Westways: A Village Chronicle

by S. Weir Mitchell

  CHAPTER XXX

  As the trains went northward crowded with more or less damaged officersand men, John Penhallow in his faded engineer uniform showed signs ofrenewed vitality. He chatted in his old companionable way with the otherhome-bound volunteers, and as they went through Baltimore related toMcGregor with some merriment his bloodless duel with Mrs. Penhallow'sRebel brother Henry. The doctor watched him with the most friendlysatisfaction and with such pride as a florist may have in his prosperingflowers. The colour of health was returning to the pale face and therewas evidently relief from excessive pain. He heard, too, as they chatted,of John's regrets that his simple engineer dress was not as neat as hewould have desired and of whether his aunt would dislike it. Wearing thestation of Westways Crossing, John fell into a laughing account of hisfirst arrival and of the meeting with Leila. The home-tonic was of useand he was glad with gay gladness that the war was over.

  As the train stopped, he said as he got out, "There is no carriage--youtelegraphed, McGregor?"

  "Yes, I did, but the service is, I fancy, snowed under just now withmessages. I will walk on and have them send for you."

  "No," said John, "I am quite able to walk. Come along."

  "Are you really able?"

  "Yes--we'll take it easy."

  "There isn't much left of you to carry what remains."

  "My legs are all right, Tom." He led the way through the woods until theycame out on the avenue. "Think of it, Tom,--it is close to nine yearssince first I left Grey Pine for the Point."

  In the afternoon of this sunny day late in April the Colonel sat on theporch with his wife. Below them on the step Rivers was reading aloud thedetailed account of Lincoln's death. Leila coming out of the house wasfirst to see the tall thin figure in dark undress uniform. She wasthankful for an unwatched moment of ability to gain entire self-command.It was needed. She helped herself by her cry of joyous recognition.

  "Aunt Ann! Aunt Ann!" she cried, "there is Dr. McGregor and--and John andJosiah." The aunt cast a look of anxiety at the expressionless face ofJames Penhallow, as he rose to his feet, saying, "Why wasn't I told?"

  "We did not know, sir," said Rivers, dropping the paper as he went downthe steps to meet the new-comer.

  Then the wasted figure with the left arm in a sling was in AnnPenhallow's embrace.

  "My God!" he said, "but it's good to be at home." As he spoke he turnedto the Colonel who had risen.

  "Got hit, John? It runs in the family. Once had a Sioux arrow through myarm. Glad to see you. Want to be fed up a bit. Lord! but you're lean." Hesaid no more, but sat down again without appearance of interest.

  Rivers made John welcome with a pleasant word, and Leila coming forwardtook his hand, saying quietly, "We hardly looked for you to-day, but itis none too soon." Then she turned to McGregor, "We have much to thankyou for. You will stay to dine?"

  John, still too sensitive, was troubled as he realized his uncle'scondition, and felt that there was something in Leila's manner which wasunlike that of the far-remembered Leila of other days. She had urgedMcGregor to stay and dine, and then added, "But, of course, that pleasuremust wait--you will want to see your father. He is so proud of you--as weall are."

  "That is a pleasant welcome, Miss Leila; and, dear Mrs. Penhallow, I donot want a carriage, I prefer to walk. I will see you, John, and thatlame arm to-morrow. Good-bye, Colonel."

  The master of Grey Pine said, "Nice young man! Ann ought to kill thefatted calf. Tell John not to be late for dinner."

  "It is all right, James," said Mrs. Ann, "all right."

  Rivers watched with pain the vacant face of the Colonel. This mentalfailure constantly recalled the days of anguish when with despair he hadseen all who were dear to him one after another die mentally before theirmerciful exit from life.

  "John must be tired," he said. Leila, who noted on the young soldier'sface the effect of sudden realization of his useless state said, "Yourroom is ready, John."

  "Yes," said John, "I should like to rest before dinner."

  With a word as to the fatigue of his journey, Leila followed him into thewell-remembered hall.

