CHAPTER SIX
_The Passing of Margaret_
The day after the return of Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune from thewar, Gabriel's grandmother had an early caller in the person of MissFanny Tomlin. For a maiden lady, Miss Fanny was very plump andgood-looking. Her hair was grey, and she still wore it in short curls,just as she had worn it when a girl. The style became her well. Theshort curls gave her an air of jauntiness, which was in perfect keepingwith her disposition, and they made a very pretty frame for her rosy,smiling face. Socially, she was the most popular person in the town,with both young and old. A children's party was a dull affair in ShadyDale without Miss Fanny to give it shape and form, to suggest games, andto make it certain that the timid ones should have their fair share ofthe enjoyment. Indeed, the community would have been a very dull one butfor Miss Fanny; in return for which the young people conferred thedistinction of kinship on her by calling her Aunt Fanny. She hadremained single because her youngest brother, Pulaski, was unmarried,and needed some one to take care of him, so she said. But she hadanother brother, Silas Tomlin, who was twice a widower, and who seemedto need some one to take care of him, for he presented a very mean andmiserable appearance.
It chanced that when Miss Fanny called, Gabriel was studying hislessons, using the dining-room table as a desk, and he was able to hearthe conversation that ensued. Miss Fanny stood on no ceremony inentering. The front door was open and she entered without knocking,saying, "If there's nobody at home I'll carry the house away. Where areyou, Lucy?"
"In my room, Fanny; come right in."
"How are you, and how is the high and mighty Gabriel?" Having receivedsatisfactory answers to her friendly inquiries, Miss Fanny plunged atonce into the business that had brought her out so early. "What do youthink, Lucy? Margaret Gaither and her daughter have returned. They areat the Gaither Place, and Miss Polly has just told me that there isn't amouthful to eat in the house--and there is Margaret at the point ofdeath! Why, it is dreadful. Something must be done at once, that'scertain. I wouldn't have bothered you, but you know what thecircumstances are. I don't know what Margaret's feelings are withrespect to me; you know we never were bosom friends. Yet I never reallydisliked her, and now, after all that has happened, I couldn't bear tothink that she was suffering for anything. Likely enough she would beembarrassed if I called and offered assistance. What is to be done?"
"Wouldn't it be best for some one to call--some one who was herfriend?" The cool, level voice of Gabriel's grandmother seemed to clearthe atmosphere. "Whatever is to be done should be done sympathetically.If I could see Polly, there would be no difficulty."
"Well, I saw Miss Polly," said Miss Fanny, "and she told me the wholesituation, and I was on the point of saying that I'd run back home andsend something over, when an upper window was opened, and MargaretGaither's daughter stood there gazing at me--and she's a beauty, Lucy;there's a chance for Gabriel there. Well, you know how deaf Miss Pollyis; if I had said what I wanted to say, that child would have heardevery word, and there was something in her face that held me dumb. MissPolly talked and I nodded my head, and that was all. The old soul musthave thought the cat had my tongue." Miss Fanny laughed uneasily as shemade the last remark.
"If Margaret is ill, she should have attention. I will go there thismorning." This was Mrs. Lumsden's decision.
"I'll send the carriage for you as soon as I can run home," said MissFanny. With that she rose to go, and hustled out of the room, but in thehallway she turned and remarked: "Tell Gabriel that he will have tolengthen his suspenders, now that Nan has put on long dresses."
"Oh, no!" protested Mrs. Lumsden. "We mustn't put any such nonsense inGabriel's head. Nan is for Francis Bethune. If it isn't all arranged itought to be. Why, the land of Dorrington joins the land that Bethunewill fall heir to some day, and it seems natural that the two estatesshould become one." Gabriel's grandmother had old-fashioned ideas aboutmarriage.
"Oh, I see!" replied Miss Fanny with a laugh; "you are so intent onjoining the two estates in wedlock that you take no account of theindividuals. But brother Pulaski says that for many years to come, themore land a man has the poorer he will become."
