to letSamp_son_ act like that without knowing what he means," said Fannysharply.
"Dat Samp_son_, he one leet dev'," proffered Marie Louise, withlaudable design of shifting blame upon the easy shoulders of Sampson,in event of the domestic jar which she anticipated. "No use try donuttin' 'id Sampson, M'sieur."
"I had to know something, one way or the other," Fanny said in a tonewhich carried apology, rather by courtesy than by what she considereddue.
Hosmer walked to the window where he looked out upon the dreary,desolate scene, little calculated to cheer him. The river was justbelow; and from this window he could gaze down upon the rushingcurrent as it swept around the bend further up and came strikingagainst this projection with a force all its own. The rain was fallingstill; steadily, blindingly, with wild clatter against the shingledroof so close above their heads. It coursed in little swift rivuletsdown the furrows of the almost perpendicular banks. It mingled in ademon dance with the dull, red water. There was something inviting toHosmer in the scene. He wanted to be outside there making a part ofit. He wanted to feel that rain and wind beating upon him. Within, itwas stifling, maddening; wi
th his wife's presence there, charging theroom with an atmosphere of hate that was possessing him and beginningto course through his veins as it had never done before.
"Do you want to go home?" he asked bluntly, turning half around.
"You must be crazy," she replied, with a slow, upward glance out thewindow, then down at her feet that were still poised on the low stoolthat Marie Louise had placed for her.
"You'd better come." He could not have said what moved him, unless itwere recklessness and defiance.
"I guess you're dreaming, or something, David. You go on home if youwant. Nobody asked you to come after me any way. I'm able to take careof myself, I guess. Ain't you going to take the umbrella?" she added,seeing him start for the door empty handed.
"Oh, it doesn't matter about the rain," he answered without a lookback as he went out and slammed the door after him.
"M'sieur look lak he not please," said Marie Louise, with plain regretat the turn of affairs. "You see he no lak you go out in dat kinewedder, me know dat."
"Oh, bother," was Fanny's careless reply. "This suits me well enough;I don't care how long it lasts."
She was in Marie Louise's big rocker, balancing comfortably back andforth with a swing that had become automatic. She felt "good," as shewould have termed it herself; her visit to Sampson's hut having notbeen without results tending to that condition. The warmth of the roomwas very agreeable in contrast to the bleakness of out-doors. She feltfree and moved to exercise a looseness of tongue with the amiable oldnegress which was not common with her. The occurrences of the morningwere gradually withdrawing themselves into a distant perspective thatleft her in the attitude of a spectator rather than that of an actor.And she laughed and talked with Marie Louise, and rocked, and rockedherself on into drowsiness.
Hosmer had no intention of returning home without his wife. He onlywanted to be out under the sky; he wanted to breathe, to use hismuscles again. He would go and help cross the flat if need be; anoccupation that promised him relief in physical effort. He joinedNathan, whom he found standing under a big live-oak, disputing with anold colored woman who wanted to cross to get back to her family beforesupper time.
"You didn' have no call to come ova in de fus' place," he was sayingto her, "you womens is alluz runnin' back'ards and for'ards likeskeard rabbit in de co'n fiel'."
"I don' stan' no sich talk is dat f'om you. Ef you kiant tin' to yo'business o' totin' folks w'en dey wants, you betta quit. You donecheat Mose out o' de job, anyways; we all knows dat."
"Mine out, woman, you gwine git hu't. Jis' le'me see Mose han'le dat'ar flat onct: Jis' le'me. He lan' you down to de Mouf 'fo' you knowsit."
"Let me tell you, Nathan," said Hosmer, looking at his watch, "say youwait a quarter of an hour and if no one else comes, we'll cross AuntAgnes anyway."
"Dat 'nudda t'ing ef you wants to go back, suh."
Aunt Agnes was grumbling now at Hosmer's proposal that promised tokeep her another quarter of an hour from her expectant family, when abig lumbering creaking wagon drove up, with its load of baled cottonall covered with tarpaulins.
"Dah!" exclaimed Nathan at sight of the wagon, "ef I'd 'a listened toyo' jawin'--what?"
"Ef you'd listen to me, you'd 'tin' to yo' business betta 'an youdoes," replied Aunt Agnes, raising a very battered umbrella over hergrotesquely apparelled figure, as she stepped from under the shelterof the tree to take her place in the flat.
But she still met with obstacles, for the wagon must needs go first.When it had rolled heavily into place with much loud and needlessswearing on the part of the driver who, being a white man, consideredHosmer's presence no hindrance, they let go the chain, and once againpulled out. The crossing was even more difficult now, owing to theextra weight of the wagon.
