Throckmorton: A Novel

by Molly Elliot Seawell

  CHAPTER IV.

  For a week after the party Jacqueline lived in a kind of dream. Shecould do nothing but talk of the party. The whole current of her lifehad been disturbed. Since this one taste of excitement there was nosatisfying her. The daily routine was going down to a solemn breakfast,and then getting through the forenoon as best she might, with herflowers, and her pets among the ducks and chickens, and romping with thelittle Beverley--for this unfortunate Jacqueline had no regularemployments--and then the still more solemn three o'clock dinner, afterwhich she practiced fitfully on the wheezy piano in the darkdrawing-room; then a country walk with Judith, if the day was fine,coming back in time to watch the creeping on of the twilight before thesitting-room fire. This was the happiest time of the day to Jacqueline.She would sit flat on the rug, clasping her knees, and gazing into thefire until her mother would say, with a smile:

  "What do you see in the fire, Jacky?"

  "Oh, endless things--a beautiful young man, and a new piano, and adiamond comb like Mrs. Sherrard's, and--Oh, I can't tell you!"

  "Miss Jacky she see evils, I know she do," solemnly announced SimonPeter. "When folks sits fo' de fire studyin' 'bout nuttin' 'tall, deevils an' de sperrits dat's 'broad come sneakin' up ahine an' show 'emthings in de fire."

  General Temple, a few days after the party, fell a victim to a seductivepudding prepared by Delilah, and was immediately invalided with thegout. Dr. Wortley was sent for, and at once demanded to know whatdevilment Delilah had been up to in the way of puddings and such, andsoon found out the true state of the case. A wordy war ensued betweenDr. Wortley and Delilah, and the doctor renewed the threat he had beenmaking at intervals for twenty-five years.

  "Temple," he screeched, "you may take your choice between that oldignoramus and me--between ignorance and science!"

  "Ef ole marse was ter steal six leetle sweet 'taters an' put 'em in hepocket," began Delilah, undauntedly.

  "Why don't you advise him to steal a wheelbarrowful instead of apocketful?" retorted the doctor.

  "Kase he doan 'quire but six, an' he got ter _steal_ 'em, fur ter makede conjurin' wuk. Den ev'y day he th'ow 'way a 'tater, an' when he th'owde 'tater 'way he th'ow de gout 'way, too. De hy'ars from a black cat'stail is mighty good, too--"

  "Temple, how do you put up with this sort of thing being uttered in yourhearing?" snapped the doctor.

  General Temple looked rather sheepish. He had never actually triedstealing six potatoes, or testing the virtue in hairs from a black cat'stail, as a relief from gout, but he had not been above a course of tansytea, and decoctions of jimson-weed, and other of Delilah's remedies thatscientifically were on a par with the black cat's tail. But, beingracked with pain, he took refuge in pessimism and profanity.

  "Excuse me, Wortley, but all medicine is a damned humbug!--Imean--er--an empirical science. What is written is written. The GreatFirst Cause, that decrees from the hour of our birth every act of ourlives, has decreed that I should suffer great pain, anguish, anddiscomfort from this hereditary disease."

  "Marse, ef you wuz ter repent an' be saved--"

  "Hold your infernal tongue!"

  "An' jine de Foot-washers--"

  "Damn the Foot-washers!" howled the general.

  "Plague on it!" snarled Dr. Wortley, whirling round with his back to thefire. "If you've got as far as predestination, you're in for a sixweeks' spell. I can cure the gout, but I'll be shot if I can do anythingwhen it's complicated with religion and black cats' tails and aconstant diet like a Christmas dinner!"

  In the midst of the discussion, the doctor's shrill voice rising highover Delilah's, who, with arms akimbo and a defiant air, only awaitedDr. Wortley's departure to get in her innings with the patient, Mrs.Temple, serene and sweet, came in and quelled the insurrection. Delilahat once subsided, Dr. Wortley began to laugh, and the general directedthat Mrs. Temple's chair be put next to his.

  "As your presence, my love, makes me forget my most unhappy foot," hesaid.

