III
CLARENDON
Croyden left Northumberland in the morning--and his economy began withthe ride East: he went on Day Express instead of on the Limited,thereby saving the extra fare. At Philadelphia he sent his baggage tothe Bellevue-Stratford; later in the evening, he had it returned to thestation, and checked it, himself, to Hampton--to avoid the possibilityof being followed by means of his luggage.
He did not imagine that any one would go to the trouble to trace him,but he was not taking any chances. He wanted to cut himself away,utterly, from his former life, to be free of everyone he had everknown. It was not likely he would be missed.
Some one would say: "I haven't seen Croyden lately," would be answered:"I think he went abroad suddenly--about the time of the Royster &Axtell failure," and, with that, he would pass out of notice. If hewere to return, any time within the next five years, he would be met bya languid: "Been away, somewhere, haven't you? I thought I hadn'tnoticed you around the Club, lately."--And that would be the extent ofit.
One is not missed in a big town. His going and his coming are notwatched. There is no time to bother with another's affairs. Everyonehas enough to do to look after his own. The curiosity about one'sneighbors--what he wears, what he eats, what he does, every item in hisdaily life--that is developed by idleness, thrives in littleness, andgrows to perfection in scandal and innuendo--belongs solely to thesmall town. If one comes down street with a grip--instantly: So and sois "going away"--speculation as to why?--where?--what? One puts on anew suit, it is observed and noted.--A pair of new shoes, ditto.--A newnecktie, ditto. Every particular of his life is public property, isinspected for a motive, and, if a motive cannot be discovered, one issupplied--usually mean and little, the latter unctuously preferred.
All this Croyden was yet to learn, however.
He took the night's express on the N. Y., P. & N., whence, at HamptonJunction, he transferred to a branch line. For twenty miles the trainseemed to crawl along, burrowing into the sand hills and out again intosand, and in and out again, until, at length, with much whistling andescaping steam, they wheezed into the station and stopped.
There were a dozen white men, with slouch hats and nondescriptclothing, standing aimlessly around, a few score of negroes, and acouple of antique carriages with horses to match. The white men lookedat the new arrival, listlessly, and the negroes with no interest atall--save the two who were porters for the rival hotels. They both madefor Croyden and endeavored to take his grip.
He waved them away.
"I don't want your hotel, boys," he said. "But if you can tell me whereClarendon is, I will be obliged."
"Cla'endon! seh? yass, seh," said one, "right out at de een' o' devillage, seh--dis street tek's yo dyar, seh, sho nuf."
"Which end of the village?" Croyden asked.
"Dis een', seh, de fust house beyon' Majah Bo'den's, seh."
"How many blocks is it?"
"Blocks, seh!" said the negro. "'Tain't no blocks--it's jest de fustplace beyon' Majah Bo'den's."
Croyden laughed. "Here," he said, "you take my bag out toClarendon--I'll walk till I find it."
"Yass, seh! yass, seh! I'll do it, seh! but yo bettah ride, seh!"
"No!" said Croyden, looking at the vehicle. "It's safer to walk."
He tossed the negro a quarter and turned away.
"Thankee, seh, thankee, seh, I'll brings it right out, seh."
Croyden went slowly down the street, while the crowd stared after him,and the shops emptied their loafers to join them in the staring. He wasa strange man--and a well-dressed man--and they all were curious.
Presently, the shops were replaced by dwellings of the humbler sort,then they, in turn, by more pretentious residences--with here and therea new one of the Queen Anne type. Croyden did not need the information,later vouchsafed, that they belong to _new_ people. It was asunmistakable as the houses themselves.
About a mile from the station, he passed a place built of Englishbrick, covered on the sides by vines, and shaded by huge trees. Itstood well back from the street and had about it an air of aristocracyand exclusiveness.
"I wonder if this is the Bordens'?" said Croyden looking about him forsome one to ask--"Ah!"
Down the path from the house was coming a young woman. He slowed down,so as to allow her to reach the entrance gates ahead of him. She waspretty, he saw, as she neared--very pretty!--positively beautiful! darkhair and----
He took off his hat.
"I beg your pardon!" he said. "Is this Mr. Borden's?"
"Yes--this is Major Borden's," she answered, with a deliciously softintonation, which instantly stirred Croyden's Southern blood.
"Then Clarendon is the next place, is it not?"
She gave him the quickest glance of interest, as she replied in theaffirmative.
"Colonel Duval is dead, however," she added--"a caretaker is the onlyperson there, now."
"So I understood." There was no excuse for detaining her longer. "Thankyou, very much!" he ended, bowed slightly, and went on.