"I guess you earn your money, Nathan," said Hosmer bending andquivering with the efforts he put forth.
"Yas, suh, I does; an' dis job's wuf mo' 'an I gits fu' it."
"All de same you done lef' off wurking crap sence you start it,"mumbled Aunt Agnes.
"You gwine git hu't, woman; I done tole you dat; don' wan' listen,"returned Nathan with halting breath.
"Who gwine hu't me?"
Whether from tardy gallantry or from pre-occupation with his arduouswork, Nathan offered no reply to this challenge, and his silence leftAunt Agnes in possession of the field.
They were in full mid-stream. Hosmer and the teamster were in the foreend of the boat; Nathan in the rear, and Aunt Agnes standing in thecenter between the wagon and the protecting railing, against which sheleaned her clasped hands that still upheld the semblance of umbrella.
The ill-mated horses stood motionless, letting fall their dejectedheads with apathetic droop. The rain was dripping from theirglistening coats, and making a great patter as it fell upon thetarpaulins covering the cotton bales.
Suddenly came an exclamation: "Gret God!" from Aunt Agnes, so genuinein its amazement and dismay, that the three men with one accord lookedquickly up at her, then at the point on which her terrified gaze wasfixed. Almost on the instant of the woman's cry, was heard a shrill,piercing, feminine scream.
What they saw was the section of land on which stood Marie Louise'scabin, undermined--broken away from the main body and graduallygliding into the water. It must have sunk with a first abrupt wrench,for the brick chimney was shaken from its foundation, the smokeissuing in dense clouds from its shattered sides, the house topplingand the roof caving. For a moment Hosmer lost his senses. He could butlook, as if at some awful apparition that must soon pass from sightand leave him again in possession of his reason. The leaning house washalf submerged when Fanny appeared at the door, like a figure in adream; seeming a natural part of the awfulness of it. He only gazedon. The two negroes uttered loud lamentations.
"Pull with the current!" cried the teamster, first to regain hispresence of mind. It had needed but this, to awaken Hosmer to thesituation.
"Leave off," he cried at Nathan, who was wringing his hands. "Takehold that oar or I'll throw you overboard." The trembling ashen negroobeyed on the instant.
"Hold fast--for God's sake--hold fast!" he shouted to Fanny, who wasclinging with swaying figure to the door post. Of Marie Louise therewas no sign.
The caved bank now remained fixed; but Hosmer knew that at any instantit was liable to disappear before his riveted gaze.
How heavy the flat was! And the horses had caught the contagion ofterror and were plunging madly.
"Whip those horses and their load into the river," called Hosmer,"we've got to lighten at any price."
"Them horses an' cotton's worth money," interposed the alarmedteamster.
"Force them into the river, I say; I'll pay you twice their value."
"You 'low to pay fur the cotton, too?"
"Into the river with them or I'll brain you!" he cried, maddened atthe weight and delay that were holding them back.
The frightened animals seemed to ask nothing more than to plunge intothe troubled water; dragging their load with them.
They were speeding rapidly towards the scene of catastrophe; but toHosmer they crawled--the moments were hours. "Hold on! hold fast!" hecalled again and again to his wife. But even as he cried out, thedetached section of earth swayed, lurched to one side--plunged to theother, and the whole mass was submerged--leaving the water above it inwild agitation.
A cry of horror went up from the spectators--all but Hosmer. He castaside his oar--threw off his coat and hat; worked an instant withoutavail at his wet clinging boots, and with a leap was in the water,swimming towards the spot where the cabin had gone down. The currentbore him on without much effort of his own. The flat was close up withhim; but he could think of it no longer as a means of rescue. Detachedpieces of timber from the ruined house were beginning to rise to thesurface. Then something floating softly on the water: a woman's dress,but too far for him to reach it.
When Fanny appeared again, Hosmer was close beside her. His left armwas quickly thrown about her. She was insensible,
and he rememberedthat it was best so, for had she been in possession of her reason, shemight have struggled and impeded his movements. He held herfast--close to him and turned to regain the shore. Another horrifiedshriek went up from the occupants of the flat-boat not far away, andHosmer knew no more--for a great plunging beam struck him full uponthe forehead.
When consciousness came back to him, he found that he lay extended inthe flat, which was fastened to the shore. The confused sound of manyvoices mingled with a ringing din that filled his ears. A warm streamwas trickling down over his cheek. Another body lay beside him. Nowthey were lifting him. Therese's face was somewhere--very near, he sawit dimly and that it was white--and he fell again into insensibility.