The Quicksilver Pool

by Whitney, Phyllis A. ;

  While Ellie prepared some fruit and molasses cookies for her to take to Adam, Lora questioned her about Hamlin.

  “Peter’s already took the pup off,” Ellie told her. “And a good thing, I say. The critter has caused enough trouble around here.”

  “But where did he take it, Ellie?”

  “He didn’t say where he was going, ma’am.” Ellie paused with an apple in her hands and there was spite in her look. “You ain’t figgerin’ to do anything ’bout it, are you, ma’am?”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Lora said. “There, that’s fine. Perhaps this will cheer Mr. Hume a little.”

  Ellie was not interested in Mr. Hume. “I guess you never seen Mr. Wade get real mad, have you, ma’am?”

  Lora took the basket and went out of the kitchen quickly. Before she left she looked in on Jemmy, saw he was asleep, and hurried from the house.

  At the Lords’ Lora found Serena floured to the elbows and singing as she worked. Serena loved to make her own bread and rolls and would relinquish the task to no cook she had ever had.

  “You’re just what Adam needs!” she cried, when Lora explained her basket. “He’s in a vile mood and I know you’re the one to stand right up to him and put him in his place.”

  Lora shook her head, smiling. “What a reputation I’m getting. I don’t want to put anyone in his place.”

  “He’s sitting in the sun on the terrace right now. So do take the basket out to him yourself. And scold him a little for the good of his soul.”

  “But I’ve really come to see you,” Lora protested.

  “That’s nice. But let me finish this chore first. I like to concentrate on talk for its own sake. We had towels and pillowcases interfering last time. Run along—right out the door there. Get a knife from the drawer first so you can coax him to eat some fruit.”

  There was nothing to do but obey and Lora went out to the rear terrace, where flagstones made a level space before the hill dropped steeply away. Adam sat glumly on an iron garden bench, with a blanket under him and a muffler of plaid wool around his neck.

  “Good morning,” Lora said cheerfully. “Serena has sent me out to scold you, but I’m not sure what for. I’m sorry you’ve been ill and I’ve brought you these. How are you today?”

  He looked up, unsmiling, and she saw how sallow his color was, and that there were shadows beneath his eyes.

  “I’m all right,” he said. “This thing leaves as fast as it hits me.”

  She set the basket down beside him on the bench, out ne made no move to touch it.

  “I’ll peel you an orange,” she said.

  She seated herself on the bench without invitation and chose a big golden sphere from the basket. But before she settled to the peeling she took a deep breath of warm, sunny air. The waters of the bay seemed a deeper blue than the sky today and the sails of the many vessels which dotted the water were dazzling white. Even the mushroom encampment at the foot of the hill gleamed in every detail and the bustle of soldiers on drill, artillery wagons, moving horses on parade, were plainly evident.

  “There’ll be action now with spring here,” Adam said, regarding the encampment dourly. “Both armies will be on the march. The waiting is over.”

  She knew how he must long to be back where he could be part of this movement himself, and she tried to distract him by bringing up a problem nearer home.

  “Did you know that Mrs. Channing’s colored maid has disappeared?” she asked.

  “Rebecca? I’ve always wondered how she endured serving her charming mistress this long.”

  Lora explained what Rebecca had told her about saving money and Adam made a grimace of distaste. “It seems to me the girl will be better off away from the place.”

  “I’m not sure,” Lora said. “I believe there was a man coming up to see her secretly. But she’s young and she can’t have been around much by herself. She could easily fall into the wrong hands. And I know she’ll be upset and worried because of what may happen now to her mother and sister. Do you suppose there’s anything we could do?”

  Wedges of orange peel were coming away from the fruit beneath her fingers as she worked the knife. When he did not speak she looked up to find him watching her in his quizzical way.

  “What about you, Lora?” he asked.

  She flashed a startled look at him. “I? What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you live any life of your own?”

  “I’m doing very well, thank you,” she said stiffly. She broke the orange into sections and held it out to him. He took a section, bit into it with strong, even teeth, his look still appraising her.

  “I’ve really come to talk to Serena,” she said, rising. “So I’ll go back inside now.”

  Unceremoniously, he pulled her down beside him on the bench. “Running away again? Serena is busy and happy. I am neither. Perhaps I can help you on the matter of Rebecca.”

  “Do you mean you know where she might be?”

  “There are quite a few Negro families down on McKeon Street. It’s probable that’s where she is. If you like I’ll go there tomorrow and see what I can find out. Though why you should bother—”

  “Because she’s alone. Because she’s only a little younger than I am and friendless. And she’s in trouble.”

  “And you care only about people in trouble,” said Adam wryly. “One of these days perhaps you’ll find out that Lora is important too, and that she has problems. Then what will you do?”

  “I have a problem right now,” she said quickly, ignoring the direction of his words. “Jemmy’s dog has chewed up an expensive shawl that belonged to Mother Tyler and Wade has given in to her demands that the dog must go. This morning Peter took him off somewhere and I must find a way to get him back.”

  Adam did not tease her this time. “Poor Jemmy. You’re right, of course. Take that dog away and he will be right back where he was before you came to the island. We’ll keep Ham for you here, if you like, till you straighten things out.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I hope Peter has taken him up to John Ambrose. The dog will be all right there until I’ve had a chance to talk to Wade.”

  “Unless Morgan is mad enough to refuse to have him on the premises. She doesn’t forgive easily, that one. And you must have riled her over Rebecca.”

  “What makes her that way?” Lora mused. “She has everything—position, money, beauty. She could be a wonderful person if she chose.”