  Mrs. Temple's adherence to either Delilah or Dr. Wortley would havecaused victory to perch upon that side; but Mrs. Temple, like thegeneral, had more faith in Delilah than she was willing to own up to.So, between Delilah's feeding him high all the time, while the doctoronly saw him once or twice a week, General Temple bade fair to remain aninvalid for a considerable time. The attack of gout, though, just atthat time, had its consolatory aspects. General Temple really wished tocall at Millenbeck, but Mrs. Temple showed no sign of yielding. For thepresent, however, there could be no notion of his stirring out of doors.As long as the gout lasted there was a good excuse. But General Templeworried over it.

  "My love," he said one night, while Mrs. Temple and Jacqueline andJudith sat around the table in his room, where they had assembled tomake his evening less dull, "I am troubled in my mind regarding GeorgeThrockmorton. It unquestionably seems heathenish for us to have one sointimately connected with our early married life--that truly blissfulperiod--within a stone's throw of us, and then to deny him the sacredrites of hospitality."

  Jacqueline gave a half glance at Judith which was full of meaning, andJudith could not for her life keep a slight blush from rising in hercheek.

  Mrs. Temple said nothing, but looked hard at the fire, sighingprofoundly. She had made herself some sort of a vague revengefulpromise, that no man wearing a blue uniform should ever darken herdoors. She had yielded first one thing, then another, of that scrupulousand daily mourning and remembrance she had promised herself, forBeverley--but this--

  The pause was long. Mrs. Temple, looking at General Temple, was touchedby something in his expression--a longing, a patient, but genuinedesire. Occasionally she indulged him, as she sometimes relaxed a littlethe discipline over Jacqueline in her childish days. She put her handover her eyes and waited a moment as if she were praying. Then she saidin broken voice, "Do what seems best to you, my husband."

  General Temple took her hand.

  "But, my own, I do not wish to coerce you. No matter what I think is ourduty in the case, if it does not satisfy you, it shall not be done. Iwould rather anything befell Throckmorton, than you, my beloved Jane,should be grieved or troubled."

  Mrs. Temple received this sort of thing as she always did, with a shypleasure like a girl.

  "I have said it, my dear, and you know I do not easily recede. Like you,this thing has been upon me ever since Throckmorton's return. I havefelt it every day harder to maintain my attitude. Now, for your sake, Iwill abandon it. Have Throckmorton when you like. I will invite him overto tea on Sunday evening."

  General Temple fairly beamed. When Mrs. Temple gave in to him, which wasnot oftener than once a year, she gave in thoroughly.

  "Thank you, my wife. It certainly seems unnatural that Millenbeck andBarn Elms should be estranged. It shall be so no longer, please God. Andthat George Throckmorton is a high-toned gentleman"--General Templepaused a little before saying this, hunting for a term magniloquentenough for the occasion--"no one, I think, will deny."

  This was early in the week. The very next afternoon, Jacqueline findingtime more than usually hard to kill, went up into the garret and beganrummaging over the remains of Mrs. Temple's wedding finery of thirtyyears before. She dived down into a capacious chest, and brought forthtwo or three faded silk dresses, the bridal bonnet and veil, yellowedfrom age; and, among other antiques, a huge muff almost as big asJacqueline herself. This suddenly put the notion of a walk into herhead. Judith was engaged in reading Napier's History of the PeninsularWars to General Temple, and Jacqueline had only herself for company. So,carrying her huge muff in which she plunged her arms up to her elbows,she started off. It was a raw autumn afternoon. The leaves had not yetall fallen, although the ground was dank with them, and the peculiarstillness of a lonely and lowland country was upon the monotonouslandscape. The entire absence of sounds is a characteristic of that sortof country, and it makes a gloomy day more gloomy. Jacqueline, trippingalong very fast, did not find it cheerful. She would go as far as thegate of the la
ne that led into the main road, and then turn back. Thislane was also the entrance to Millenbeck, and Jacqueline had some sortof a faint expectation that she might run across Jack Throckmorton. Shelooked longingly toward Millenbeck, visible at intervals through thestraggling fringe of pines. What an infinity of pleasure could be had,if her mother only came round thoroughly regarding the Throckmortons!What rides and dances she could have with Jack, and Judith could talk tothe major! "What a dull life Judith must lead!" she thought, steppinglightly along. It was true, Judith liked to read; but Jacqueline, whofrankly confessed she could not read a novel through from cover tocover, hardly appreciated reading as a resource. Jacqueline'simagination, with this superstructure to build upon, went ardently towork, and in a few minutes had installed Judith as mistress ofMillenbeck, and herself as the young lady of the establishment. To doJacqueline justice, she longed for Judith's happiness, who, shesometimes bitterly felt, was her only friend. Just as she had arrangedthis scheme to her satisfaction, she looked up, and saw, not twenty feetahead of her, Major Throckmorton coming out of the underbrush at theside of the lane. A big slouch hat half concealed his face. His usualtrim and natty dress, with that unmistakable "military cut," wasexchanged for a shooting suit of corduroy, much stained, and otherwisethe worse for wear. His stylish and immaculate hat was replaced by theflapping felt, and his gun and game-bag proclaimed his day's employment.Yet Jacqueline thought she had never seen him look so handsome, and insome way she was not half so much afraid of him in his shooting-togs asin his perfectly fitting evening clothes. Jacqueline's face turned arosy red. As for Throckmorton, he too felt a thrill of pleasure. Thispretty child, as he called her, had been in his mind rather constantlysince he saw her at the party. He quickened his pace, and took his hatoff while still some distance away.

