CHAPTER IV
ORLEAN
"Oh, Mama," cried Orlean E. McCarthy, coming hastily from the hallwayinto the room where her mother sat sewing, and handing her a note, "Mr.Baptiste is in the city and wishes to call at the earliest possibleconvenience."
"Indeed," replied her mother, affecting a serious expression, "this israther sudden. Have you sent him word when he could?"
"Yes, mama, I wrote him a note and returned it by the boy that broughtthis one, that he could call at two o'clock." Her mother's gaze soughtthe clock automatically.
"And it is now past one," she replied. "You will have to get ready toreceive him," she advised ceremoniously.
"All right, mama," said Orlean cheerfully, and suddenly bending forward,kissed her mother impulsively upon the cheek, and a moment later hurriedupstairs.
"What is this I hear about somebody coming to call," inquired another,coming into the room at that moment. Mrs. McCarthy looked up onrecognizing the voice of her younger daughter, Ethel, who now stoodbefore her. She gave a perceptible start as she did so, and swallowedbefore she replied. In the meantime the other stood, regarding herrather severely, as was her nature.
She was very tall, was Ethel, and because she was so very thin sheappeared really taller than she was. She did not resemble her mother,who was a dumpy light brown skinned woman. She was part Indian, andpossessed a heavy head of hair which, when let down, fell over hershoulders.
Ethel, on the other hand, was somewhat darker, had a thin face, withhair that was thick, but rather short and bushy. Her eyes were small anddark, out of which she never seemed to look straight at one. Theyappeared always to be lurking and without any expression, unless it wasan expression of dislike. Forsooth, she was a known disagreeable person,ostentatious, pompous, and hard to get along with.
She was a bride of a few weeks and was then resting after a shorthoneymoon spent in Racine, Wisconsin, sixty miles north of Chicago.
"Why, Mr. Baptiste is coming. Coming to call on your sister. He has beencorresponding with her for some time, you understand," her motherreturned in her mild, trained manner.
"Oh!" echoed Ethel, apparently at a loss whether to be pleased ordispleased. She was as often one way as the other, so her mother wasapprehensive of something more.
"I think you have met him, have you not?" her mother inquired.
"Yes, I've met him," admitted Ethel. "Last winter while teaching."
"And what do you think of him, my dear?"
"Well, he has some ways I don't like."
"What ways, please?" She had started to say "naturally" but thoughtbetter of it.
"Oh, he does not possess the dignity I like in a man. Struck me as muchtoo commonplace."
"Oh," her mother grunted. She was acquainted with Ethel's disposition,which was extremely vain. She loved pomp and ceremony, and admired veryfew people.
"What's he calling to see Orlean for?"
Her mother looked up in some surprise. She regarded her daughter keenly."Why, my dear! Why do you ask such a question! Why do young men call tosee any young ladies?" Both turned at this moment to see Orlean comingdown the stairway, and attention was fastened upon her following.
"All 'dolled' up to meet your farmer," commented Ethel with a touch ofenvy in her voice. In truth she was envious. Her husband was just anordinary fellow--that is, he was largely what she was making of him. Itwas said that she had found no other man who was willing to tolerate herevil temper and that, perhaps, was why she had married him. While withhim, he had been anxious to marry her to satisfy his social ambition.Although an honest, hardworking fellow, he had come of very commonstock. From the backwoods of Tennessee where his father had been acrude, untrained preacher, he had come to Chicago and had met andmarried her after a courtship of six years.
"You look very nice, my dear," said her mother, addressing Orlean.Between the two children there was a great difference. Although older,Orlean was by far the more timid by disposition. An obedient girl inevery way, she had never been known to cross her parents, and had thehappy faculty of making herself generally liked, while Ethel inviteddisfavor.
She was not so tall as Ethel, and while not as short as her mother, shewas heavier than either. She was the image of her father who was dark,although not black. After her mother she had taken her hair, which,while not as fine, was nevertheless heavy, black and attractive. Hereyes were dark like her mother's, which were coal black. They weresmall and tender. Her expression was very frank; but she had inheritedher mother's timidness and was subservient unto her father, and in ameasure unto her younger sister, Ethel.
