Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction

by Joel Chandler Harris

  CHAPTER FIVE

  _The Story of Margaret Gaither_

  Gabriel and Cephas started toward their homes, which lay in the samedirection. Instead of going around by road or street, they cut acrossthe fields and woods. Before they had gone very far, they heard arustling, swishing sound in the pine-thicket through which they werepassing, but gave it little attention, both being used to the noisescommon to the forest. In their minds it was either a rabbit or a greyfox scuttling away; or a poree scratching in the bushes, or aground-squirrel running in the underbrush.

  But a moment later, Nan Dorrington, followed by Tasma Tid, burst fromthe pine-thicket, crying, "Oh, you walk so fast, you two!" She waspanting and laughing, and as she stood before the lads, one little handat her throat, and the other vainly trying to control her flying hair, adelicious rosiness illuminating her face, Gabriel knew that he had justbeen doing her a gross injustice. As he walked along the path, followedby his faithful Cephas, he had been mentally comparing her to a youngwoman he had just seen in Mr. Goodlett's hack; and had been saying tohimself that the new-comer was, if possible, more beautiful than Nan.

  But now here was Nan herself in person, and Gabriel's comparisonsappeared to be shabby indeed. With Nan before his eyes, he could seewhat a foolish thing it was to compare her with any one in this worldexcept herself. There was a flavour of wildness in her beauty that gaveit infinite charm and variety. It was a wildness that is wedded to graceand vivacity, such as we see embodied in the form and gestures of thewood-dove, or the partridge, or the flying squirrel, when it is un-awedby the presence of man. The flash of her dark brown eyes, her tawny hairblowing free, and her lithe figure, with the dark green pines for abackground, completed the most charming picture it is possible for themind to conceive. All that Gabriel was conscious of, beyond a dimsurprise that Nan should be here--the old Nan that he used to know--wasa sort of dawning thrill of ecstasy as he contemplated her. He stoodstaring at her with his mouth open.

  "Why do you look at me like that, Gabriel?" she cried; "I am no ghost.And why do you walk so fast? I have been running after you as hard as Ican. And, wasn't that Francis Bethune in the waggon with Mr. Sanders?"

  "Did you run hard just to ask me that? Mrs. Absalom could have saved youall this trouble." The mention of Bethune's name had brought Gabriel toearth, and to commonplace thoughts again. "Yes, that was Master Bethune,and he has grown to be a very handsome young man."

  "Oh, he was always good-looking," said Nan lightly. "Where are you andCephas going?"

  "Straight home," replied Gabriel.

  "Well, I'm going there, too. I heard Nonny" (this was Mrs. Absalom) "saythat Margaret Gaither has come home again, and then I remembered thatyour grandmother promised to tell me a story about her some day. I'mgoing to tease her to-day until she tells it."

  "And didn't Mrs. Absalom tell you that Bethune was in the waggon withMr. Sanders?" Gabriel inquired, in some astonishment.

  "Oh, Gabriel! you are so--" Nan paused as if hunting for the right termor word. Evidently she didn't find it, for she turned to Gabriel with awinning smile, and asked what Mr. Sanders had had to say. "I'm so gladhe's come I don't know what to do. I wouldn't live in a town that didn'thave its Mr. Sanders," she declared.

  "Well, about the first thing he said was to remind Bethune of the timewhen you whacked him over the head with a cudgel."

  "And what did Master Francis say to that?" inquired Nan, with a laugh.

  "Why, what could he say? He simply turned red. Now, if it had been me,I----"

  The path was so narrow, that Nan, the two lads, and Tasma Tid werewalking in Indian file. Nan stopped so suddenly and unexpectedly thatGabriel fell against her. As he did so, she turned and seized him by thearm, and emphasised her words by shaking him gently as each was uttered."Now--Gabriel--don't--say--disagreeable--things!"

  What she meant he had not the least idea, and it was not the first northe last time that his wit lacked the nimbleness to follow and catch hermeaning.

  "Disagreeable!" he exclaimed. "Why, I was simply going to say that if Ihad been in Bethune's shoes to-day, I should have declared that you didthe proper thing."

  Nan dropped a low curtsey, saying, "Oh, thank you, sir--what was thegentleman's name, Cephas--the gentleman who was such a cavalier?"

  "Was he a Frenchman?" asked Cephas.

  "Oh, Cephas! you should be ashamed. You have as little learning as I."With that she turned and went along the path at such a rapid pace thatit was as much as the lads could do to keep up with her, withoutbreaking into an undignified trot.