  "Any more parties in prospect?" he asked, smiling, as he took her littlehand in his.

  "No, I don't suppose there will be. Delicious parties like that don'thappen very often," answered Jacqueline, quite seriously, and not in theleast understanding Throckmorton's smile as she said this. "And--andyoung Mr. Throckmorton--oh, how I enjoyed dancing with him!"

  The major did not smile at this. To have "young Mr. Throckmorton" thrustat him by a charming young girl was not particularly pleasing.

  "Jack is a very jolly young fellow," he replied, shortly. "We are greatfriends, Jack and I."

  Jacqueline had turned around, and they were now walking together towardBarn Elms.

  "I--I should think," said Jacqueline, giving him one of her half-glancesfrom under the dark fringe of her eyelashes--"that J--Jack would beafraid of you."

  Throckmorton laughed aloud.

  "Why should he be afraid of me?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Everybody is afraid of one's father," repliedJacqueline, candidly.

  "Jack and I entertain sentiments of mutual respect," laughedThrockmorton again. "The only fault I find with him is that he is undulyfilial sometimes. For example, when I am enjoying the society of acharming young lady he thinks too young for me, he behaves as if I werehis great-grandfather instead of his father. Jack has a good deal ofSatan in him."

  Jacqueline did not always follow Throckmorton's remarks, but she noticedhe had a rich voice, and he was the straightest, most soldierly-lookingman she ever saw in her life. Throckmorton slung his game-bag around andheld it open.

  "Do you like robins?" he said. "They are delicious broiled ontoast"--and he took out a bird by the legs and showed it to her.

  Jacqueline stood perfectly still. Her eyes dilated and her breath camequickly. She took the bird out of his hand. It had long stoppedbleeding, and its little cold head, with half-closed eyes, fell overpiteously. Jacqueline took out her handkerchief and wrapped the poorrobin in it.

  "Oh, the poor bird!" she said, and suddenly two large tears ran down hercheeks.

  Throckmorton stood surprised, touched, delighted, and almost ashamed. Hehad been a sportsman all his life, and could see no harm in knockingover a few birds in the season; but the picture of this tender-heartedchild, that could not see a dead bird without weeping, struck him asbeautifully feminine. But what could he say? If he was a bloodthirstybrute to shoot a robin, what must all the slaughter of birds he hadbeen guilty of in his lifetime make him? He could only say, halfshamefacedly and half laughing "My dear little friend, you wouldn't havemen as squeamish as women, would you?"

  But to this Jacqueline only responded by pressing the poor bird's coldbreast to her cheek.

  Throckmorton, however, with an air of gentle authority, took the birdfrom her and put it back in the bag.

  "If you cry for such things as this, you will have a hard time in life,"he said.

  Jacqueline's face did not clear up at once.

  "I want you to do something for me--to promise me something," she said,gravely.