  "Good heavens, Leila. It seems an age since I was here. Send up Josiah.I am like a baby and need him to help me."

  She looked after him pitifully as he went up the stairs. "Surely," shethought, "we have paid dearly our debt to the country."

  He came down at six o'clock, still in his undress uniform, but thinkingthat his aunt would not like it. In a day or two he would have thecivilian clothes he had ordered in Philadelphia. He need have had no suchanxiety; she was indifferent to all but her husband, who sat at tablespeechless, while Leila and John too consciously manufactured talk of thehome and the mills--and the ending of the war. After the meal Ann beganher patient efforts to interest the Colonel with a game of cards and thenof backgammon. It seemed only to make him irritable, and he said at last,"I think I must go to bed."

  "Certainly, dear." She went with him upstairs, saying, "Good-night,children."

  "She will not return, John. This is what goes on day after day."

  "It is very sad--I did not fully comprehend his condition."

  "He is often far worse, and complains of his head or is resolutely--Ishould say obstinately--bent on some folly, such as walking to the millsand advising them. Aunt Ann never contradicts him--what he wants, shewants. Not the most reasonable opposition is of any use."

  "Does he never ride, Leila?"

  "Never, and is vexed when Dr. McGregor calls to see him and advises aconsultation. Once we had a distressing outbreak."

  "And yet," said John, "there should have been other advice long ago.Somehow there must be."

  "Mr. Rivers has urged it and made him angry; as for Aunt Ann, she seesonly the bright side of his case and humours him as she would a sickchild."

  "She is greatly changed, Leila. I hardly know how to state it. She has alook of--well, of something spiritual in her face."

  "Yes, that is true. Are you in pain, John?" she added.

  "Yes--not in great pain, but enough. For two weeks I did sufferhorribly."

  "John! Oh, my poor Jack! We never knew--is it so bad?"

  "Yes, imagine a toothache in your elbow with a variety of torments in thewhole arm."

  "I can't imagine. I never had a toothache--in fact, I hardly know thesensation of serious pain."

  "Well, I broke down under it, Leila. I became depressed and quitefoolishly hopeless. Some day I will tell you what helped me out of amorass of melancholy."

  "Tell me now."

  "No, I must go to bed. I am getting better and will get off with a stiffelbow, so Tom says. At first they talked of amputation. That was awful.Good-night!"

  It was none too soon. She was still unsure of herself, and although noword of tender approach had disturbed her as he talked, and she was gladof that, the tense look of pain, the reserve of his hospital confessionof suffering nearly broke down her guarded attitude. As he passed out ofview at the turn of the stairs, she murmured, "Oh, if only Uncle Jim werewell."

  Josiah came at the call of the bell. She detained him. She asked, "Howwas the Captain wounded? No one wrote of how it happened."

  "Well, missy, he would ride a horse called Hoodoo--it was just the badluck of that brute done it." Josiah's account was graphic and clearenough. John Penhallow's character lost nothing as interpreted by Josiah.

  "It was a dangerous errand, I suppose."

  "Yes, Miss Leila. You see, when they know about a man that he somehowdon't mind bullets and will go straight to where he's sent, they're veryapt to get him killed. At the first shot he ought to have tumbled off andplayed possum till it was dark."

  "But then," said Leila, "he would have been too late with General Parke'smessage."

  "Of course, Master John couldn't sham dead like I would.--I don't despisebullets like he does. Once before he had orders to go somewhere, andcouldn't get across a river. He was as mad as a wet hen."

  "A wet hen--delightful! Did he do it?"


  "Guess you don't know him! When Master John wants anything, well, he's aterrible wanter--always was that way even when he was a boy--when hewants anything, he gets it."

  "Indeed! does he? I think he is waiting for you, Josiah."

  The black's conclusive summary hardened the young woman's heart. She sata while smiling, then took up a book and failed to become interested.

  As John became familiar with the altered life of a household once happyand in pleasant relation to the outer world, he felt as Leila had donethe depressing influence of a home in which the caprices of an invalidlife were constantly to be considered. Meanwhile his own spare figuregained flesh, and on one sunny morning--he long remembered it--he wasrather suddenly free from pain, and with only the stiff elbow was, asMcGregor described it, "discharged cured."