"Upon my word, I don't see how that can be," responded Mrs. Lumsden.This was the first faint whiff of the new order that had come to thenostrils of the dear old lady.
Miss Fanny went home, and in no long time Neighbour Tomlin's carriagecame to the door. At the last moment, Mrs. Lumsden decided that Gabrielshould go with her. "It may be necessary for you to go on an errand. Ipresume there are servants there, but I don't know whether they are tobe depended on."
So Gabriel helped his grandmother into the carriage, climbed in afterher, and in a very short time they were at the Gaither Place. The youngwoman whom Gabriel had seen in Mr. Goodlett's hack was standing in thedoor, and the little frown on her forehead was more pronounced thanever. She was evidently troubled.
"Good-morning," said Mrs. Lumsden. "I have come to see Margaret. Doesshe receive visitors?"
"My name is Margaret, too," said the young woman, after returning Mrs.Lumsden's salutation, and bowing to Gabriel. "But of course you came tosee my mother. She is upstairs--she would be carried there, though Ibegged her to take one of the lower rooms. She is in the room in whichshe was born."
"I know the way very well," said Mrs. Lumsden. She was for starting upthe stairway, but the young woman detained her by a gesture and turnedto Gabriel.
"Won't you come in?" she inquired. "We are old acquaintances, you know.Your name is Gabriel--wait!--Gabriel Tolliver. Don't you see how well Iknow you? Come, we'll help your grandmother up the stairs." This theydid--the girl with the firm and practised hand of an expert, and Gabrielwith the awkwardness common to young fellows of his age. The young womanled Mrs. Lumsden to her mother's bedside, and presently came back toGabriel.
"We will go down now, if you please," she said. "My mother is veryill--worse than she has ever been--and you can't imagine how lonely Iam. Mother is at home here, while my home, if I have any, is inLouisiana. I suppose you never had any trouble?"
"My mother is dead," he said simply. Margaret reached out her hand andtouched him gently on the arm. It was a gesture of impulsive sympathy.
"What is it?" Gabriel asked, thinking she was calling his attention tosomething she saw or heard.
"Nothing," she said softly. Gabriel understood then, and he could havekicked himself for his stupidity. "Your grandmother is a very beautifulold lady," she remarked after a period of silence.
"She is very good to me," Gabriel replied, at a loss what to say, for healways shrank from praising those near and dear to him. As he satthere, he marvelled at the self-possession of this young woman in themidst of strangers, and with her mother critically ill.
In a little while he heard his grandmother calling him from the head ofthe stairs. "Gabriel, jump in the carriage and fetch Dr. Dorrington atonce. He's at home at this hour."
He did as he was bid, and Nan, who was coming uptown on business of herown, so she said, must needs get in the carriage with her father. Thecombination was more than Gabriel had bargained for. There was a twinklein Dr. Dorrington's eye, as he glanced good-humouredly from one to theother, that Gabriel did not like at all. For some reason or other, whichhe was unable to fathom, the young man was inclined to fight shy ofNan's father; and there was nothing he liked less than to find himselfin Dr. Dorrington's company--more especially when Nan was present, too.Noting the quizzical glances of the physician, Gabriel, like a greatbooby, began to blush, and in another moment, Nan was blushing, too.
"Now, father"--she only called him father when she was angry, ordreadfully in earnest--"Now, father! if you begin your teasing, I'lljump from the carriage. I'll not ride with a grown man who doesn't knowhow to behave in his daughter's company."
Her father laughed gaily. "Teasing? Why, I wasn't thinking of teasing. Iwas just going to remark that the weather is very warm for the season,and then I intended to suggest to Gabriel that, as I propos
ed to getyou a blue parasol, he would do well to get him a red one."
"And why should Gabriel get a parasol?" Nan inquired with a show ofindignation.
"Why, simply to be in the fashion," her father replied. "I remember thetime when you cried for a hat because Gabriel had one; I also rememberthat once when you were wearing a sun-bonnet, Gabriel borrowed one andwore it--and a pretty figure he cut in it."
"I don't see how you can remember it," said Gabriel laughing andblushing.
