by Kate Chopin
III
A Talk Under the Cedar Tree.
Day by day, Fanny threw off somewhat of the homesickness which hadweighted her at coming. Not by any determined effort of the will, norby any resolve to make the best of things. Outside influences meetinghalf-way the workings of unconscious inward forces, were the agentsthat by degrees were gently ridding her of the acute pressure ofdissatisfaction, which up to the present, she had stolidly bornewithout any personal effort to cast it off.
Therese affected her forcibly. This woman so wholesome, so fair andstrong; so un-American as to be not ashamed to show tenderness andsympathy with eye and lip, moved Fanny like a new and pleasingexperience. When Therese touched her caressingly, or gently strokedher limp hand, she started guiltily, and looked furtively around tomake sure that none had witnessed an exhibition of tenderness thatmade her flush, and the first time found her unresponsive. A secondtime, she awkwardly returned the hand pressure, and later, thesemildly sensuous exchanges prefaced the outpouring of all Fanny's woes,great and small.
"I don't say that I always done what was right, Mrs. Laferm, but Iguess David's told you just what suited him about me. You got toremember there's always two sides to a story."
She had been to the poultry yard with Therese, who had introduced herto its feathery tenants, making her acquainted with stately Brahmasand sleek Plymouth-Rocks and hardy little "Creole chickens"--not muchto look at, but very palatable when converted into _fricassee_.
Returning, they seated themselves on the bench that encircled amassive cedar--spreading and conical. Hector, who had trottedattendance upon them during their visit of inspection, cast himselfheavily down at his mistress' feet and after glancing knowingly upinto her face, looked placidly forth at Sampson, gathering gardengreens on the other side of a low dividing fence.
"You see if David'd always been like he is now, I don't know butthings'd been different. Do you suppose he ever went any wheres withme, or even so much as talked to me when he came home? There wasalways that everlasting newspaper in his pocket, and he'd haul it outthe first thing. Then I used to read the paper too sometimes, and whenI'd go to talk to him about what I read, he'd never even looked at thesame things. Goodness knows what he read in the paper, I never couldfind out; but here'd be the edges all covered over with figuring. Ibelieve it's the only thing he ever thought or dreamt about; thateternal figuring on every bit of paper he could lay hold of, till Iwas tired picking them up all over the house. Belle Worthington usedto say it'd of took an angel to stand him. I mean his throwing papersaround that way. For as far as his never talking went, she couldn'tfind any fault with that; Mr. Worthington was just as bad, if hewasn't worse. But Belle's not like me; I don't believe she'd let poorMr. Worthington talk in the house if he wanted to."
She gradually drifted away from her starting point, and like mostpeople who have usually little to say, became very voluble, when onceshe passed into the humor of talking. Therese let her talk unchecked.It seemed to do her good to chatter about Belle and Lou, and JackDawson, and about her home life, of which she unknowingly made such apitiable picture to her listener.
"I guess David never let on to you about himself," she said moodily,having come back to the sore that rankled: the dread that Therese hadlaid all the blame of the rupture on her shoulders.
"You're mistaken, Mrs. Hosmer. It was a knowledge of his ownshort-comings that prompted your husband to go back and ask yourforgiveness. You must grant, there's nothing in his conduct now thatyou could reproach him with. And," she added, laying her hand gentlyon Fanny's arm, "I know you'll be strong, and do your share in thisreconciliation--do what you can to please him."
Fanny flushed uneasily under Therese's appealing glance.
"I'm willing to do anything that David wants," she replied, "I made upmy mind to that from the start. He's a mighty good husband now, Mrs.Laferm. Don't mind what I said about him. I was afraid you thoughtthat--"
"Never mind," returned Therese kindly, "I know all about it. Don'tworry any farther over what I may think. I believe in you and in him,and I know you'll both be brave and do what's right."
"There isn't anything so very hard for David to do," she said,depressed with a sense of her inadequate strength to do the task whichshe had set herself. "He's got no faults to give up. David never didhave any faults. He's a true, honest man; and I was a coward to saythose things about him."
Melicent and Gregoire were coming across the lawn to join the two, andFanny, seeing them approach, suddenly chilled and wrapt herself aboutin her mantle of reserve.
"I guess I better go," she said, offering to rise, but Therese heldout a detaining hand.