  Nan went home with Gabriel; was there before him indeed, for he paused amoment to say something to Cephas. She ran along the walk, took thesteps two at a time, and as she ran skipping along the hallway, shecried out: "Grandmother Lumsden! where are you? Oh, what do you think?Margaret Gaither has come home!" When Gabriel entered the room, Nan hadfetched a footstool, and was already sitting at Mrs. Lumsden's feet,holding one of the old lady's frail, but beautiful white hands.

  Here was another picture, the beauty of which dawned on Gabriellater--youth and innocence sitting at the feet of sweet and wholesomeold age. The lad was always proud of his grandmother, but never more sothan at that moment when her beauty and refinement were brought intohigh relief by her attitude toward Nan Dorrington. Gabriel was veryhappy to be near those two. Not for a weary time had Nan been sofriendly and familiar as she was now, and he felt a kind of exaltation.

  "Margaret Gaither! Margaret Gaither!" Gabriel's grandmother repeated thename as if trying to summon up some memory of the past. "Poor girl! Didyou see her, Gabriel? And how did she look?" With a boy's bluntness, hedescribed her physical condition, exaggerating, perhaps, its worstfeatures, for these had made a deep impression on him. "Oh, I'm so sorryfor her! and she has a daughter!" said Mrs. Lumsden softly. "I will callon them as soon as possible. And then if poor Margaret is unable toreturn the visit, the daughter will come. And you must be here, Nan;Gabriel will fetch you. And you, Gabriel--for once you must be politeand agreeable. Candace shall brush up your best suit, and if it is to bemended, I will mend it."

  Nan and Gabriel laughed at this. Both knew that this famous best suitwould not reach to the lad's ankles, and that the sleeves of the coatwould end a little way below the elbow.

  "I can't imagine what you are laughing at," said Mrs. Lumsden, with afaint smile. "I am sure the suit is a very respectable one, especiallywhen you have none better."

  "No, Grandmother Lumsden; Gabriel will have to take his tea in thekitchen with Aunt Candace."

  However, the affair never came off. The dear old lady, in whom thesocial instinct was so strong, had no opportunity to send the invitationuntil long afterward. Nan was compelled to beg very hard for the storyof Margaret Gaither. It was never the habit of Gabriel's grandmother toindulge in idle gossip; she could always find some excuse for the faultsof those who were unfortunate; but Nan had the art of persuasion at hertongue's end. Whether it was this fact or the fact that Mrs. Lumsdenbelieved that the story carried a moral that Nan would do well todigest, it would be impossible to say. At any rate, the youngsters soonhad their desire. The story will hardly bear retelling; it can becompressed into a dozen lines, and be made as uninteresting as anewspaper paragraph; but, as told by Gabriel's grandmother, it had thecharm which sympathy and pity never fail to impart to a narrative. Whenit came to an end, Nan was almost in tears, though she could never tellwhy.

  "It happened, Nan, before you and Gabriel were born," said Mrs. Lumsden."Margaret Gaither was one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen,and at that time Pulaski Tomlin was one of the handsomest young men inall this region. Naturally these two were drawn together. They were inlove with each other from the first, and, finally, a day was set for thewedding. They were to have been married in November, but one night inOctober, the Tomlin Place was found to be on fire. The flames had madeconsiderable headway before they were discovered, and, to me, it was amost horrible sight. Yet, horrible as it was, there was a fas
cinationabout it. The sweeping roar of the flames attracted me and held mespellbound, but I hope I shall never be under such a spell again.

  "Well, it was impossible to save the house, and no one attempted such apreposterous feat. It was all that the neighbours could do to preventthe spread of the flames to the nearby houses. Some of the furniture wassaved, but the house was left to burn. All of a sudden, FannyTomlin----"

  "You mean Aunt Fanny?" interrupted Nan.

  "Yes, my dear. All of a sudden Fanny Tomlin remembered that her mother'sportrait had been left hanging on the wall. Without a word to any oneshe ran into the house. How she ever passed through the door safely, Inever could understand, for every instant, it seemed to me, greattongues and sheets of flame were darting across it and lapping andlicking inward, as if trying to force an entrance. You may be sure thatwe who were looking on, helpless, held our breaths when Fanny Tomlindisappeared through the doorway. Pulaski Tomlin was not a witness tothis performance, but he was quickly informed of it; and then he ranthis way and that, like one distraught. Twice he called her name, andhis voice must have been heard above the roar of the flames, forpresently she appeared at an upper window, and cried out, 'What is it,brother?' 'Come down! Come out!' he shouted. 'I'm afraid I can't,' sheanswered; and then she waved her hand and disappeared, after tryingvainly to close the blinds.

