The Sins of the Father: A Romance of the South

by Thomas Dixon

  CHAPTER VII

  THE IRONY OF FATE

  His political battle won, Norton turned his face homeward for a struggle inwhich victory would not come so easily. He had made up his mind that Cleoshould not remain under his roof another day. How much she really knew orunderstood of the events of the night he could only guess. He was sure shehad heard enough of the plans of his men to make a dangerous witnessagainst him if she should see fit to betray the facts to his enemies.

  Yet he was morally certain that he could trust her with this secret. Whathe could not and would not do was to imperil his own life and character bya daily intimate association with this willful, impudent, smiling younganimal.

  His one fear was the wish of his wife to keep her. In her illness she haddeveloped a tyranny of love that brooked no interference with her whims. Hehad petted and spoiled her until it was well-nigh impossible to change thesituation. The fear of her death was the sword that forever hung over hishead.

  "Sitting astride her back, laughing his loudest."]

  He hoped that the girl was lying when she said his wife liked her. Yet itwas not improbable. Her mind was still a child's. She could not think evilof any one. She loved the young and she loved grace and beauty wherever shesaw it. She loved a beautiful cat, a beautiful dog, and always had takenpride in a handsome servant. It would be just like her to take a fancy toCleo that no argument could shake. He dreaded to put the thing to anissue--but it had to be done. It was out of the question to tell her thereal truth.

  His heart sank within him as he entered his wife's room. Mammy had gone tobed suffering with a chill. The doctors had hinted that she was sufferingfrom an incurable ailment and that her days were numbered. Her death mightoccur at any time.

  Cleo was lying flat on a rug, the baby was sitting astride of her back,laughing his loudest at the funny contortions of her lithe figure. Shewould stop every now and then, turn her own laughing eyes on him and hewould scream with joy.

  The little mother was sitting on the floor like a child and laughing at thescene. In a flash he realized that Cleo had made herself, in the first fewdays she had been in his house, its dominant spirit.

  He paused in the doorway sobered by the realization.

  The supple young form on the floor slowly writhed on her back withoutdisturbing the baby's sturdy hold, his little legs clasping her body tight.She drew his laughing face to her shoulder, smothering his laughter withkisses, and suddenly sprang to her feet, the baby astride her neck, andbegan galloping around the room.

  "W'oa! January, w'oa, sir!" she cried, galloping slowly at first and thenprancing like a playful horse.

  Her cheeks were flushed, eyes sparkling and red hair flying in waves offiery beauty over her exquisite shoulders, every change of attitude a newpicture of graceful abandon, every movement of her body a throb of savagemusic from some strange seductive orchestra hidden in the deep woods!

  Its notes slowly stole over the senses of the man with such alluring power,that in spite of his annoyance he began to smile.

  The girl stopped, placed the child on the floor, ran to the corner of theroom, dropped on all fours and started slowly toward him, her voiceimitating the deep growl of a bear.

  "Now the bears are going to get him!--Boo-oo-oo."

  The baby screamed with delight. The graceful young she-bear capered aroundher victim from side to side, smelling his hands and jumping back,approaching and retreating, growling and pawing the floor, while with eachmovement the child shouted a new note of joy.

  The man, watching, wondered if this marvelous creamy yellow animal couldget into an ungraceful position.

  The keen eyes of the young she-bear saw the boy had worn himself out withlaughter and slowly approached her victim, tumbled his happy flushed littleform over on the rug and devoured him with kisses.

  "Don't, Cleo--that's enough now!" the little mother cried, through hertears of laughter.

  "Yessum--yessum--I'm just eatin' him up now--I'm done--and he'll be asleepin two minutes."

  She sprang to her feet, crushing the little form tenderly against her warm,young bosom, and walked past the man smiling into his face a look oftriumph. The sombre eyes answered with a smile in spite of himself.

  Could any man with red blood in his veins fight successfully a force likethat? He heard the growl of the Beast within as he stood watching thescene. The sight of the frail little face of his invalid wife brought himup against the ugly fact with a sharp pain.

  Yet the moment he tried to broach the subject of discharging Cleo, hehesitated, stammered and was silent. At last he braced himself withdetermination for the task. It was disagreeable, but it had to be done. Thesooner the better.

  "You like this girl, my dear?" he said softly.

  "She's the most wonderful nurse I ever saw--the baby's simply crazy abouther!"

  "Yes, I see," he said soberly.

  "It's a perfectly marvellous piece of luck that she came the day she did.Mammy was ready to drop. She's been like a fairy in the nursery from themoment she entered. The kiddy has done nothing but laugh and shriek withdelight."

  "And you like her personally?"

