Chapter _Three_
The glimmering lantern which the serving-maid Betty carried seemed like ahuge firefly come back to a land of blooms. Sometimes in dim alleyways itcaught in her flapping garments, and her two mistresses were forced tocling together until they reached the next patch of moonlight. When theirhalf-tasted dinner was finished, and the silver counted and locked in thecherry cabinet, Georgina commanded her sister to step over with her to themansion. Jonathan never permitted the family vehicle to be brought outwhen the world was not looking, and his womenkind were used to trampingthrough the darkness. Julie was reluctant to go at first, but the other'sanger flamed so high she could not help catching some of the sparks.
"Would you allow your niece to ruin her life by marrying a man who gainshis livelihood playing a musical instrument? Methinks you have a fondnessfor hornpipers and such. There was Signor Succhi, our dancing-master, Irecollect"--nodding her head--"he used to call you 'littlepeach-blossom'--his little peach-blossom!"
Julie smiled at Georgina's latest feat of memory; then she turned aboutand gazed into the dying embers. For a moment she stood beside amerry-eyed youth who dared her to prick the signor's silken calves. Did hereally perfect their symmetry with cotton as was said, she wondered? Alas,that she was born timorous.
"Are your wits leaving you, Jerusalem?" continued the other--"you who wearAunt Jane's hair locket and have been for years an ornament in the highestsphere of this city--now being ruined by Trentonians and other foreigners.Where is your boasted allegiance to those of your family who have gonebefore you?"
Threatened and cajoled by turns Miss Julie was led into the night. "TheSnograss woman may have lied," came the consoling thought. She cheeredherself with it hurrying through the snow.
Up Church Street they stumbled past huts and houses. Warm windows beckonedto them. Georgina had forgotten the mittens for her nieces. The scene atthe Snograss House was uppermost in her mind. "What a sly minx Patricia isto have kept the disgraceful affair from us so long," she was thinking."Could that skulking Juma have helped her? He knew enough to bamboozleone. There was a report that old Roberta Johnstone even read him novels."The boisterous wind, tossing the budding lilac branches about the statuesin the Knickerbocker garden which the girl in the window-seat waswatching, came shrieking out of unexpected openings and buffeted her auntsin the face.
Now they were entering the narrow passage that opened into Vesey Street.The tavern lights twinkled beyond, but drear and lonely the artery forcut-throats appeared.
Georgina, brave and intrepid, was still nursing her wrath when a mist camebefore her eyes. "I see! I feel queer!" she cried. Her companions wereshaking like autumn leaves. "Oh, don't pause, sister!" squeaked terrifiedJulie, "here's where that picaroon in the black mask was wont to hide. ADick Turpin may be concealed yonder!"
"Hist!" called Georgina, as if speaking to some vermin of the night. Ashadowy mocking face was rising up before her. She began to tremble--wherehad she seen it? Yes, 'twas the face of the ancestress whose portraitJonathan took down from the line of Knickerbockers in the parlor. "Mynerves," she gasped. "Come, let us haste, you trembling fools!" Once inthe driveway to the house she denied her fright. Betty was scolded forstumbling over a brier-bush. When the long flight of steps was reached,she rushed at them boldly. "Knock, Jerusalem," she commanded.
The little woman tried to sound the clapper, then fell back exhausted.Georgina, enraged, seized it and thumped violently upon the plate. Thesounds reverberated through the night, clashing against the bell-notes andthe sound of the swaying elms.
Jonathan and his daughters sprang from their seats. The Santa Cruzinvoices slipped to the floor and fluttered after the wool balls likemerchants aspiring to new possessions. What cared the horn of plenty onthe door for the profits of the Fleet Sally? It had watched the ebb andflow of lordlier fortunes. "That ear-splitting bell hubbub--and nowvisitors," said the master, advancing to his offspring as if they were thecause of this new annoyance.
Juma, already half-drunk with dreams, rubbed his dazed head and hastenedtoward the entry. Was Toussaint calling him? Did the chair of Marie du Bucde Marcinelle, the Elizabethtown beauty, pause before the hair-dresser'ssign? Then time and place came back. Realizing that he was watched, hedrew the great bolt with a show of strength, and in bounded the gale-blownhumanity.
