Red Rock: A Chronicle of Reconstruction

by Thomas Nelson Page

  CHAPTER XXIV

  THE TRAVELLERS ARE ENTERTAINED IN A FARM-HOUSE

  The sun had already set some little time and the dusk was falling whenthey came to a track turning off from the “main, plain road,” whichthey agreed must be that described to them as leading to Dr. Cary’s.They turned in, and after passing through a skirt of woods came outinto a field, beyond which, at a little distance, they saw a light.They drove on; but as they mounted the hill from which the light hadshone Ruth’s heart sank, for, as well as they could tell through thegathering dusk, there was no house there at all, or if there was, itwas hidden by the trees around it. On reaching the crest, however, theysaw the light again, which came from a small cottage at the far side ofthe orchard, that looked like a little farm-house.

  “Well, we’ve missed Dr. Cary’s after all,” said Major Welch.

  It was too late now, however, to retrace their steps; so Major Welch,with renewed objurgations at the stupidity of people who could notgive a straight direction, determined to let Dr. Cary’s go, and askaccommodation there. Accordingly, they picked their way through theorchard and drove up to the open door from which the light was shining.

  At the Major’s halloo a tall form descended the low steps and came tothem. Major Welch stated their case as belated travellers.

  Ruth’s heart was instantly warmed by the cordial response:

  “Get right out, sir—glad to have you.”

  “Ah, my dear—here are a lady and gentleman who want to spend thenight.” This to a slender figure who had come out of the house andjoined them. “My daughter, madam; my daughter, sir.”

  “Good-evening,” said the girl, and Ruth, who had been wondering atthe softness of these farmer-voices, recollected herself just in timeto take the hand which she found held out to her in the darkness ininstinctive friendliness.

  “I am Major Welch,” said that gentleman, not to be behind his host inpoliteness. “And this is my daughter.”

  “We are glad to see you,” repeated the young girl simply to Ruth in hercharming voice, as if the introduction required a little more formalgreeting.

  “Ah! Major, glad to see you,” said the host, heartily. “Are you anyrelation to my old friend, General Welch of Columbia, who was withJohnson?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Major Welch.

  “Ah! I knew a Major Welch in the Artillery, and another in the SixthGeorgia, I think,” hazarded the host. “Are you either of those?”

  “No,” said the Major, with a laugh, “I was not. I was on the otherside—I was in the Engineer Corps under Grant.”

  “Oh!” said the host, in such undisguised surprise that Ruth could feelherself grow hot, and was sensible, even in the darkness, of a changein her father’s attitude.

  “Perhaps it may not be agree——I mean, convenient, for you to take usin to-night?” said Major Welch, rather stiffly.

  “Oh, my dear sir,” protested the other, “the war is over, isn’t it? Ofcourse it’s convenient. My wife is away just now, but, of course, itis always convenient to take in wayfarers.” And he led the horse off,while his daughter, whose quiet “Won’t you walk in?” soothed Ruth’sruffled spirit, conducted them into the house.

  When Ruth entered she had not the slightest idea as to either thename or appearance of their hosts. They had evidently assumed that thetravellers knew who they were when they applied to spend the night,and it had been too dark outside for Ruth to see their faces. She onlyknew that they had rich voices and cordial, simple manners, such aseven the plainest farmers appeared to have in this strange land, andshe had a mystified feeling. As she entered the door her mystificationonly increased. The room into which she was conducted from the littleveranda was a sitting or living room, lower in pitch than almost anyroom Ruth had ever been in, while its appointments appeared curiouslyincongruous to her eyes, dazzled as they were from coming in suddenlyfrom the darkness. Ruth took in this rather than observed it as shebecame accustomed to the light, for the first glance of the two girlswas at each other. Ruth found herself astonished at the appearance ofher hostess. Her face was so refined and her figure so slim that itoccurred to Ruth that she might be an invalid. Her dress was simple toplainness, plainer than Ruth had ever seen the youngest girl wear, andher breast-pin was nothing but a brass button, such as soldiers wear ontheir coats; yet her manners were as composed and gracious as if shehad been a lady and in society for years.

  “Why, she looks like a lady,” thought the girl, with a new feelingof shyness coming over her, and she stole a glance around her forsomething which would enable her to decide her hosts’ real position.The appointments of the room, however, only mystified her the more. Aplain, white board bookcase filled with old books stood on one side,with a gun resting in the corner, against it; two or three portraitsof bewigged personages in dingy frames, and as many profile portraitsin pastel hung on the walls, with a stained print or two, and a numberof photographs of soldiers in uniform among them. A mahogany tablewith carved legs stood in the centre of the room, piled with books,and the chairs were a mixture of home-made split-bottomed ones andold-fashioned, straight-backed armchairs.