  "But no sooner had Pulaski Tomlin caught a glimpse of his sister, andheard her voice, than he lowered his head like an angry bull, and rushedthrough the flames that now had possession of the door. I, for one,never expected to see him again; and I stood there frightened,horrified, fascinated, utterly helpless. Oh, when you go through a triallike that, my dear," said Mrs. Lumsden, stroking Nan's hair gently, "youwill realise how small and weak and contemptible human beings are whenthey are engaged in a contest with the elements. There we stood,helpless and horror-stricken, with two of our friends in the burninghouse, which was now almost completely covered with the roaring flames.What thoughts I had I could never tell you, but I wondered afterwardthat I had not become suddenly grey.

  "We waited an age, it seemed to me. Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale,who happened to be here at the time, was walking about wringing hishands and crying like a child. Up to that moment, I had thought him tobe a hard and cruel man, but we can never judge others, not even ourclosest acquaintances, until we see them put to the test. Suddenly, Iheard Major Perdue cry, 'Ah!' and saw him leap forward as a wild animalleaps.

  "Through the doorway, which was now entirely covered with a roaringflame, a blurred and smoking figure had rushed--a bulky, shapelessfigure, it seemed--and then it collapsed and fell, and lay in the midstof the smoke, almost within reach of the flames. But Major Perdue wasthere in an instant, and he dragged the shapeless mass away from thewithering heat and stifling smoke. After this, he had more assistancethan was necessary or desirable.

  "'Stand back!' he cried; and his voice had in it the note that men neverfail to obey. 'Stand back there! Where is Dorrington? Why isn't hehere?' Your father, my dear, had gone into the country to see a patient.He was on his way home when he saw the red reflection of the flames inthe sky, and he hastened as rapidly as his horse could go. He arrivedjust in the nick of time. He heard his name called as he drove up, andwas prompt to answer. 'Make way there!' commanded Major Perdue; 'makeway for Dorrington. And you ladies go home! There's nothing you can dohere.' Then I heard Fanny Tomlin call my name, and Major Perdue repeatedin a ringing voice, 'Lucy Lumsden is wanted here!'

  "I don't know how it was, but every command given by Major Perdue wasobeyed promptly. The crowd dispersed at once, with the exception of twoor three, who were detailed to watch the few valuables that had beensaved, and a few men who lingered to see if they could be of anyservice.

  "Pulaski Tomlin had been kinder to his sister than to himself. Only thehem of her dress was scorched. It may be absurd to say so, but that wasthe first thing I noticed; and, in fact, that was all the injury she hadsuffered. Her brother had found her unconscious on a bed, and he simplyrolled her in the quilts and blankets, and brought her downstairs, andout through the smoke and flame to the point where he fell. Fanny hasnot so much as a scar to show. But you can look at her brother's faceand see what he suffered. When they lifted him into your father's buggy,his outer garments literally crumbled beneath the touch, and one wholeside of his face was raw and bleeding.

  "But he never thought of himself, though the agony he endured must havebeen awful. His first word was about his sister: 'Is Fanny hurt?' Andwhen he was told that she was unharmed, he closed his eyes, saying,'Don't worry about me.' We brought him here--it was Fanny's wish--and bythe time he had been placed in bed, the muscles of his mouth were drawnas you see them now. There was nothing to do but to apply cold water,and this was done for the most part by Major Perdue, though both Fannyand I were anxious to relieve him. I never saw a man so devoted in hisattentions. He was absolutely tireless; and I was so struck with histender solicitude that I felt obliged to make to him what was at once aconfession and an apology. 'I once thought, Major Perdue, that you werea hard and cruel man,' said I, 'but I'll never think so again.'

  "'But why did you think so in the first place?' he asked.

  "'Well, I had heard of several of your shooting scrapes,' I replied.

  "He regarded me with a smile. 'There are two sides to everything,especially a row,' he said. 'I made up my mind when a boy thatturn-about is fair play. When I insult a man, I'm prepared to take theconsequences; yet I never insulted a man in my life. The man thatinsults me must pay for it. Women may wipe their feet on me, andchildren may spit on me; but no man shall insult me, not by so much asthe lift of an eyelash, or the twitch of an upper-lip. Pulaski here hasdone me many a favour, some that he tried to hide, and I'd never getthrough paying him if I were to nurse him night and day for the rest ofmy natural life. In some things, Ma'am, you'll find me almost as good asa dog.'