  "What is it?" asked Throckmorton. Jacqueline had laid her charm upon himin the last ten minutes, but he did not forget his caution entirely.

  "It is," said Jacqueline, punctuating her words with tender, appealingglances, "that you won't kill any more robins--never, never, as long asyou live."

  Throckmorton refrained from smiling, as he felt inclined, but it wasplainly no laughing matter to Jacqueline. And if he gave thepromise--nobody knew the absurdity of it more than Throckmorton--supposeJack heard of it, what endless fun would he poke at his father on thesly! Nevertheless, Throckmorton, calling himself an old fool, made thepromise.

  Jacqueline, flushed with triumph, now conceived a bold design. Shewould--that is, if her courage held out--tell him that her mother had atlast come round. This delightful information she proceeded to impart.

  "Do you know," she said, smiling and showing her little even whiteteeth, "that mamma has at last agreed to--to let us have something to dowith you and Jack?"

  "Has she, indeed?" replied Throckmorton, with rather a grim smile.

  "Yes," continued Jacqueline, with much seriousness. "Occasionally shegives papa a little treat. You know she always liked you, and papa hasbeen dying to call to see you. But mamma can't forget the war andBeverley. At last, though--she's been thinking about it ever since thatfirst day at church--she concluded to give in--and--and--you're to beasked to tea next Sunday evening!"

  The way this was told was not particularly flattering to Throckmorton,but he was sincerely grateful and attached to Mrs. Temple, and he knewand pitied the state of feeling that had caused her to intrench herselfin her prejudices. She must indeed remember those old days when she waswilling to do what Throckmorton suspected she had promised herself neverto do. "I want to be friends with Mrs. Temple--that's plain enough," hesaid, "and if she asks me I shall certainly come."

  "Do you know," said Jacqueline, after a pause, in a very confidentialvoice, "I sometimes wish--now this is a secret, remember--that papa andmamma would forget Beverley a little--and think--of Judith and me? Theyseem to expect Judith to wear black all the time, and never to smile orto laugh or to sing, as if Beverley could know. I don't believe the deadin their graves know or care anything about us."

  She was on delicate ground, but, her tongue being unloosed,Throckmorton's attempt to check her was a complete failure.

  "Judith, you know," she continued, cutting in on Throckmorton's awkwardremonstrance, "only knew Beverley a little while. Her father and motherwere dead, and papa was her guardian. She came to Barn Elms to liveafter she left school, and Beverley came home from the war, and theywere married right away--almost as soon as they were acquainted. It wasso sudden because Beverley's leave was up, and Delilah says thatBeverley knew he was going to be killed soon. She says he dreamed it, orsomething. Do you believe in dreams?"

  "No, and you mustn't believe all Delilah tells you."

  "Anyhow, he went away, and he never came back. That broke papa andmamma's hearts. And you know--little Beverley--Judith's child--is likeher--and not a bit like Beverley, and mamma talks sometimes as if it wasa crime on the child's part. She says to everybody, 'Don't you thinkthe child is like his father?'
and nobody answers her quite truthfully,and she knows it."

  Throckmorton hardly knew how to receive these family confidences, but hecould not but admire the color coming and going in Jacqueline's cheeks,and the fitful light that burned in her eyes as she talked.

  "And Judith--I do love Judith. It seems hard--now this is anothersecret--that she should never have any more pleasure in this world. Andshe is so bright and clever. She understands the most wonderful books.And there's something--I can't help telling you this."

  "Perhaps you had better not tell me," said Throckmorton in a warningvoice.

  "But I can't help it, you are so--so sympathetic: I don't believe Judithcared for Beverley much."

  Jacqueline drew off to see the effect of this on Throckmorton. She didnot at all suspect him of any interest in Judith; but this familytragedy, that had stalked beside her nearly all her life, she thoughtwas of immense importance, and she wanted to see how it affectedThrockmorton. In fact, it only embarrassed him. He said, rather briefly:

  "Mrs. Beverley is very handsome--very charming."

  "She's the best sister in the world," exclaimed Jacqueline. "Some peoplethink that sisters-in-law can't love each other. Sometimes I wouldthrow myself in the river if it wasn't for Judith."