She was a year older than the man who was coming to see her, and hadnever had a beau.
"Do I look all right, mama?" she asked, turning so that she might beseen all around.
"Yes, my dear," the other replied. She always used the term "my dear."She had been trained to say that when she was a young wife, and hadnever gotten out of the habit.
"Now sit down, my daughter," she said judiciously, "and before the youngman comes to call on you, tell me all about him."
"Yes, and leave out nothing," interposed Ethel.
"She is talking to your mother, Ethel. You will do her a favor by goingto your room until it is over," advised their mother.
"Oh, well, if I'm not wanted, then I'll go," spit out Ethel wickedly,whereupon she turned and hastened up the stairs to her room and slammedthe door behind her.
"Ethel has such a temper," her mother sighed deploringly. "She is sodifferent from you, dear. You are like your mother, while she--well, shehas her father's ways."
"Papa is not as mean as Ethel," defended Orlean, ever obedient to hermother, yet always upholding her father, it mattered not what the issue.
Her mother sighed again, shifted in her chair, and said no more on thatsubject. She knew the father better than Orlean, and would not argue.She had been trained not to....
"Now where did you meet Mr. Baptiste, my dear?" she began.
"Where I taught last winter, mother," she replied obediently.
"And how did you come to meet him, daughter?"
"Why, he was calling on a girl friend of mine, and I happened alongwhile he was there, and the girl introduced us."
"M-m. Was that the first time you had seen him?"
"No, I had met him on the street when he was on the way down there."
"I see. Did he speak to you on the street?"
"Oh, no, mother. He did not know me."
"But he might have spoken anyhow...."
"But he was a gentleman, and he never spoke." She paused briefly, andthen, her voice a trifle lower, said: "Of course he looked at me. But--"
"Well, any man would do that. We must grant that men are men. How wereyou impressed with him when you met him later at this friend's house?"
"Well, I don't know," returned Orlean hesitatingly. "He seemed to be agreat talker, was very commonplace, dressed nicely but not showily. Heknew quite a few people in Chicago that we know, and was born near thetown in which I met him. He was just returning from New York, and--well,I rather admired him. He is far above the average colored man, I cansay."
"M-m," her mother mused thoughtfully, and with an air of satisfaction.She couldn't think of anything more to say just then, and upon lookingat the clock which showed ten minutes of two, she said: "Well, you hadbetter go in the parlor, and after he has called, when convenient, callme and permit me to meet him. You will be careful, my dear, andunderstand that we have raised you to be a lady, and exercise your usualdignity."
"Yes, mama."
On the hour the street door bell was pulled with a jerk, and arising,Orlean went toward the door expectantly.
"Oh, how do you do," she cried, a moment later, her face lighted with aradiant smile as she extended her hand and allowed it to rest in that ofJean Baptiste's.
"Miss McCarthy," he cried, with her hand in one of his, and his hat inthe other, he entered the door.
"May I take your hat?" asked Orlean, and taking it,
placed it on thehall tree. In the meantime, his habitually observing eyes were upon her,and when she turned she found him regarding her closely.
"Come right into the parlor, please, Mr. Baptiste, and be seated." Shehesitated between the davenport and the chairs; while he, without ado,chose the davenport and became seated, and the look he turned upon hercommanded more than words that she, too, be seated. With a littlehesitation, she finally sank on the davenport at a conventionaldistance, beside him.
"I was not certain, judging by your last letter, just when you would gethere," she began timidly. He regarded her out of his searching eyesattentively. He was weighing her in the balance. He saw in those closeglances what kind of a girl she was, apparently, for, after a respite,he relaxed audibly, but kept his eyes on her nevertheless.
"I was not certain myself," he said. "I am so rushed these days that Ido not know always just what comes next. But I am glad that I am here atlast--and to see you looking so well."
They exchanged the usual words about the weather, and other conventionalnotes, and then she called her mother.
"Mama, I wish you to meet Mr. Baptiste. Mr. Baptiste, this is mymother."
"Mr. Baptiste," said her mother, giving him her hand, "I am glad to knowyou."