"You don't want to go and sit alone in the cottage; stay here with metill Mr. Hosmer comes back from the mill."
Gregoire's face was a study. Melicent, who did what she wanted withhim, had chosen this afternoon, for some inscrutable reason, to makehim happy. He carried her shawl and parasol; she herself bearing averitable armful of flowers, leaves, red berried sprigs, a tangle ofrichest color. They had been in the woods and she had bedecked himwith garlands and festoons of autumn leaves, till he looked a verySatyr; a character which his flushed, swarthy cheeks, and glitteringanimal eyes did not belie.
They were laughing immoderately, and their whole bearing stillreflected their exuberant gaiety as they joined Therese and Fanny.
"What a 'Mater Dolorosa' Fanny looks!" exclaimed Melicent, throwingherself into a picturesque attitude on the bench beside Therese, andresting her feet on Hector's broad back.
Fanny offered no reply, but to look helplessly resigned; an expressionwhich Melicent knew of old, and which had always the effect ofirritating her. Not now, however, for the curve of the bench aroundthe great cedar tree removed her from the possibility of contemplatingFanny's doleful visage, unless she made an effort to that end, whichshe was certainly not inclined to do.
"No, Gregoire," she said, flinging a rose into his face when he wouldhave seated himself beside her, "go sit by Fanny and do something tomake her laugh; only don't tickle her; David mightn't like it. Andhere's Mrs. Lafirme looking almost as glum. Now, if David would onlyjoin us with that 'pale cast of thought' that he bears about usually,what a merry go round we'd have."
"When Melicent looks at the world laughing, she wants it to laugh backat her," said Therese, reflecting something of the girl's gaiety.
"As in a looking-glass, well isn't that square?" she returned, fallinginto slang, in her recklessness of spirit.
Endeavoring to guard her treasure of flowers from Therese, who waswithout ceremony making a critical selection among them of whatpleased her, Melicent slid around the bench, bringing herself close toGregoire and begging his protection against the Vandalism of his aunt.She looked into his eyes for an instant as though asking him for loveinstead of so slight a favor and he grasped her arm, pressing it tillshe cried out from the pain: which act, on his side, served to driveher again around to Therese.
"Guess what we are going to do to-morrow: you and I and all of us;Gregoire and David and Fanny and everybody?"
"Going to Bedlam along with you?" Therese asked.
"Mrs. Lafirme is in need of a rebuke, which I shall proceed toadminister," thrusting a crumpled handful of rose leaves down the neckof Therese's dress, and laughing joyously in her scuffle to accomplishthe punishment.
"No, madam; I don't go to Bedlam; I drive others there. Ask Gregoirewhat we're going to do. Tell them, Gregoire."
"They ain't much to tell. We'a goin' hoss back ridin'."
"Not me; I can't ride," wailed Fanny.
"You can get up Torpedo for Mrs. Hosmer, can't you, Gregoire?" askedTherese.
"Certainly. W'y you could ride ole Torpedo, Mrs. Hosma, if you novasaw a hoss in yo' life. A li'l chile could manage him."
Fanny turned to Therese for further assurance and found all that shelooked for.
"We'll go up on the hill and see that dear old Morico, and I shalltake along a comb, and comb out that exquisite white hair of
his andthen I shall focus him, seated in his low chair and making one ofthose cute turkey fans."
"Ole Morico ain't goin' to let you try no monkeyshines on him; I tellyou that befo' han'," said Gregoire, rising and coming to Melicent torid him of his sylvan ornamentations, for it was time for him to leavethem. When he turned away, Melicent rose and flung all her flowerywealth into Therese's lap, and following took his arm.
"Where are you going?" asked Therese.
"Going to help Gregoire feed the mules," she called back looking overher shoulder; the sinking sun lighting her handsome mischievous face.
Therese proceeded to arrange the flowers with some regard to gracefulsymmetry; and Fanny did not regain her talkative spirit thatMelicent's coming had put to flight, but sat looking silent andlistlessly into the distance.
As Therese glanced casually up into her face she saw it warmed by asudden faint glow--an unusual animation, and following her gaze, shesaw that Hosmer had returned and was entering the cottage.
"I guess I better be going," said Fanny rising, and this time Thereseno longer detained her.