  "Why should such a tender little thing as you want to throw herself inthe river?" he asked; and if Jack had heard the tone in which this wasspoken, he would, no doubt, have found food for ungodly mirth in it.

  "You don't know what sorrows I have," responded Jacqueline, gravely. Andthen they were almost at the gate of Barn Elms, and Throckmorton badeher good-by, and tramped back home, while Jacqueline scudded into thehouse to confide the wonderful adventures of the afternoon to Judith.

  In a day or two a note from General Temple came, inviting Throckmortonand Jack to tea at Barn Elms the following Sunday evening. It was rathera letter than a note, General Temple spreading himself--his honest soulloved a rhetorical flourish--and containing many references to theirearly association. Throckmorton accepted, in a reply in which he told,much more glibly than his tongue could, the grateful affection he hadcherished from his neglected and unhappy boyhood toward the whole familyat Barn Elms. On the Sunday evening, therefore, Throckmorton, with Jack,presented himself, and was effusively received by the general and SimonPeter, who were not unlike in their overpowering courtesy to guests.Judith was cordial and dignified, and Jacqueline full of a shy delight.No doubt they would be invited to Millenbeck, and she would see with herown eyes the Bruskins carpets and other royal splendors Delilah wasnever weary of recounting.

  General Temple was able to be down in the drawing-room, but Mrs. Templewas not present. Delilah, however, soon put her head in the door, and,crossing her hands under a huge white apron she wore, brought a message.

  "Mistis, she say, won't Marse George please ter come in de charmber."

  Throckmorton at once followed her. The "charmber" at Barn Elms was asort of star chamber, and utterances within its precincts were usuallyof a solemn character. As Throckmorton entered, Mrs. Temple rose fromthe big rush-bottomed chair in which she sat. Throckmorton rememberedthe room perfectly, in all the years since he had been in it--the dimitycurtains, the high-post mahogany bed, the shining brass fender andandirons, the tall candlesticks on the high wooden mantel. Heremembered, with a queer, boyish feeling, sundry moral discourses gentlyadministered to him in that room on certain occasions when he had beencaught in the act of fishing on Sunday, or poking a broomstick up thechimney to dislodge the sooty swallows that built their nests there inthe summer-time, and other instances of juvenile turpitude. And he wellrecollected once, when Mrs. Temple was ill, he had hung about theplace, a picture of boyish misery; and when at last he was admitted intothe room where she lay, white and feeble, on the broad, old-fashionedlounge, how happy, how glad, how honored he had felt. He went forwardeagerly and raised Mrs. Temple's hand to his lips.

  "George Throckmorton, this is nearer forgiveness than I ever expectedto come," she said.

  "Dear Mrs. Temple, don't let us talk about forgiveness. Let usonly remember that we are friends of more than thirty years'standing--because I can't remember the time when I was a boy that Ididn't love you."

  "And I loved you, too--next to my own Beverley. I sent for you here thatI might tell you my trouble as you used to tell me yours so long ago.Often you have sat on that little cricket over there and told me of yourgrandfather's cruel ways to you--he was a godless man, George."

  "He was indeed," fervently assented Throckmorton.

  "And now I want to tell you of _my_ sorrows, George."

  Throckmorton listened patiently while she went over all of Beverley'slife. She told it with a touching simplicity. Throckmorton well saw howthat still stern unforgiveness might rankle in her gentle but immovablemind. Then he told her of his marriage--something he had never in allhis life spoken of to any one in that manner; but the force of sweet andearly habit was upon him--he could talk to Mrs. Temple about the youngcreature so much loved and so long dead. Mrs. Temple, who knew what suchrevealing meant from a man of Throckmorton's strong and self-containednature, was completely won by this. An hour afterward, when they cameinto the drawing-room, and found Jack and Jacqueline in a perfect galeof merriment, with Judith looking smilingly on, Mrs. Temple laid herhand on Throckmorton's shoulder, and said to General Temple, with sweetgravity, "He is the same George Throckmorton."