"The same here, madam," he returned cheerfully. "Guess your health isgood!"
"Very good, I'm glad to say."
They talked for a time, and all were cheered to find themselves soagreeable.
"I think I can slightly recall your people, Mr. Baptiste," her motherremarked, thoughtfully. "My husband, Dr. McCarthy," she said, giving himan honorary term, "pastored the church in the town near where you wereborn, many years ago."
"I do say," he echoed non-commitally.
"Do you recall it?" she asked.
He appeared to be thinking.... He hardly knew what to say, then, aftersome deliberation he brightened and said: "I think I do. I was veryyoung then, but I think I do recall your husband...."
"Your name--the name of your family has always remained in my mind,"said she then, reflectively.
"Indeed. It is a rather peculiar name."
"It is so, I should say," she cried. "If it is quite fair, may I askwhere or how your father came by such a name?"
"Oh, it is very simple. My father, of course, was born a slave likemost--almost all Negroes previous to the war--and took the name from hismaster who I suppose was of French descent."
"Oh, that explains it. Of course that is natural. M-m; but it's abeautiful name, I must say."
He smiled.
"It is an illustrious name, also," she commented further.
"But the man who carries it in this instance, is much to the contrarynotwithstanding," he laughed depreciatingly.
"It is a very beautiful day without, my dear," she said, addressing herdaughter, "and perhaps Mr. Baptiste might like to walk out and see someof the town."
"I most assuredly would," he cried, glad of something for a change. Hewas restless, and estimated that if he felt the air, with her at hisside, it might help him.
Orlean arose, went upstairs, and returned shortly wearing a large hatthat set off her features. He rather liked her under it, and when theywalked down the street together, he was conscious of an air ofsatisfaction.
"Where would you like to go?" she asked as they neared the intersection.
"For a car ride on the elevated," he replied promptly.
"Then we will go right down this street. This is Thirty-third, andthere's an elevated station a few blocks from here."
They walked along leisurely, she listening attentively, while he talkedfreely of the West, his life there and what he was doing. When theyreached the L. he assisted her upstairs to the station, and in so doingtouched her arm for the first time. The contact gave him a slightsensation but he felt more easy when they had entered the car and takena seat together. A moment later they were gazing out over the great citybelow as the cars sped through the air.
It was growing dark when they returned, and she invited him to dinner.He accepted and thereupon met Ethel and her husband.
Ethel was all pomp and ceremony, while her husband, with his cue fromher, acted in the same manner, and they rather bored Jean Baptiste withtheir airs. He was glad when the meal was over. He followed Orlean backto the parlor, where they took a seat on the davenport again, and drewcloser to her this time. Soon she said: "Do you play?"
"Lord, no!" he exclaimed; "but I shall be glad to listen to you."
"I can't play much," she said modestly; "but I will play what little Iknow." Thereupon she became seated and played and sang, he thought, verywell. After she had played a few pieces, she turned and looked up athim, and he caught the full expression of her eyes. He could see thatthey were tender eyes; eyes behind which there was not apparently theforce of will that he desired; but Orlean McCarthy was a fine girl. Shewas fine because she was not wicked; because she was intelligent and hadbeen carefully reared; she was fine because she had never cultivated thesociety of undesirable or common people; but she was not a fine girlbecause she had a great mind, or great ability; or because she had doneanything illustrious. And this Jean Baptiste, a judge of human naturecould readily see; but he would marry her, he would be good to her; andshe would, he hoped, never have cause to regret having married him. Andthereupon he bent close to her, took her chin in his hand and kissed herupon the lips. She turned away when he had done this. In truth she wasnot expecting such from him and knew not just how to accept it. Her lipsburned with a new sensation; she had a peculiar feeling about the heart.She arose and went to the piano and her fingers wandered idly over thekeys as she endeavored to still her beating heart.
Shortly she felt his hand upon her shoulder and she turned to hear himsay:
"Won't you come back into the parlor? I--would like to speak to you?"
She consented without hesitation, and arising followed him timidly backto the seat they had occupied a few minutes before. Again seated he drewclosely but did not deign to place his arm about her, looked toward therear of the house where the others were, and, seeing that the doors wereclosed between them, sighed lightly and turned to her.