It is ill bred and rude to stare back at a woman, but, if ever Croydenhad been tempted, it was now. He heard her footsteps growing fainter inthe distance, as he continued slowly on his way. Something behind himseemed to twitch at his head, and his neck was positively stiff withthe exertion necessary to keep it straight to the fore.
He wanted another look at that charming figure, with the mass of blueblack hair above it, and the slender silken ankles and slim tan-shodfeet below. He remembered that her eyes were blue, and that they methim through long lashes, in a languidly alluring glance; that she wasfair; and that her mouth was generous, with lips full but delicate--aface, withal, that clung in his memory, and that he proposed to seeagain--and soon.
He walked on, so intent on his visual image, he did not notice that theBorden place was behind him now, and he was passing the avenue that ledinto Clarendon.
"Yass, seh! hyar yo is, marster!--hyar's Clarendon," called the negro,hastening up behind him with his bag.
Croyden turned into the walk--the black followed.
"Cun'l Duval's done been daid dis many a day, seh," he said. "Folks sezez how it's owned by some city fellah, now. Mebbe yo knows 'im, seh?"
Croyden did not answer, he was looking at the place--and the negro,with an inquisitively curious eye, relapsed into silence.
The house was very similar to the Bordens'--unpretentious, except forthe respectability that goes with apparent age, vine clad and treeshaded. It was of generous proportions, without being large--with acentral hall, and rooms on either side, that rose to two stories, andwas topped by a pitch-roof. There were no piazzas at front or side,just a small stoop at the doorway, from which paths branched around tothe rear.
"I done 'speck, seh, yo go roun' to de back," said the negro, asCroyden put his foot on the step. "Ole Mose 'im live dyar. I'll bring'im heah, ef yo wait, seh."
"Who is old Mose--the caretaker?" said Croyden.
The place was looked after by a real estate man of the village, andneither his father nor he had bothered to do more than meet theaccounts for funds. The former had preferred to let it remainunoccupied, so as to have it ready for instant use, if he so wished,and Croyden had done the same.
"He! Mose he's Cun'l Duval's body-survent, seh. Him an'Jos'phine--Jos'phine he wif', seh--dey looks arfter de place sence deole Cun'l died."
Croyden nodded. "I'll go back."
They followed the right hand path, which seemed to be more used thanits fellow. The servants' quarters were disclosed at the far end of thelot.
Before the tidiest of them, an old negro was sitting on a stool,dreaming in the sun. At Croyden's appearance, he got up hastily, andcame forward--gray-haired, and bent.
"Survent, seh!" he said, with the remains of what once must have been awonderfully graceful bow, and taking in the stranger's attire with asingle glance. "I'se ole Mose. Cun'l Duval's boy--seh, an' I looksarfter de place, now. De Cun'l he's daid, yo knows, seh. What can I dofur
yo, seh?"
"I'm Mr. Croyden," said Geoffrey.
"Yass, seh! yass, seh!" the darky answered, inquiringly.
It was evident the name conveyed no meaning to him.
"I'm the new owner, you know--since Colonel Duval died," Croydenexplained.
"Hi! yo is!" old Mose exclaimed, with another bow. "Well, praise deLawd! I sees yo befo' I dies. So yo's de new marster, is yo? I'mpow'ful glad yo's come, seh! pow'ful glad. What mout yo name be, seh?"
"Croyden!" replied Geoffrey. "Now, Moses, will you open the house andlet me in?"
"Yo seen Marster Dick?" asked the darky.
"You mean the agent? No! Why do you ask?"
"Coz why, seh--I'm beggin' yo pa'den, seh, but Marster Dick sez, sezhe, 'Don' nuvver lets no buddy in de house, widout a writin' from me.'I ain' doubtin' yo, seh, 'deed I ain', but I ruther hed de writin'."
"You're perfectly right," Croyden answered. "Here, boy!--do you knowMr. Dick? Well, go down and tell him that Mr. Croyden is at Clarendon,and ask him to come out at once. Or, stay, I'll give you a note tohim."
He took a card from his pocketbook, wrote a few lines on it, and gaveit to the negro.
"Yass, seh! Yass, seh!" said the porter, and, dropping the grip wherehe stood, he vanished.
Old Mose dusted the stool with his sleeve, and proffered it.
"Set down, seh!" with another bow. "Josh won' be long."
Croyden shook his head.
"I'll lie here," he answered, stretching himself out on the grass. "Youwere Colonel Duval's body-servant, you say."