  "I must have given him a curious stare," continued Mrs. Lumsden, "for helaughed softly, and remarked, 'If you'll think it over, Ma'am, you'llfind that a dog has some mighty fine qualities.' And it is true."

  "But what about Margaret Gaither?" inquired Nan, who was determined thatthe love-story should not be lost in a wilderness of trifles--as shejudged them to be.

  "Poor Margaret!" murmured Gabriel's grandmother. "I declare! I hadalmost forgotten her. Well, bright and early the next morning, Margaretcame and asked to see Pulaski Tomlin. I left her in the parlour, andcarried her request to the sick-room.

  "'Brother,' said Fanny, 'Margaret is here, and wants to see you. Shallshe come in?'

  "I saw Pulaski clench his hands; his bosom heaved and his lips quivered.'Not for the world!' he exclaimed; 'oh, not for the world!'

  "'I can't tell her that,' said I. 'Nor I,' sobbed Fanny, covering herface with her hands. 'Oh, it will kill her!'

  "Major Perdue turned to me, his eyes wet. 'Do you know why he doesn'twant her to see him?' I could only give an affirmative nod. 'Do youknow, Fanny?' She could only say, 'Yes, yes!' between her sobs. 'It isfor her sake alone; we all see that,' declared Major Perdue. 'Now,then,' he went on, touching me on the arm, 'I want you to see how hard ahard man can be. Show me where the poor child is.'

  "I led him to the parlour door. He stood aside for me to enter first,but I shook my head and leaned against the door for support. 'This isMiss Gaither?' he said, as he entered alone. 'My name is Perdue--TomlinPerdue. We are very sorry, but no one is permitted to see Pulaski,except those who are nursing him.' 'That is what I am here for,' shesaid, 'and no one has a better right. I am to be his wife; we are to bemarried next month.' 'It is not a matter of right, Miss Gaither. Are youprepared to sustain a very severe shock?' 'Why, what--what is thetrouble?' 'Can you not conceive a reason why you should not see himnow--at this time, and for many days to come?' 'I cannot,' she repliedhaughtily. 'That, Miss Gaither, is precisely the reason why you are notto see him now,' said Major Perdue. His tone was at once humble andtender. 'I don't understand you at all,' she excla
imed almost violently.'I tell you I will see him; I'll beat upon the wall; I'll lie across thedoor, and compel you to open it. Oh, why am I treated so and by hisfriends!' She flung herself upon a sofa, weeping wildly; and there Ifound her, when, a moment later, I entered the room in response to agesture from Major Perdue.

  "Whether she glanced up and saw me, or whether she divined my presence,I could never guess," Gabriel's grandmother went on, "but withoutraising her face, she began to speak to me. 'This is your house, MissLucy,' she said--she always called me Miss Lucy--'and why can't I, hisfuture wife, go in and speak to Pulaski; or, at the very least, hold hishand, and help you and Fanny minister to his wants?' I made her noanswer, for I could not trust myself to speak; I simply sat on the edgeof the sofa by her, and stroked her hair, trying in this mute way todemonstrate my sympathy. She seemed to take some comfort from this, andfinally put her request in a different shape. Would I permit her to sitin a chair near the door of the room in which Pulaski lay, until suchtime as she could see him? 'I will give you no trouble whatever,' shesaid. 'I am determined to see him,' she declared; 'he is mine, and I amhis.' I gave a cordial assent to this proposition, carried a comfortablechair and placed it near the door, and there she stationed herself.

  "I went into the room where the others were, and was surprised to seeFanny Tomlin looking so cheerful. Even Major Perdue appeared to berelieved. Fanny asked me a question with her eyes, and I answered italoud. 'She is sitting by the door, and says she will remain there untilshe can see Pulaski.' He beat his hand against the headboard of the bed,his mental agony was so great, and kept murmuring to himself. MajorPerdue turned his back on his friend's writhings, and went to thewindow. Presently he returned to the bedside, his watch in his hand.'Pulaski,' he said, 'if she's there fifteen minutes from now, I shallinvite her in.' Pulaski Tomlin made no reply, and we continued ourministrations in perfect silence.

  "A few minutes later, I had occasion to go into my own room for a stripof linen, and to my utter amazement, the chair I had placed for MargaretGaither was empty. Had she gone for a drink of water, or for a book? Iwent from room to room, calling her name, but she had gone; and I havenever laid eyes on her from that day to this. She went away to Malvernon a visit, and while there eloped with a Louisiana man named Bridalbin,whose reputation was none too savoury, and we never heard of her again.Even her Aunt Polly lost all trace of her."