"Now, Miss McCarthy," he began, evenly. "I am going to say something toyou that I have never said to a woman before." He paused while shewaited with abated breath.
"I haven't known you long; but that is not the point. What I should sayis, that in view of our brief correspondence, it will perhaps appearrather bold of me to say what I wish to. Yet, there comes a time in lifewhen circumstances alter cases.
"Now, to be frank, I have always regarded matrimony as a businessproposition, and while sentiment is a very great deal in a way, businessconsiderations should be the first expedient." She was all attention.She was peculiarly thrilled. It was wonderful to listen to him, shethought, and not for anything would she interrupt him. But _what_ did hemean; what was he _going_ to say.
"Well, I, Miss McCarthy, need a wife. I want a wife; but my life has notbeen lived where social intercourse with girls of my race has beenafforded, as you might understand." She nodded understandingly,sympathetically. Her woman's nature was to sympathize, and what she didwas only natural with all women.
"It has not been my privilege to know any girl of my race intimately; Iam not, as I sit here beside you able to conscientiously, or truly, goto one and say: 'I love you, dear, and want you to be my wife,' in theconventional sense. Therefore, can I be forgiven if I say to you; if Iask you, Miss McCarthy," and so saying, he turned to her, his faceserious, "to become my wife?"
He had paused, and her soul was afire. Was _this_ a proposal or was it aplay? For a time she was afraid to say anything. She wouldn't say no,and she was afraid to say yes, until--well, until she was positive thathe had actually asked her to marry him. As it was, she hesitated. But itwas so wonderful she thought. It was so beautiful to be so near such awonderful young man, such a strong young man. The young men she hadknown had not been like this one. And, really, she wanted to marry. Shewas twenty-six,
and since her sister had married, she had found lifelonely. To be a man's wife and go and live alone with him must bewonderful. She was a reader, and he had sent her books. In all books andlife and everything there was love. And love always had its climax in aplace where one lived alone with a man. Oh, glorious! She was _ready tolisten to anything he had to say_.
"Now, I do not profess love to you, Miss McCarthy, in trying to makethis clear. I could not, and be truthful. And I have always tried to betruthful. Indeed, I could not feel very happy, I am sure, unless I wastruthful. To pretend that which I am not is hypocrisy, and I despise ahypocrite. I am an owner of land in the West, and I believe you willagree with me, that it behooves any Negro to acquire all he can. We aresuch a race of paupers! We own so little, and have such little prestige.Thankfully, I am at present, on the high road to success, and, becauseof that, I want a wife, a dear, kind girl as a mate, the most naturalthing in the world." She nodded unaware. What he was saying had not beensaid to her in that way; but the way he said it was so much to thepoint. She had not been trained to observe that which was practical;indeed, her father was regarded as a most impractical man; but she likedthis man beside her now, and was anxious for him to go on. He did.
"I own 520 acres of very valuable land, and have consummated a deal for480 more acres. This land is divided into tracts of 160 acres each, andmust be homesteaded before the same is patented.
"Now, my grandmother, and also a sister are already in the West, andwill homestead on two places. The other, I have arranged for you. Theproceeding is simple. It will be necessary only for you to journey outWest, file on this land as per my directions, after which we can bemarried any time after, and we can then live together on your claim. Doyou understand?"
"I think so," she said a bit falteringly.
"Now, my dear, do not feel that I am a charter barterer; we can simplyacquire a valuable tract of land by this process and be as we wouldunder any other circumstances. Once you were out there all would be veryplain to you, but at this distance, it is perhaps foreign to you, that Iunderstand."
She looked up into his face trustingly. Right then she wanted him tokiss her. It was all so irregular; but he was a man and she a maid, andshe had never had a love.... He seemed to understand, and passionatelyhe caught her to him, and kissed her many, many times.
It was all over then, as far as she was concerned. She had not said yesor no with words, but her lips had been her consent, and she knew shewould love him. It was the happiest hour in the simple life she hadlived, and she was ready to become his forever.