"Yass, seh! from de time I wuz so 'igh. I don' 'member when I warn' hebody-survent. I follows 'im all th'oo de war, seh, an' I wus wid 'imwhen he died." Tears were in the darky's eyes. "Hit's purty nigh timeole Mose gwine too."
"And when he died, you stayed and looked after the old place. That wasthe right thing to do," said Croyden. "Didn't Colonel Duval have anychildren?"
"No, seh. De Cun'l nuvver married, cuz Miss Penelope----"
He caught himself. "I toles yo 'bout hit some time, seh, mebbe!" heended cautiously--talking about family matters with strangers was notto be considered.
"I should like to hear some time," said Croyden, not seeming to noticethe darky's reticence. "When did the Colonel die?"
"Eight years ago cum corn plantin' time, seh. He jes' wen' right offquick like, when de mis'ry hit 'im in de chist--numonya, de doctorscall'd it. De Cun'l guv de place to a No'thern gent'man, whar was he'ticular frien', and I done stay on an' look arfter hit. He nuvver beenheah. Hi! listen to dis nigger! yo's de gent'mans, mebbe."
"I am his son," said Croyden, amused.
"An' yo owns Cla'endon, now, seh? What yo goin' to do wid it?"
"I'm going to live here. Don't you want to look after me?"
"Goin' to live heah!--yo means it, seh?" the darky asked, in greatamazement.
Croyden nodded. "Provided you will stay with me--and if you can find mea cook. Who cooks your meals?"
"Lawd, seh! find yo a cook. Didn' Jos'phine cook fur de Cun'l all helife--Jos'phine, she my wife, seh--she jest gone nex' do', 'boutsome'n." He got up--"I calls her, seh."
Croyden stopped him.
"Never mind," he said; "she will be back, presently, and there is ampletime. Any one live in these other cabins?"
"No, seh! we's all wha' left. De udder niggers done gone 'way, sence deCun'l died, coz deah war nothin' fur dem to do no mo', an' no buddy topays dem.--Dyar is Jos'phine, now, sir, she be hear torectly. An' heahcomes Marster Dick, hisself."
Croyden arose and went toward the front of the house to meet him.
The agent was an elderly man; he wore a black broadcloth suit, shiny atthe elbows and shoulder blades, a stiff white shirt, a wide roomycollar, bound around by a black string tie, and a broad-brimmeddrab-felt hat. His greeting was as to one he had known all his life.
"How do you do, Mr. Croyden!" he exclaimed. "I'm delighted to make youracquaintance, sir." He drew out a key and opened the front door."Welcome to Clarendon, sir, welcome! Let us hope you will like itenough to spend a little time here, occasionally."
"I'm sure I too hope so," returned Croyden; "for I am thinking ofmaking it my home."
"Good! Good! It's an ideal place!" exclaimed the agent. "It'sconvenient to Baltimore; and Philadelphia, and New York, and Washingtonaren't very far away. Exactly what the city people who can afford it,are doing now,--making their homes in the country. Hampton's a town,but it's country to you, sir, when compared to Northumberland--open theshutters, Mose, so we can see.... This is the library, with thedining-room behind it, sir--and on the other side of the hall is thedrawing-room. Open it, Mose, we will be over there presently. You see,sir, it is just as Colonel Duval left it. Your father gave instructionsthat nothing should be changed. He was a great friend of the Colonel,was he not, sir?"
"I believe he was," said Croyden. "They met at the White Sulphur, whereboth spent their summers--many years before the Colonel died."
"There, hangs the Colonel's sword--he carried it through the war,sir--and his pistols--and his silk-sash, and here, in the corner, isone of his regimental guidons--and here his portrait inuniform--handsome man, wasn't he? And as gallant and good as he washandsome. Maryland lost a brave son, when he died, sir."
"He looks the soldier," Croyden remarked.
"And he was one, sir--none better rode behind Jeb Stuart--and never farbehind, sir, never far behind!"
"He was in the cavalry?"
"Yes, sir. Seventh Maryland Cavalry--he commanded it during the lasttwo years of the war--went in a lieutenant and came out its colonel. Afine record, sir, a fine record! Pity it is, he had none to leave itto!--he was the last of his line, you know, the last of the line--noteven a distant cousin to inherit."
Croyden looked up at the tall, slender man in Confederate gray, withclean-cut aristocratic features, wavy hair, and long, droopingmustache. What a figure he must have been at the head of his command,or leading a charge across the level, while the guns of the Federalsbelched smoke, and flame and leaden death.
"They offered him a brigade," the agent was saying, "but he declinedit, preferring to remain with his regiment."
"What did he do when the war was over?" Croyden asked.