  “How curious these farmers are,” thought Ruth; but she did not have agreat deal of time for reflection, for the next instant her hostess,who had been talking to her father, was asking if she would not “takeher things off” in so pleasant a voice, that before hat and coat wereremoved all constraint was gone and Ruth found herself completely athome. Then her hostess excused herself and went out for a moment. Ruthtook advantage of her absence to whisper to her father, with genuineenthusiasm, “Isn’t she pretty, father? What are they?”

  “I don’t know, but I suspect—” Just what it was that he suspectedRuth did not learn, for at that moment their host stepped in at thedoor, and laying his old worn hat on a table, made them another littlespeech, as if being under his roof required a new welcome. Major Welchbegan to apologize for running in on them so unceremoniously, but thefarmer assured him that an apology was quite unnecessary, and that theywere always glad to welcome travellers who came.

  “We are told to entertain strangers, you know; for thereby, they say,some have entertained angels unawares, and though we cannot exactly saythat we have ever done this yet,” he added, with a twinkle in his eye,“we may be beginning it now—who knows?” He made Ruth a bow with anold-fashioned graciousness which set her to blushing.

  “What a beautiful nose he has, finer even than my father’s,” shethought.

  Just then the young hostess returned, and the next moment an old negrowoman in a white kerchief stood in the door dropping courtesies asthough she were in a play. Ruth was shown up a narrow little flight ofstairs to a room so close under the sloping roof that it was only inthe middle of it that she could stand upright. Everything, however, wasspotlessly clean, and the white hangings, plain and simple as theywere, and the little knick-knacks arranged about, made it dainty. Thegirl picked up one of the books idly. It was an old copy of “The Vicarof Wakefield.” As she replaced the book, she observed that where it layit covered a patch.

  At supper they were waited on by the old negro woman she had seenbefore, whom both their host and hostess called “Mammy,” and treatednot so much as a servant, as if she were one of the family; and thoughthe china was old and cracked, and mostly of odd pieces, the younghostess presided with an ease which filled Ruth with astonishment.“Why, she could not do it better if she had lived in a city all herlife, and she is not a bit embarrassed by us,” she thought to herself.She observed that the only two pretty and sound cups were given to herand her father. The one she had was so dainty and unusual that shecould not help looking at it closely, and was a little taken aback, onglancing up, to find her hostess’s eyes resting on her. The smile thatcame into them, however, reassured Ruth, and she ventured to say, halfapologetically, that she was admiring the cup.

  “Yes, it is pretty, isn’t it?” assented the other girl. “It has quite ahistory; you must get my father to tell it to you. The
re used to be aset of them.”

  “It was a set which was presented to one of my ancestors by Charlesthe Second,” said the father thus appealed to, much as if he had said,“It is a set that was given me yesterday by a neighbor.” Ruth lookedat him with wide-open eyes and a little uncomfortable feeling that heshould tell her such a falsehood. His face, however, wore the same calmlook. “If you inspect closely, you can still make out the C. R. on it,though it is almost obliterated. My ancestor was with his father atCarisbrooke,” he added, casually, and Ruth, glancing at her father, sawthat it was true, and at the same moment took in also the fact thatthey had reached the place they had been looking for; and that thisfarmer, as she had supposed him to be, was none other than Dr. Cary,and the young girl whom she had been patronizing, was Larry Middleton’sBlair Cary, a lady like herself. How could she have made the mistake!As she looked at her host again, the thoughtful, self-contained face,the high-bred air, the slightly aquiline nose, the deep eyes, and thecalm mouth and the pointed beard made a perfect Vandyke portrait.Even the unstarched, loose collar and turned-back cuffs added to theimpression. Ruth seemed to have been suddenly carried back over twohundred years to find herself in presence of an old patrician. Sheblushed with confusion over her stupidity, and devoutly hoped withinherself that no one had noticed her mistake.

  After supper, Major Welch and Dr. Cary, who had renewed their oldacquaintance, fell to talking of the war, and Ruth was astonished tofind how differently their host looked at things from the way in whichall the people she had ever known regarded them. It was strange to thegirl to hear her people referred to as “the Yankees” or “the enemy”;and the other side, which she had always heard spoken of as “rebels,”mentioned with pride as “the Confederates” or “our men.” After alittle, she heard her father ask about the man he had come South tosee—Mr. Hiram Still. “Do you know him?” he asked their host.

  “Oh, yes, sir, I know him. We all know him. He was overseer for one ofmy friends and connections, who was, perhaps, the wealthiest man inthis section before the war, Mr. Gray, of Red Rock, the place where youspent the night you spoke of. Colonel Gray was killed at Shiloh, andhis property all went to pay his debts afterward. He had some heavyendorsements, and it turned out that he owed a great deal of money toStill for negroes he had bought to stock a large plantation he had inone of the other States—at least, the overseer gave this explanation,and produced the bonds, which proved to be genuine, though at first itwas thought they must be forged. I suppose it was all right, thoughsome people thought not, and it seems hard to have that fellow livingin Gray’s house.”