  Judith was leaning a little forward in her chair, with her arm aroundher child. The boy was a beautiful, manly fellow, and gazed atThrockmorton with friendly, serious eyes. Throckmorton, whose heart wastender toward all children, smiled at him. Beverley at this marchedforward and climbed upon Throckmorton's knee, his little white frock,heavy with embroidery worked by Judith's patient fingers, spreading allaround him. The boy immediately launched into conversation, eyingThrockmorton boldly, although his eyes usually had the shy expression ofhis mother's. He wanted to know if Throckmorton had a gun, and could hebeat the drum; also, if he could ride a horse. Sometimes grandfatherwould take him up and let him ride as far as the gate. Throckmortonanswered all these questions satisfactorily, and then told about a ponyhe had at Millenbeck--a pony that had been Jack's, when Jack was nobigger than Beverley, and that was now too old and slow for any but avery little boy. While Throckmorton talked to the child, Judith listenedwith a smiling look in her eyes. Throckmorton could not but be struck bythe pretty picture the young mother and her child made. He saw theresemblance between them at once, and when he told of a tragic adventureJack had with the pony, falling through a bridge, both pairs of large,soft eyes grew wide with grave amazement. Unconsciously Judith assumedthe child's expression. Beverley seemed determined to monopolize his newacquaintance, but presently Judith with a little air of authority senthim off with Delilah. Beverley paused at the door to say:

  "You come again and bring the pony."

  Presently they went into the dining-room, and the old-fashioned tea wasserved. There was enough to feed a regiment, and all of the best kind,but nothing approaching vulgar display. Mrs. Temple put Throckmorton ather right, and every time she spoke to Jack she called him George.Throckmorton had forgotten nothing of the old days, and he not onlybegan to feel young himself, but he made General and Mrs. Temple feelthat time had turned backward. Jacqueline, on the opposite side of thetable, smiled at him and talked a little. In her heart she could notquite make out Throckmorton. He had arrived at an age that seemed to heralmost venerable; yet he quite ignored the fact that he ought to be old,and certainly was not old, nor could anybody say that he was young.Jack's boyish fun she understood well enough, but Throckmorton's shrewdhumor, his confident, experienced way of looking at things, was ratherbeyond her. And as the case had been, whenever Throckmorton saw her, hehad to exercise a certain restraint, lest everybody should see howstrangely and completely she magnetized him. If anybody had asked him tocompare Judith and Jacqueline, he would have given Judith the palm ineverything--even in beauty; but Jacqueline's young prettiness in someway c
aught his fancy more than Judith's deeper and more significantbeauty.

  But Judith had her charm too for him. She captivated his judgment asJacqueline captivated some inner sense to which he could give no name.Judith's talk was seasoned with liveliness, and Throckmorton, whopossessed a dry and penetrating humor of his own, could always count ona responsive sparkle in Judith's eye.

  When they returned to the drawing-room, Mrs. Temple said:

  "Judith, my dear, sing us some of your sweet hymns."

  Judith sat down to the piano and in her clear and bell-like soprano sangsome old-fashioned hymns, so sweetly and unaffectedly that Throckmortonthought it was like angels singing. The sound of the simple music, thesoft light of fire and lamp, the atmosphere of love and courtesy thatseemed to breathe over the quaint circle, had a fascination for him. Itwas the poetry of domestic life. He had often dreamed of what "home"might be, but he had never known it, for that brief married life of hishad been too short, too flickering; they were boy and girl lovers, and,before the new life had had time to crystallize, he was left alone. Buthere he saw the sweet privacy of home, the repose, the family nest, safeand warm. He sighed a little. Money could not buy it, else he would havehad it at Millenbeck, comfortable handsome country-house that it was.But here, at this shabby old Barn Elms, it was in perfection, in all itsnaturalness and simplicity. After all, women were necessary to make ahome; even money, with a Sweeney as presiding genius, couldn't do it.

  It was late when they left. Mrs. Temple's parting was as solemn as hergreeting:

  "I have done that which I never expected to do, and all because in myheart I can't but love you, George Throckmorton!"

  Throckmorton's keen pleasure showed in his dark eyes.

  "I always knew, if you would only listen to that dear, kind heart ofyours, you would forgive the Yankees," he laughed.