VII
Like most country folks, my new friends went to bed shortly aftersundown. About nine o'clock, I took my pipe and my tobacco-pouch, andcrept noiselessly out to the front porch. I had noticed a quaint setteethere upon my arrival that morning, and I had no trouble in finding itnow, for a ghostly moonlight had settled over everything. My mind wasconfronted by a question of decidedly more moment than any under whichit had at any time before labored, and I had to think it out before Icould sleep. If my cherished and faithful pipe, together with solitudeand the wondrous silence of a night in spring, could not bring asolution to me, then the question was certainly beyond me.
"--And'll be home the fifth of June, God bless her!"
I think they were the last distinct words I heard at that meal. Iremember mumbling something about the pleasure in store for me, andwhile my tongue pronounced this statement, my conscience denounced me asa liar. It would be no pleasure. An upstart of a boarding-school girl,with her airy ways, her college slang and her ear-piercing laughter,tearing around the house like a young cyclone, having girl friends andboy friends hanging around continually,--the thought was notencouraging, and I groaned in spirit, and puffed away, setting mistyshallops afloat upon the sea of moonlight. And these little shallopsmust have borne away as cargo my fretting and my fears, for presently Ifell into a philosophic mood, and the future looked brighter. One thingwas sure--I could not run away. That would be cowardice, as well as anaffront to hospitality. And did the worthy man snoring in a near-by roomonce know that I thought of leaving because his idol was coming, hewould doubtless hasten my departure by turning loose upon me the pack offox-hounds I had heard clamoring for their supper a few hours before.
And, too, there were five weeks yet before this wonderful being wouldarrive. During this time I would walk, and accustom myself to riding,and when this paragon did come, I would leave her in full and freepossession of the house throughout the day. It was not near so bad as ithad looked at first. By eleven o'clock I felt able to sleep, if notentirely reconciled to the new order of things. "Sufficient unto theday--" I thought, with a sigh, and knocking the ashes from my cold pipeinto the palm of my hand, I threw them over the railing of the porch,and went to bed.
The days passed for me now like a procession of pleasant dreams. Themore I became acquainted with my host and hostess, the more I identifiedmyself with their way of living, and the more I realized that I hadfallen among people of exceedingly gentle blood. They were aristocratic,and perhaps a little too high headed for their near neighbors, and hadbut few callers, and no visitors. The practically limitless farm wasunder the direct general supervision of old Henry Grundy, and he wasconsequently a very busy man, and seldom at home except at meal-times. Isoon learned that the slaves all loved him, for he was slow to anger,and always just. Out of the thirty negroes on the place, I was given ayouth of perhaps eighteen to be my body-servant. He was to black myboots, keep my clothes dusted, hold my stirrup, take care of my horse,and do anything else I wanted him to do. This negro I dubbed Inky, indeference to his pronounced color.
I was allowed to sleep late in the morning,--a privilege for which I wasgrateful. Often I would accompany the master on his tours of inspection,riding a dapple-gray gelding which was placed at my disposal, and whichwas exceedingly well behaved, as became an animal of his good breeding.Then solitary walks became part of my daily routine. Accompanied only byFido, and carrying a walking-stick of stout hickory, I explored thehills and valleys which stretched for miles in every direction.Oftentimes I was gone all day, and the good people whom I had begunalmost to love were very indulgent to me, never complaining when I waslate to a meal, or when my roving spirit kept me out till afternightfall. I had a key to the front door, and was careful to enternoiselessly on these occasions. I had never been back to Springfield,and so had had no opportunity to upbraid Reuben for his treachery. But,indeed, upon rereading his letter, I saw that he had told me the truth,and at the same time had made me the victim of a joke. These people hadno children, and my friend had simply forbore mentioning the adopteddaughter.