"Well, I don't see how in the world I could forget it," Dr. Dorringtonresponded in tone so solemn that Nan laughed in spite of heruncomfortable feelings.
"You say Margaret Gaither has a daughter, Gabriel?" said Dr. Dorrington,suddenly growing serious, much to the relief of the others. "And aboutNan's age? Well, you will have to go in with me, daughter, and see her.If her mother is seriously ill, it will be a great comfort to her tohave near her some one of her own age."
Nan made a pretty little mouth at this command, to show that she didn'trelish it, but otherwise she made no objection. Indeed, as matters fellout, it became almost her duty to go in to Margaret Bridalbin; for whenthe carriage reached the house, the young girl was standing at the gate.
"Is this Dr. Dorrington? Well, you are to go up at once. They areconstantly calling to know if you have come. I don't know how my dearestis--I dread to know. Oh, I am sure you will do what you can." There wasan appeal in the girl's voice that went straight to the heart of thephysician.
"You may make your mind easy on that score, my dear," said Dr.Dorrington, laying his hand lightly on her shoulder. There was somethinghelpful and hopeful in the very tone of his voice. "This is my daughterNan," he added.
Margaret turned to Nan, who was lagging behind somewhat shyly. "Will youplease come in?--you and Gabriel Tolliver. It is very lonely here, andeverything is so still and quiet. My name is Margaret Bridalbin," shesaid. She took Nan's hand, and looked into her eyes as if searching forsympathy. And she must have found it there, for she drew Nan toward herand kissed her.
That settled it for Nan. "My name is Nan Dorrington," she said,swallowing a lump in her throat, "and I hope we shall be very goodfriends."
"We are sure to be," replied the other, with emphasis. "I always know atonce."
They went into the dim parlour, and Nan and Margaret sat with their armsentwined around each other. "Gabriel told me yesterday that you were ayoung girl," Nan remarked.
"I am seventeen," replied the other.
"Only seventeen! Why, I am seventeen, and yet I seem to be a mere childby the side of you. You talk and act just as a grown woman does."
"That is because I have never associated with children of my own age. Ihave always been thrown with older persons. And then my mother has beenill a long, long time, and I have been compelled to do a great deal ofthinking. I know of nothing more disagreeable than to have to think. Doyou dislike poor folks?"
"No, I don't," replied Nan, snuggling up to Margaret. "Some of my verybestest friends are poor."
Margaret smiled at the childish adjective, and placed her cheek againstNan's for a moment. "I'm glad you don't dislike poverty," she said, "forwe are very poor."
"When it comes to that," Nan responded, "everybody around here ispoor--everybody except Grandfather Clopton and Mr. Tomlin. They havemoney, but I don't know where they get it. Nonny says that some folkshave only to dream of money, and when they wake in the morning they findit under their pillows."
Dr. Dorrington came downstairs at this moment. "Your mother is very muchbetter than she was awhile ago," he said to Margaret. "She never shouldhave made so long a journey. She has wasted in that way strength enoughto have kept her alive for six months."
"I begged and implored her not to undertake it," the daughter explained,"but nothing would move her. Even when she needed nourishing food, sherefused to buy it; she was saving it to bring her home."
"Well, she is here, now, and we'll do the best we can. Gabriel, will yourun over, and ask Fanny Tomlin to come? And if Neighbour Tomlin is theretell him I want to see him on some important business."
It was very clear to Gabriel from all this that there was small hopefor the poor lady above. She might be better than she was when thedoctor arrived, but there was no ray of hope to be gathered from Dr.Dorrington's countenance.
Pulaski Tomlin and his sister responded to the summons at once; and withGabriel's grandmother holding her hand, the poor lady had an interviewwith Pulaski Tomlin. But she never saw his face nor he hers. The largescreen was carried upstairs from the dining-room, and placed in front ofthe bed; and near the door a chair was placed for Pulaski Tomlin. It wasthe heart's desire of the dying lady that Neighbour Tomlin should becomethe guardian of her daughter. He was deeply affected when told of herwishes, but before consenting to accept the responsibility, asked to seethe daughter, and went to the parlour, where she was sitting with Nanand Gabriel. When he came in Nan ran and kissed him as she never failedto do, for, though his face on one side was so scarred and drawn thatthe sight of it sometimes shocked strangers, those who knew him well,found his wounded countenance singularly attractive.
