Keziah Coffin
Page 41
wuth considerin', anyhow."
This was surprising advice from a member of the Regular and wasindicative of the changed feeling in the community, but the minister, ofcourse, could not take it. He had plunged headlong into his church work,hoping that it and time would dull the pain of his terrible shock anddisappointment. It had been dulled somewhat, but it was still there, andevery mention of her name revived it.
One afternoon Keziah came into his study, where he was laboring with hisnext Sunday sermon, and sat down in the rocking-chair. She had been outand still wore her bonnet and shawl.
"John," she said, "I ask your pardon for disturbin' you. I know you'rebusy."
Ellery laid down his pen. "Never too busy to talk with you, AuntKeziah," he observed. "What is it?"
"I wanted to ask if you knew Mrs. Prince was sick?"
"No. Is she? I'm awfully sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?"
"No, I guess not. Only she's got a cold and is kind of under theweather. I thought p'r'aps you'd like to run up and see her. She thinksthe world and all of you, 'cause you was so good when she was distressedabout her son. Poor old thing! she's had a hard time of it."
"I will go. I ought to go, of course. I'm glad you reminded me of it."
"Yes. I told her you hadn't meant to neglect her, but you'd been busyfussin' with the fair and the like of that."
"That was all. I'll go right away. Have you been there to-day?"
"No. I just heard that she was ailin' from Didama Rogers. Didama saidshe was all but dyin', so I knew she prob'ly had a little cold, orsomethin'. If she was really very bad, Di would have had her buried bythis time, so's to be sure her news was ahead of anybody else's. I ain'tbeen up there, but I met her t'other mornin'."
"Didama?"
"No; Mrs. Prince. She'd come down to see Grace."
"Oh."
"Yes. The old lady's been awful kind and sympathizin' since--sincethis new trouble. It reminds her of the loss of her own boy, I presumelikely, and so she feels for Grace. John, what do they say around townabout--about HIM?"
"Captain Hammond?"
"Yes."
The minister hesitated. Keziah did not wait for him to answer.
"I see," she said slowly. "Do they all feel that way?"
"Why, if you mean that they've all given up hope, I should hardly saythat. Captain Mayo and Captain Daniels were speaking of it in my hearingthe other day and they agreed that there was still a chance."
"A pretty slim one, though, they cal'lated, didn't they?"
"Well, they were--were doubtful, of course. There was the possibilitythat he had been wrecked somewhere and hadn't been picked up. They citedseveral such cases. The South Pacific is full of islands where vesselsseldom touch, and he and his crew may be on one of these."
"Yes. They might, but I'm afraid not. Ah, hum!"
She rose and was turning away. Ellery rose also and laid his hand on herarm.
"Aunt Keziah," he said, "I'm very sorry. I respected Captain Hammond, inspite of--of--in spite of everything. I've tried to realize that he wasnot to blame. He was a good man and I haven't forgotten that he saved mylife that morning on the flats. And I'm so sorry for YOU."
She did not look at him.
"John," she answered, with a sigh, "sometimes I think you'd better getanother housekeeper."
"What? Are you going to leave me? YOU?"
"Oh, 'twouldn't be because I wanted to. But it seems almost as if therewas a kind of fate hangin' over me and that," she smiled faintly, "as if'twas sort of catchin', as you might say. Everybody I ever cared for hashad somethin' happen to 'em. My brother died; my--the man I married wentto the dogs; then you and Grace had to be miserable and I had to helpmake you so; I sent Nat away and he blamed me and--"
"No, no. He didn't blame you. He sent you word that he didn't."
"Yes, but he did, all the same. He must have. I should if I'd been inhis place. And now he's dead, and won't ever understand--on this earth,anyhow. I guess I'd better clear out and leave you afore I spoil yourlife."
"Aunt Keziah, you're my anchor to windward, as they say down here. IfI lost you, goodness knows where I should drift. Don't you ever talk ofleaving me again."
"Thank you, John. I'm glad you want me to stay. I won't leave yetawhile; never--unless I have to."
"Why should you ever have to?"
"Well, I don't know. Yes, I do know, too. John, I had another lettert'other day."
"You did? From--from that man?"
"Yup, from--" For a moment it seemed as if she were about to pronounceher husband's name, something she had never done in his presence; but ifshe thought of it, she changed her mind.
"From him," she said. "He wanted money, of course; he always does. Butthat wa'n't the worst. The letter was from England, and in it he wrotethat he was gettin' sick of knockin' around and guessed he'd be forcomin' to the States pretty soon and huntin' me up. Said what was theuse of havin' an able-bodied wife if she couldn't give her husband ahome."
"The scoundrel!"
"Yes, I know what he is, maybe full as well as you do. That's why Ispoke of leavin' you. If that man comes to Trumet, I'll go, sure asdeath."
"No, no. Aunt Keziah, you must free yourself from him. No power on earthcan compel you to longer support such a--"
"None on earth, no. But it's my punishment and I've got to put up withit. I married him with my eyes wide open, done it to spite the--theother, as much as anything, and I must bear the burden. But I tell youthis, John: if he comes here, to this town, where I've been respectedand considered a decent woman, if he comes here, I go--somewhere,anywhere that'll be out of the sight of them that know me. And whereverI go he shan't be with me. THAT I won't stand! I'd rather die, and Ihope I do. Don't talk to me any more now--don't! I can't stand it."
She hurried out of the room. Later, as the minister passed through thedining room on his way to the door, she spoke to him again.
"John," she said, "I didn't say what I meant to when I broke in on youjust now. I meant to tell you about Grace. I knew you'd like to know andwouldn't ask. She's bearin' up well, poor girl. She thought the world ofNat, even though she might not have loved him in the way that--"
"What's that? What are you saying, Aunt Keziah?"
"I mean--well, I mean that he'd always been like an own brother to herand she cared a lot for him."
"But you said she didn't love him."
"Did I? That was a slip of the tongue, maybe. But she bears it well andI don't think she gives up hope. I try not to, for her sake, and I trynot to show her how I feel."
She sewed vigorously for a few moments. Then she said:
"She's goin' away, Gracie is."
"Going away?"
"Yup. She's goin' to stay with a relation of the Hammonds over inConnecticut for a spell. I coaxed her into it. Stayin' here at homewith all this suspense and with Hannah Poundberry's tongue droppin'lamentations like kernels out of a corn sheller, is enough to kill ahealthy batch of kittens with nine lives apiece. She didn't want to go;felt that she must stay here and wait for news; but I told her we'd getnews to her as soon as it come, and she's goin'."
Ellery took his hat from the peg and opened the door. His foot was onthe step when Keziah spoke again.
"She--it don't mean nothin', John, except that she ain't so hard-heartedas maybe you might think--she's asked me about you 'most every time I'vebeen there. She told me to take good care of you."
The door closed. Keziah put down her sewing and listened as theminister's step sounded on the walk. She rose, went to the windowand looked after him. She was wondering if she had made a mistake inmentioning Grace's name. She had meant to cheer him with the thoughtthat he was not entirely forgotten, that he was, at least, pitied; butperhaps it would have been better to have remained silent. Her gazeshifted and she looked out over the bay, blue and white in the sun andwind. When she was a girl the sea had been kind to her, it had broughther father home safe, and those homecomings were her pleasantestmemories. But she now hated it. It was
cruel and cold and wicked. It hadtaken the man she loved and would have loved till she died, even thoughhe could never have been hers, and she had given him to another; it hadtaken him, killed him cruelly, perhaps. And now it might be bringing toher