  "I've just fallen in love with her! She's so strong and young andbeautiful. She picks me up, laughing like a child, and carries me into thebathroom, carries me back and tucks me in bed as easily as she does thebaby."

  "I'm sorry, my dear," he interrupted with a firm, hard note in his voice.

  "Sorry--for what?" the blue eyes opened with astonishment.

  "Because I don't like her, and her presence here may be very dangerous justnow----"

  "Dangerous--what on earth can you mean?"

  "To begin with that she's a negress----"

  "So's mammy--so's the cook--the man--every servant we've ever had--or willhave----"

  "I'm not so sure of the last," the husband broke in with a frown.

  "What's dangerous about the girl, I'd like to know?" his wife demanded.

  "I said, to begin with, she's a negress. That's perhaps the leastobjectionable thing about her as a servant. But she has bad blood in her onher father's side. Old Peeler's as contemptible a scoundrel as I know inthe county----"

  "The girl don't like him--that's why she left home."

  "Did she tell you that?" he asked quizzically.

  "Yes, and I'm sorry for her. She wants a good home among decent whitepeople and I'm not going to give her up. I don't care what you say."

  The husband ignored the finality of this decision and went on with hisargument as though she had not spoken.

  "Old Peeler is not only a low white scoundrel who would marry this girl'smulatto mother if he dared, but he is trying to break into politics as anegro champion. He denies it, but he is a henchman of the Governor. I'm ina fight with this man to the death. There's not room for us both in thestate----"

  "And you think this laughing child cares anything about the Governor or hisdirty politics? Such a thing has never entered her head."

  "I'm not sure of that."

  "You're crazy, Dan."

  "But I'm not so crazy, my dear, that I can't see that this girl's presencein our house is dangerous. She already knows too much about myaffairs--enough, in fact, to endanger my life if she should turn traitor."

  "But she won't tell, I tell you--she's loyal--I'd trust her with my life,or yours, or the baby's, without hesitation. She proved her loyalty to meand to you last night."

  "Yes, and that's just why she's so dangerous." He spoke slowly, as iftalking to himself. "You can't understand, dear, I am entering now the lastphase of a desperate struggle with the little Scalawag who sits in theGovernor's chair for the mastery of this state and its life. The next twoweeks and this election will decide whether white civilization shall liveor a permanent negroid mongrel government, after the pattern of Haiti andSan Domingo, shall be established. If we submit, we are not worth saving.We ought to die and our civilization with us! We are not going to submit,we are not going to die, we are going to win. I want you to help m
e now bygetting rid of this girl."

  "I won't give her up. There's no sense in it. A man who fought four yearsin the war is not afraid of a laughing girl who loves his baby and hiswife! I can't risk a green, incompetent girl in the nursery now. I can'tthink of breaking in a new one. I like Cleo. She's a breath of fresh airwhen she comes into my room; she's clean and neat; she sings beautifully;her voice is soft and low and deep; I love her touch when she dresses me;the baby worships her--is all this nothing to you?"

  "Is my work nothing to you?" he answered soberly.

  "Bah! It's a joke! Your work has nothing to do with this girl. She knowsnothing, cares nothing for politics--it's absurd!"

  "My dear, you must listen to me now----"

  "I won't listen. I'll have my way about my servants. It's none of yourbusiness. Look after your politics and let the nursery alone!"

  "Please be reasonable, my love. I assure you I'm in dead earnest. Thedanger is a real one, or I wouldn't ask this of you--please----"

  "No--no--no--no!" she fairly shrieked.

  His voice was very quiet when he spoke at last:

  "I'm sorry to cross you in this, but the girl must leave to-night."

  The tones of his voice and the firm snap of his strong jaw left furtherargument out of the question and the little woman played her trump card.

  She sprang to her feet, pale with rage, and gave way to a fit of hysteria.He attempted to soothe her, in grave alarm over the possible effects on herhealth of such a temper.

  With a piercing scream she threw herself across the bed and he bent overher tenderly:

  "Please, don't act this way!"

  Her only answer was another scream, her little fists opening and closinglike a bird's talons gripping the white counterpane in her tremblingfingers.

  The man stood in helpless misery and sickening fear, bent low andwhispered:

  "Please, please, darling--it's all right--she can stay. I won't say anotherword. Don't make yourself ill. Please don't!"

  The sobbing ceased for a moment, and he added:

  "I'll go into the nursery and send her here to put you to bed."

  He turned to the door and met Cleo entering.

  "Miss Jean called me?" she asked with a curious smile playing about hergreenish eyes.

  "Yes. She wishes you to put her to bed."

  The girl threw him a look of triumphant tenderness and he knew that she hadheard and understood.