"You?" queried the head of the Knickerbockers. That was the only greetinghe gave his nearest relations on Easter eve. He glanced at Julie to seewhether she secreted any packages about her person.
Georgina, entering the room, her face stern and white, said, eyeing him,"Prepare yourself for a shock."
He returned the challenge.
Had she been tampering with her five-per-cents for Peruvian investments?Was it the old plaint--Jerusalem's frivolity? Why did the woman gaze athim so mournfully?
"Prepare yourself," she continued, her voice rising to a shriek."Patricia--your Patricia--has disgraced us!"
The girl peering from the landing heard her name called. Her secret wasknown to the world and would soon be an implement of torture. The arbutusfell from her bodice unheeded. She could not meet that cruel group below!
"Richard," sighed the stray gusts of wind on the staircase; "Richard"chimed the patient clock. She crept closer to the baluster railing. Somemysterious force was guiding--impelling her onward. Out of the shadowsflashed a face. Like a smile it vanished. She ran to the steps. For amoment she stood silent, gaining courage to descend.
* * * * *
At the very moment when she had glanced back tremblingly for a partingbenediction from the stars, a figure wrapped in a great-coat was hurryingout of the Sheridan garden. It was Patricia's lover. The youth often cameto gaze at her home after sleep locked all the doors of the world but thedream door for which he had never yet found a key. Then the daytime'sbarriers were broken and she was his alone. Under the Knickerbockerelm-trees he would stand, sometimes, a wild, impassioned troubadour,aflame with songs of love for his imprisoned mate. Again she came to him avision pure and ethereal and he folded her to his heart in memory of oneperfect Junetime day--while multitudes of roses shed their fragrant petalsand birds trilled a divine chorus. To-night, with the wondrous Easterpeace upon him, she seemed to walk by his side. Those bell-notes driftingon the air were the music of their lives. Hand in hand they floated on theflow of the darkness. Through the days--and the years. Through thesprings--and the summers. Always together! Little forms clutched theirknees. Carking care crept out of black coverts. Death beckoned to them inthe distance--still, there was the scent of Junetime roses. Ah, God! thoseroses of love, they were theirs for all eternity!
As he neared Knickerbocker Mansion his mood changed. The bells were dyingaway again. Old Jenkins up in the steeple above the lights of the drowsycity was letting his metal children rest. Their task would soon be over,for the faithful moss-hung clock already pointed to the nightcap hour. Therushes in the poorer regions near the waste lands were flickeringout--only the gentry street was still aglow.
A flock of snow-sparrows caught by the gale dashed past the youth,chattering bird imprecations. Beyond, in the moonlight, loomed Herdwelling-place. Coldly white and dreary it looked. Everything about it wasmute and unaware of the joyous night. Did Juma keep his promise and giveher the arbutus? A longing thrilled him to know her thoughts at this hour.Were they of him? He hastened into the carriage-path, following thefootprints made by the trio from Goby House. The leaden statues leered athim in the spaces between the evergreens. Bare shrubs sighed their gustydirges at his heels.
At the lordly flight of steps he paused and hesitated. Then her pleadingvoice seemed to rise on the wind. A strange intuition swayed him. Thegreat door of the mansion was moving, opening inward. He asked himself ifhe were going stark mad, as he crept to it softly, like a thief.
A cry met his ears, and he staggered back--"I love him! I shall love himalways!" came the words.
"Patricia," he whispered breathlessly.
Before him was the dismal length of the hall that he had never hoped toenter. Slowly he reeled forward.
* * * * *
While her lover was coming to her through the night, the girl wasdescending the staircase. At the bottom she paused and remained verystill. From the room beyond an army of candle rays was slipping underneaththe green sarcenet curtain and capering gnome-like about her feet. Theywere waiting for her in there! A prowling rat scampered down the darkpassage. In another moment she would stand before her indignant family.The curtain shifted and shadows chased away the light. Behind the awfulthing were their watchful eyes. She began to tremble and stretch out herhands imploringly at the space before it. The courage that had brought herso near to the chamber of
The ghosts of their ancestors Page 6