"This is Margaret," he said, taking the girl's hand. "Come into thelight, my dear, where you may see me as I am. Your mother has expresseda wish that I should become your guardian. As an old and very dearfriend of mine, she has the right to make the request. I am willing andmore than willing to meet her wishes, but first I must have yourconsent."
They went into the hallway, which was flooded with light. "Are you theMr. Tomlin of whom I have heard my mother speak?" Margaret asked,fixing her clear eyes on his face; and when he had answered in theaffirmative--"I wonder that she asked you, after what she has told me.She certainly has no claims on you."
"Ah, my dear, that is where you are wrong," he insisted. "I feel thatevery one in this world has claims on me, especially those who were myfriends in old times. It is I who made a mistake, and not your mother;and I should be glad to rectify that mistake now, as far as I can, bycarrying out her wishes. You know, of course, that she is very ill; willyou go up and speak with her?"
"No, not now; not when there are so many strangers there," Margaretreplied, and stood looking at him with almost childish wonder.
At this moment, Nan, who knew by heart all the little tricks offriendship and affection, left Margaret, and took her stand by NeighbourTomlin's side. It was an indorsement that the other could not withstand.She followed Nan, and said very firmly and earnestly, "It shall be as mymother wishes."
"I hope you will never have cause to regret it," remarked Pulaski Tomlinsolemnly.
"She never will," Nan declared emphatically, as Pulaski Tomlin turned togo upstairs.
He went up very slowly, as if lost in thought. He went to the room andstood leaning against the framework of the door. "Pulaski is here," saidMiss Fanny, who had been waiting to announce his return.
"You remember, Pulaski," the invalid began, "that once when you wereill, you would not permit me to see you. I was so ignorant that I wasangry; yes, and bitter; my vanity was wounded. And I was ignorant andbitter for many years. I never knew until eighteen months ago why I wasnot permitted to see you. I knew it one day, after I had been ill a longtime. I looked in the mirror and saw my wasted face and hollow eyes. Iknew then, and if I had known at first, Pulaski, everything would havebeen so different. I have come all this terrible journey to ask you totake my daughter and care for her. It is my last wish that you should beher guardian and protector. Is she in the room? Can she hear what I amabout to say?"
"No, Margaret," replied Pulaski Tomlin, in a voice that was tremulousand husky. "She is downstairs; I have just seen her."
"Well, she has no father according to my way of thinking," MargaretBridalbin went on. "Her father is a deserter from the Confederate army.She doesn't know that; I tried to tell her, but my heart failed me.Neither does she know that I have been divorced from him. These thingsyou can tell her when the occasion arises. If I had told her, it wouldhave been like ac
cusing myself. I was responsible--I felt it and feelit--and I simply could not tell her."
"I shall try to carry out your wishes, Margaret," said Pulaski Tomlin;"I have seen your daughter, as Fanny suggested, and she has no objectionto the arrangement. I shall do all that you desire. She shall be to me amost sacred charge."
"If you knew how happy you are making me, Pulaski--Oh, I amgrateful--grateful!"
"There should be no talk of gratitude between you and me, Margaret."
At a signal from Pulaski Tomlin, Judge Odom cleared his throat, and readthe document that he had drawn up, and his strong, business-like voicewent far toward relieving the strain that had been put on those whoheard the conversation between the dying woman and the man who hadformerly been her lover. Everything was arranged as she desired, everywish she expressed had been carried out; and then, as if there wasnothing else to be done, the poor lady closed her eyes with a sigh, andopened them no more in this world. It seemed that nothing had sustainedher but the hope of placing her daughter in charge of Pulaski Tomlin.
Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction Page 7