  "What did Mr. Tomlin say when you told him she was gone?" Nan inquired.

  "We never told him. I think he understood that she was gone almost assoon as she went, for his spiritual faculties are very keen. I rememberon one occasion, and that not so very long ago, when he refused toretire at night, because he had a feeling that he would be called for;and his intuitions were correct. He was summoned to the bedside of oneof his friends in the country, and, as he went along, he carried yourfather with him. Margaret Gaither, such as she was, was the sum and thesubstance of his first and last romance. He suffered, but his sufferinghas made him strong.

  "Yes," Mrs. Lumsden went on, "it has made him strong and great in thehighest sense. Do you know why he is called Neighbour Tomlin? It isbecause he loves his neighbours as he loves himself. There is nosacrifice that he will not make for them. The poorest and meanest personin the world, black or white, can knock at Neighbour Tomlin's door anyhour of the day or night, and obtain food, money or advice, as the casemay be. If his wife or his children are ill, Neighbour Tomlin will getout of bed and go in the cold and rain, and give them the necessaryattention. To me, there never was a more beautiful countenance in theworld than Neighbour Tomlin's poor scarred face. But for that misfortunewe should probably never have known what manner of man he is. TheProvidence that urged Margaret Gaither to fly from this house wasarranging for the succour of many hundreds of unfortunates, and PulaskiTomlin was its instrument."

  "If I had been Margaret Gaither," said Nan, clenching her handstogether, "I never would have left that door. Never! They couldn't havedragged me away. I've never been in love, I hope, but I have feelingsthat tell me what it is, and I never would have gone away."

  "Well, we must not judge others," said Gabriel's grandmother gently."Poor Margaret acted according to her nature. She was vain, and lackedstability, but I really believe that Providence had a hand in the wholematter."

  "I know I'm pretty," remarked Nan, solemnly, "but I'm not vain."

  "Why, Nan!" exclaimed Mrs. Lumsden, laughing; "what put in your head theidea that you are pretty?"

  "I don't mean my own self," explained Nan, "but the other self that Isee in the glass. She and I are very good friends, but sometimes wequarrel. She isn't the one that would have stayed at the door, but myown, own self."

  Mrs. Lumsden looked at the girl closely to see if she was joking, butNan was very serious indeed. "I'm sure I don't understand you," saidGabriel's grandmother.

  "Gabriel does," replied Nan complacently. Gabriel understood wellenough, but he never could have explained it satisfactorily to any onewho was unfamiliar with Nan's way of putting things.

  "Well, you are certainly a pretty girl, Nan," Gabriel's grandmotheradmitted, "and when you and Francis Bethune are married, you will make ahandsome pair."

  "When Francis Bethune and I are married!" exclaimed Nan, giving a swiftside-glance at Gabriel, who pretended to be reading. "Why, what put suchan idea in your head, Grandmother Lumsden?"

  "Why, it is on the cards, my dear. It is what, in my young days, theyused to call the proper caper."

  "Well, when Frank and I are to be married, I'll send you a card ofinvitation so large that you will be unable to get it in the frontdoor." She rose from the footstool, saying, "I must go home; good-bye,everybody; and send me word when you have chocolate cake."

  This was so much like the Nan who had been his comrade for so long thatGabriel felt a little thrill of exultation. A little later he asked hisgrandmother what she meant by saying that it was on the cards for Nan tomarry Bethune.

  "Why, I have an idea that the matter has already been arranged," sheanswered with a knowing smile. "It would be so natural and appropriate.You are too young to appreciate the wisdom of such arrangements,Gabriel, but you will understand it when you are older. Nan is notrelated in any way to the Cloptons, though a great many people think so.Her grandmother was captured by the Creeks when only a year or two old.She was the only survivor of a party of seven which had been ambushed bythe Indians. She was too young to give any information about herself.She could say a few words, and she knew that her name was Rosalind, butthat was all. She was ransomed by General McGillivray, and sent to ShadyDale. Under the circumstances, there was nothing for Raleigh Clopton todo but adopt her. Thus she became Rosalind Clopton. She married BenierOdom when, as well as could be judged, she was more than forty yearsold. Randolph Dorrington married her daughter, who died when Nan wasborn. Marriage, Gabriel, is not what young people think it is; and I dohope that when you take a wife, it will be some one you have known allyour life."

  "I hope so, too," Gabriel responded with great heartiness.