  “But he bought it, did he not?” asked Major Welch.

  “Oh, yes, sir, he bought it—bought it at a forced sale,” said Dr.Cary, slowly. “But I don’t know—to see that fellow living up therelooks very strange. There are some things so opposed to the customarycourse of events that the mind refuses to accept them.”

  “Still lives somewhat lower down, I believe?” said Major Welch.

  “No, sir, he is not very far off,” said Dr. Cary. “He is just acrossthe river a few miles. Do you know him?”

  “No, I do not. Not personally, that is. What sort of a man is he?”

  “Well, sir, he does not stand very well,” answered Dr. Cary,deliberately.

  “Ah! Why, if I may ask?” Major Welch was stiffening a little.

  “Well, he went off to the radicals,” said Dr. Cary, slowly, and Ruthwas amused at the look on her father’s face.

  “But surely a man may be a republican and not be utterly bad?” saidMajor Welch.

  “Yes, I suppose so, elsewhere,” admitted the other, doubtfully. “Infact, I have known one or two gentlemen who were—who thought it bestto accept everything, and begin anew—I did myself at first. But Isoon found it impossible. It does not prove efficacious down here. Yousee—But, perhaps, you are one yourself, sir?” very politely.

  “I am,” said Major Welch, and Ruth could see him stiffen.

  “Ah!” Their host leaned a little back. “Well, I beg your pardon.Perhaps, we will not discuss politics,” he said, with great courtesy.“We should only disagree and—you are my guest.”

  “But surely we can talk politics without becoming—ah—We have beendiscussing the war?” said Major Welch.

  “Ah, my dear sir, that is very different,” said Dr. Cary. “May I ask,have you any official—ah—? Do you expect to stay among us?”

  “Do you mean, am I a carpet-bagger?” asked Major Welch, with a smile.But the other was serious.

  “I would not insult you under my roof by asking you that question,”he said, gravely. “I mean are you thinking of settling among us as agentleman?”

  “Well, I can hardly say yet—but, perhaps, I am—thinking of it,” saidMajor Welch. “At least, that is one reason why I asked you about thatman, Still.”

  “Oh, well, of course, if you ask as my guest, I will take pleasure ingiving you any information you may wish.”

  “Is he a gentleman?” interrupted Major Welch.

  “Oh, no—certainly not that, sir. He is hand in glove with thecarpet-baggers, and the leader of the negroes about here. He and acarpet-bagger named Leech, and a negro preacher or exhorter namedSherwood, who, by the way, was one of my own negroes, and a negronamed Ash, who belonged to my friend General Legaie, and a sort oftrick-doctor named Moses, whom I once saved from hanging, are the worstmen in this section.”

  Major Welch had listened in silence, and now he changed the subject;for from the reference to Leech he began to think more and more that itwas only prejudice which made these men objects of such narrow dislike.

  When Ruth went up to bed she was in a sort of maze. The old negro womanwhom she had seen downstairs came up to wait on her, and Miss Welch wassoon enlightened as to several things. One was, that Dr. Cary’s familywas one of the greatest in the State—perhaps, in the old woman’sestimation, the greatest—except, of course, Mrs. Cary’s, to whichMammy Krenda gave rather the pre-eminence as she herself had alwaysbelonged to that family and had nursed Mrs. Cary and Miss Blair,her daughter. According to her they had been very rich, but had losteverything, first by the war, and then, by the wickedness of someone,against whom the old woman was especially bitter. “He ain’ nuttin’ buta low-down nigger-trader, nohow,” she declared, savagely. “He donecheat ev’ybody out der home, he and dat Leech together, an’ now deythink dey got ev’ything der own way, but dey’ll see. Dey’s dem as knowshow to deal wid ’em. An’ ef dee ever lay dee han’s pon me, dee’ll fineout. We ain’ gwine live in blacksmiff shop always. Dem’s stirrin’ whatdee ain’ know ’bout, an’ some day dee’ll heah ’em comin for ’em tojudgment.”

  “Ken I help you do anything?” she asked, presently.

  “No, I thank you,” said Ruth, stiffly. “Good-night.”

  “Good-night,” and she went.

  “Why, she don’t like us as much as she does them!” said the girl toherself, filled with amazement at this revolution of all her ideas.“Well, Larry’s right. Miss Cary is charming,” she reflected.

  As she dropped off to sleep she could hear the hum of voices below,where Dr. Cary and her father were keeping up their discussion of thewar. And as she was still trying to make out what they were saying, thesun came streaming into her room through a broken shutter and woke herup.