"Came home, sir, and resumed his law practice. Like his great leader,he accepted the decision as final. He didn't spend the balance of hislife living in the past."
"And why did he never marry? Surely, such a man" (with a wave of hishand toward the portrait) "could have picked almost where he chose!"
"No one ever just knew, sir--it had to do with Miss Borden,--the sisterof Major Borden, sir, who lives on the next place. They weresweethearts once, but something or somebody came between them--andthereafter, the Colonel never seemed to think of love. Perhaps, oldMose knows it, and if he comes to like you, sir, he may tell you thestory. You understand, sir, that Colonel Duval is Mose's old master,and that every one stands or falls, in his opinion, according as theymeasure up to him. I hope you intend to keep him, sir--he has been afaithful caretaker, and there is still good service in him--and hiswife was the Colonel's cook, so she must have been competent. She wouldnever cook for anyone, after he died. She thought she belonged toClarendon, sort of went with the place, you understand. Just stayed andhelped Mose take care of it. She doubtless will resume charge of thekitchen again, without a word. It's the way of the old negroes, sir.The young ones are pretty worthless--they've got impudent, andindependent and won't work, except when they're out of money. Excuseme, I ramble on----"
"I'm much interested," said Croyden; "as I expect to live here, I mustlearn the ways of the people."
"Well, let Mose boss the niggers for you, at first; he understandsthem, he'll make them stand around. Come over to the drawing-room, sir,I want you to see the furniture, and the family portraits.... There,sir, is a set of twelve genuine Hepplewhite chairs--no doubt about it,for the invoice is among the Colonel's papers. I don't know much aboutsuch things, but a man was through here, about a year ag
o, and, wouldyou believe it, when he saw the original invoice and looked at thechairs, he offered me two thousand dollars for them. Of course, as Ihad been directed by your father to keep everything as the Colonel hadit, I just laughed at him. You see, sir, they have the three feathers,and are beautifully carved, otherwise. And, here, is a lowboy, with theshell and the fluted columns, and the cabriole legs, carved on theknees, and the claw and ball feet. He offered two hundred dollars forit. And this sofa, with the lion's claw and the eagle's wing, he wantedto buy it, too. In fact, sir, he wanted to buy about everything in thehouse--including the portraits. There are two by Peale and one byStuart--here are the Peales, sir--the lady in white, and the youngofficer in Continental uniform; and this is the Stuart--the gentlemanin knee breeches and velvet coat. I think he is the same as the one inuniform, only later in life. They are the Colonel's grandparents, sir:Major Daniel Duval, of the Tenth Maryland Line, and his wife; she was aMiss Paca--you know the family, of course, sir. The Major's commission,sir, hangs in the hall, between the Colonel's own and his father's--hewas an officer in the Mexican war, sir. It was a fighting family, sir,a fighting family--and a gentle one as well. 'The bravest are thetenderest, the loving are the daring.'"
There was enough of the South Carolinian of the Lowlands in Croyden,to appreciate the Past and to honor it. He might not know muchconcerning Hepplewhite nor the beauty of his lines and carving, and hemight be wofully ignorant of his own ancestors, having been bred in aState far removed from their nativity, for he had never given a thoughtto the old things, whether of furniture or of forebears--they were ofthe inanimate; his world had to do only with the living and what wasincidental to it. The Eternal Now was the Fetich and the God ofNorthumberland, all it knew and all it lived for--and he, with everyone else, had worshipped at its shrine.
It was different here, it seemed! and the spirit of his long deadmother, with her heritage of aristocratic lineage, called to him,stirring him strangely, and his appreciation, that was sleeping and notdead, came slowly back to life. The men in buff-and-blue, insmall-clothes, in gray, the old commissions, the savour of the pastthat clung around them, were working their due. For no man of cultureand refinement--nay, indeed, if he have but their veneer--can stand inthe presence of an honorable past, of ancestors distinguished andrespected, whether they be his or another's, and be unmoved.
"And you say there are none to inherit all these things?" Croydenexclaimed. "Didn't the original Duval leave children?"
The agent shook his head. "There was but one son to each generation,sir--and with the Colonel there was none."
"Then, having succeeded to them by right of purchase, and with nobetter right outstanding, it falls to me to see that they are notshamed by the new owner. Their portraits shall remain undisturbedeither by collectors or by myself. Moreover, I'll look up my ownancestors. I've got some, down in South Carolina and up inMassachusetts, and if their portraits be in existence, I'll addreproductions to keep the Duvals company. Ancestors by inheritance andancestors by purchase. The two of them ought to keep me straight, don'tyou think?" he said, with a smile.
In Her Own Right Page 3