  For some time he had been feeling that in bodily vigour and sense ofbeing his normal self he had been rapidly gaining ground. The relief fromthe thraldom of pain brought a sudden uplift of spirits and a feeling ofhaving been born anew into an inheritance of renewed strength and ofsenses sharpened beyond what he had ever known. A certain activity ofhappiness like a bodily springtime comes with such a convalescence.Ceasing to feel the despotism of self-attention, he began to recover hisnatural good sense and to watch with more care his uncle's state, hisaunt's want of consideration for any one but James Penhallow, and theeffect upon Leila of this abnormal existence. He began to understand thatto surely win this sad girl-heart there must be a patient siege, andabove all something done for the master of Grey Pine. He recognized withlove's impatience the beauty of this young life amid the difficulties ofthe Colonel's moods and Ann Penhallow's ill-concealed jealousy. A greatpassion may be a very selfish thing, or in the nobler natures rise sohigh on the wings of love that it casts like the singing lark no shadowon the earth. He could wait and respect with patient affection the senseof duty which perhaps--ah! that perhaps--made love a thing which mustwait--yes, and wait too with helpful service where she too had noblyserved.

  When the day came for his first venture on a horse and he rode throughthe young leafage of June, no enterprise seemed impossible. How could hebe of use to her and these dear people to whom he owed so much? War hadbeen costly, but it had taught him that devotion to the duty of the hourwhich is one of the best lessons of that terrible schoolmaster. Therewas, as he saw every day, no overruling common sense in the household ofGrey Pine, and no apparent possibility of reasonable control. Just now itwas worse than ever, and he meant to talk it over with the two McGregors.With Josiah riding behind him, he left a message here and there in thevillage, laughing and jesting, with a word of sympathy where the war hadleft its cruel memories. He had been in the little town very often sincehis return, but never before when free from pain or with the pleasantconsciousness that he had it in his power to be to these friends of hischildhood what the Colonel had been. He talked to Joe Grace, left amessage for Pole's son, and then rode on to his appointment.

  He sat down with father and son in the unchanged surroundings of theuntidy office; even the flies were busy as before on the old man'stempting bald head.

  "Well, John," said the doctor, "what's up now? The Squire won't see me atall." Tom sat still and listened.

  "There are two things to consider, and I want your advice; but, first, Iwant to say that there is no head to that family. I wonder how Leilastands it. I mean that your advice shall be taken about a consultationwith Prof. Askew."

  "You want my advice? Do you, indeed! Mrs. Penhallow will ask theColonel's opinion, he will swear, and the matter is at an end."

  "I mean to have that consultation," said John. Tom laughed and noddedapproval.

  "It's no use, John, none," said the older man.

  "We shall see about that. Do you approve?--that is my question."

  "If that's the form of advice you want, why, of course--yes--but count meout."

  "Count me in, John," said the younger surgeon. "I know what Askew willsay and what should have been done long ago."

  "An operation?" asked his father.

  "Yes, sir, an operation."

  "Too late!"

  "Well," said John, "he gets no worse; a week or two will make nodifference, I presume."

  "None," said Dr. McGregor.

  "It may," said Tom.

  "Well, it may have to wait. Just now there is a very serious question.Aunt Ann made last night the wild suggestion that the Colonel might beamused if we had one of those rummage-sales with which she used todelight the village. Uncle Jim at once declared it to be the thing hewould like best. Aunt Ann said we must see about it at once. Hersatisfaction in finding an amusement which the Colonel fancied was reallychildlike. Leila said nothing, nor did I. In fact, the proposal cameabout when I happened unluckily to say what a fine chance Uncle Sam hadfor a rummage-sale after a forced march or a fight. I recall having saidmuch the same thing long ago in a letter to Leila."

  "Then there's nothing to be done just now, John," remarked Tom McGregor,"but I cannot conceive of anything more likely to affect badly adisordered brain."