Salome,--a beautiful name and an unusual one. I found myself thinkingupon it one afternoon, as I lay stretched upon a bed of moss in one ofthe deepest recesses of the hills. I had never heard it before out ofthe Scriptures. She who wore it ought to be a beautiful girl. "Salome,Salome," I caught myself murmuring, gazing dreamily up through thelace-like young foliage above me to where two fluffy clouds werewandering arm in arm along the pathways of the air. What would she looklike, this Salome? Would she be fair or dark, and would her ways begentle or tomboyish? A sudden realization of the trend of my thoughtsmade my cheeks tingle ever so slightly, and I brought my eyes to bearupon Fido. This ever-restless canine had chased a timid littleground-squirrel into a hole when we first arrived at this spot, and hadsubsequently torn up enough leaves and dirt to fill a moderate-sizegrave in his efforts to dislodge his quarry. He did not know that I waswatching him, and his antics were therefore perfectly natural. He haddug a slanting ditch perhaps a foot deep in the soft loam, and when myeyes fell upon him had stopped for a moment to get his wind. He stoodplanted firmly on his four short legs, his tail vibrating incessantly,like the pendulum of a clock. His muzzle was grimy with soil; his headcocked on one side, and his ears pricked, while his beady little eyesnarrowly watched the hole before him. His lolling tongue was dripping,and he was panting like a lizard. And I thought to myself, if men wouldattack an obstacle like that dumb brute, there would be fewer failuresin life. All at once, and without warning, the pup leaped to the attackonce more, and the way he worked would have done credit to a galleyslave. His shoulders undulated with the ferocity of his movements, anddirt flew in a shower from between his hind legs. Now and again he wouldpause, and thrust his nose as far up in the hole as he could get it. Amoment thus, while the wagging tail still moved, then he would drawback, snort the dirt from his nostrils, and with an eager whine renewhis efforts.
With the deepening shadows came the thought that I was several milesfrom home, so I arose reluctantly, picked up my stick, and, with Fidolimping at my heels, walked slowly back through the enchanted aisles ofNature.
The Saturday night following, a week before her arrival, I heard thestory of Salome.
I was on the old settee after supper, as usual. Here I always came tosmoke my pipe after the evening meal. Somewhat to my surprise, Mr.Grundy came out and sat down beside me. Frequently he and his wife cameout for a short time in the early evening, but this night it was nearlynine o'clock when I heard the old gentleman's heavy step in the hall. Imade room for him when I saw that it was his intention to sit down, andoffered him my tobacco, for I saw that he held a cob pipe in hishands,--another unusual thing. He took my tobacco in silence, and insilence filled his pipe and lit it. I felt that he had something to sayto me, so I waited patiently, and we both puffed away.
"S'lome's comin' a week from to-night," he said, at last. His voice wassofter than I had ever heard it, and a caressing note lurked in it."Seems a long time to us since she went away last September. S'lome'scomin' home," he repeated, as though the very sentence brought joy.
"It's right for me to tell you 'bout her, Stone, since you're to be oneof us for quite a spell. It's a sort o' sad story, but me an' mother'vetried to make her forget the beginning of her life. It may be that youdon't like young girls much, seein' that you've never married, butthere'll be a kind spot in your heart for S'lome when you hear 'bouther. You see, it began away back yonder when I was a young fellow atschool. Bob Summerton was a classmate of mine, and my best friend. Hisone prevailin' weakness was a woman's pretty face. He was a poor fellow,and had no business marryin' when he did. His wife, highly connected,but without any near relations, was killed in a railway accident. Theirlittle girl, who had been born six months before, escaped unhurt. Bobwas a Kentuckian, from the soles of his feet up, and one day, whenS'lome was only three years old, he was shot by a coward for defending awoman's good name. He telegraphed me to come, and I reached h
im in timefor him to consign to my keepin' the child soon to be orphaned again. Itnearly broke my heart, Stone,"--the strong man choked back something inhis throat,--"but even at that tender age the young thing's grief waspitiful. I brought her here, and me and mother--well, we've done what wecould to make her happy--God bless her!"
The last words were in a husky whisper, and I knew that tears which hadstarted from the heart were glistening in the eyes of that grand oldgentleman.
"She's not so big, and she's not so little," he went on, presently, forI knew of nothing to say at this juncture. "Just kind o' medium size,and as sweet as the Lord's blessed sunshine. She ain't ashamed to keepthe house clean, and help mother, either. It's always May-time 'bout theold place when she's here, Stone. She's tender-hearted as a lamb, and'llnuss a chicken with the gapes for half a day. But the horse don't runon this farm that she's afraid to ride. And when me or mother areailin', she'll sit by us night and day--says she's 'fraid to trust anigger with medicine. And she's got our hearts so 't they'd almost stopbeatin' if she told 'em to. She's ridden on a load o' hay many a time,and has gone to the wheat-field to help us with the thrashin'. And she'scomin' home next Saturday, Stone."
He stopped again, and I knew that he was thinking. Presently he arose,and stretched his arms with a yawn.
"You'll like her, Stone, if you're a human. Good-night."
"Good-night," I answered, and his heavy boots thumped across the porchto the hall door.
That night, for the first time in my life, a girl's face crept into mydreams.
The Love Story of Abner Stone Page 7