  The older man was silent until John asked, "Is it worth while to talk toAunt Ann about it--advise against it?"

  "Quite useless, John. I advise you and Leila quietly to assist your aunt,and like as not the Colonel may forget all about it in a day or two."

  "No, Doctor. To-day he had Billy up with him in the attic bringing downwhatever he can find, useful or useless."

  With little satisfaction from this talk, John rode homeward. Sitting inthe saddle at the post-office door, he called for the mail. Mrs. Crocker,of undiminished bulk and rosiness, came out.

  "How's your arm, Captain? I bet it's more use than mine. The rheumatismhave took to permanent boarding in my right shoulder--and no glory likeyou got to show for it."

  "I could do without the glory."

  "No, you couldn't. If I was a man, I'd be glad to swap; you've got tomake believe a bit, but the town's proud of you. I guess some one willsoon have to look after them Penhallow mills." Mrs. Crocker put adetaining hand on his bridle reins.

  "Yes, yes," said John absently, glancing well pleased over a kind letterof inquiry from General Parke. "Well, what else, Mrs. Crocker?"

  "The Colonel quite give me a shock this morning. He's not been here--no,not once--since he came home. Well, he walked in quite spry and told methere was to be a rummage-sale in a week, and I was to put up a noticeand tell everybody. Why, Mr. John, he was that natural. He went awaylaughing because I offered to sell my old man--twenty-five cents apound. I did notice he don't walk right."

  "Yes, I have noticed that; but this notion of a rummage-sale has seemedto make him better. Now, suppose you let my reins go."

  "Oh, Mr. John, don't be in such a hurry. It's surely a responsible place,this post-office; I don't ever get time for a quiet talk."

  "Well, Mrs. Crocker, now is your chance."

  "That's real good of you. I was wanting to ask if you ever heard anythingof Peter Lamb. He wrote to his mother he was in the army, and then thatwas the end of it. She keeps on writing once a week, and the letters comeback stamped 'not found.' I guess he's wandering somewhere."

  "Like enough. I went to see her last week, but I could not give her anycomfort. She couldn't have a worse thing happen than for Peter to comehome."

  "Well, Captain John, when you come to have babies of your own, you'llfind mothers are a curious kind of animal."

  "Mothers!" laughed John. "I hope there won't be more than one. Now, Ireally must go."

  "Oh, just one more real bit of news. Lawyer Swallow's wife was hereyesterday with another man to settle up her husband's business."

  "Is he dead?"

  "They say so, but you can't believe everything you hear. Now, don'thurry. What most killed Swallow was just this: He hated Pole like poison,and when he got a five hundred dollar mortgage-grip on Pole's pasturemeadow, he kept that butcher-man real uneasy. When you were all away,Swallow began to squeeze--what those lawyers call 'foreclose.' It's
just some lawyer word for robbery."

  "It's pretty bad, Mrs. Crocker, but two people are waiting for you andthis isn't exactly Government business."

  "Got to hear the end, Captain."

  "I suppose so--what next?" Dixy wondered why the spur touched him evenlightly.

  "Pole, he told Mrs. Penhallow all about it, and she wasn't as glad tohelp her meat-man as she was to bother Swallow, so she took over themortgage. When the Squire first came home from Washington and wasn't likehe was later, she told him, of course. Now everybody knows Pole's ways,and so the Squire he says to me--he was awful amused--'Mrs. Crocker, Iasked Mrs. Penhallow how Pole was going to pay her.' She said she did putthat at Pole, and he said it wouldn't take long to eat up that debt atGrey Pine. He wouldn't have dared to speak like that to your aunt if shehadn't got to be so meek-like, what with war and bother." By this timeDixy was with reason displeased and so restless that Mrs. Crocker let thereins drop, but as John Penhallow rode away she cried, "The price ofmeats at Grey Pine has been going up ever since, until Miss Leila--" Therest was lost to the Captain. He rode away laughing as he reflected onwhat share of Pole's debt he was to devour.