  “She has everything but what she wants most,” Adam said, “and that makes her dangerous. Probably she has no real resentment against Rebecca. The girl was the scapegoat of the moment. Though I’ll admit that Morgan never gives up an inch of property she thinks she owns. Regardless of anything written on a paper, she probably looks upon Rebecca as her property.”

  Lora sat quietly, staring out toward the blue waters of the harbor. She was sure she would never understand Morgan Channing as long as she lived.

  “When you married Wade you must have thrown a pretty crimp into any new hopes she may have raised after Virginia’s death. She can’t love you for that.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Lora said. “But tea me what happened after Virginia married Wade. How did she take that? And where did Morgan and her father and mother live then?”

  “That was a funny thing. She didn’t carry on the way we expected her to. She took the whole thing in a queer, tight-lipped sort of way, as if for the first time in her life she was beaten and knew it. Wade rented a small house for her mother and father, since obviously they couldn’t remain on the premises as servants after he had married Virginia. Morgan went to live with them.

  “Mrs. Tyler wouldn’t receive Virginia’s parents socially. Nevertheless, Virginia began to take Morgan around to parties, and buy her clothes. She tried her best to share her own good fortune with her sister. At first people stood off—but they liked Wade, and no one could resist Virginia. So in a year or two Morgan was going everywhere with her new gowns and the fancy airs she m
imicked from ladies she met. She was always clever enough. And she knew she had a natural appeal for men which she didn’t hesitate to use.”

  “I suppose she met Mr. Channing through Virginia?”

  Adam nodded. “Before the war quite a few Southerners sent their families to Staten Island during the summer. The better hotels here catered to the resort trade from the South. Nick was a widower and he used to escort his sister and her children North every year before returning home to his own affairs. But the summer he met Morgan he stayed on for a time, and she had a good chance to set her little claws into him. He was handsome, though considerably older than she, and he had position and money. More money than Wade. Morgan married him before he had time to catch his breath, and then she got him to build her that big house on the hill so they could live up there part of the year. Of course she wanted to be where she could lord it over those who had snubbed her—and to be near Wade.”

  Lora listened in silence. More small pieces falling into place, forming the pattern.

  “Have a piece of orange,” Adam said. “You’re not enjoying your own handiwork. Incidentally, have you any idea what Morgan is up to now with all this entertaining she’s doing? A mixed lot she has coming up there now, with that Norwood fellow always in evidence.”

  “I don’t keep track of my neighbor’s business,” Lora said primly.

  He grinned at her. “Meaning that I do? Of course I do. What else have I to occupy me? Wade is moving with an odd lot, if you ask me, from the rumors I’ve heard. Norwood is running with the Circle.”

  “What circle?” Lora asked carelessly.

  “The Golden Circle. The Vallandigham, Fernando Wood bunch. Peace Democrats! Maybe. But more likely rampant Copperheads favoring the South. And that, my innocent one, is treason.”

  “I don’t know much about politics,” Lora said. “Only what I pick up here and there. But isn’t it possible that some of these people are just as sincere as you are? What if they truly want to stop the war?”

  “I’ve no doubt at all that they want to stop it—by stabbing the Union in the back, by driving her down to defeat in her own territory.”

  Lora bit into a piece of orange, tasted the tangy juice on her tongue. His words were adding to the uneasiness that already stirred within her. But she knew Wade would never throw in his lot with those who planned treason. She was sure of that. Unless—since he was more idealist than realist—they tried to hoodwink him, use him. That was a new and disturbing thought.

  She repeated the old argument she had heard from Morgan and from Mr. Norwood when he was talking to Wade. “Isn’t it possible that if the draft was stopped in the North the Union might be forced to negotiate with the South so that a peaceful resolution could be brought about and all the fighting stopped?”

  “The United States government would not look lightly upon such notions. Try to stop the draft and the army and militia will put the resistance down in short order. Even if it means bloodshed.”

  “But haven’t there been some places in the Middle West—”

  “It seems to me that you know a good deal about these matters,” Adam broke in. “Who has been telling you these things?”

  She could feel the flush rising in her cheeks, but evidently he did not expect an answer.

  “Vallandigham and his crowd are going to have to step softly or find themselves in hot water. I suppose you know about General Burnside’s recent order?”

  She shook her head.

  “That somewhat hotheaded gentleman has ordered the arrest of anyone guilty of seditious utterances likely to obstruct recruiting. This Val, who has made himself the hero of the Peace Democrats, has been doing just that. It remains to be seen whether this order will muzzle him. If it does not and he is arrested there may be the devil to pay from his supporters. In any event, if Wade has got himself mixed up in any of this, my advice to you is to get him out of it as quickly as possible.”

  “I’m sure Wade is quite capable of running his own affairs,” Lora said stiffly. “And I’m also sure he’d never have anything to do with treason.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Adam said, but his tone was dry.

  Lora rose with what she hoped was an air of dignity and bade him good morning.

  At least Adam had stopped sulking, for he grinned at her with his old mockery. “Thank you for your visit, Mrs. Tyler. You’ve done me no end of good.”

  She went into the house without answering him and stayed a while longer, visiting with Serena. She told her about Rebecca and that Adam had offered to look for the girl down on McKeon Street. Serena promised to see that he kept his word.

  Soon after, Lora went home to find that Peter had returned, and that, as she had hoped, he had taken Hamlin up the hill and placed him temporarily in John Ambrose’s friendly hands.

  “I don’t know if Mr. Wade will approve, ma’am, but it just seems like I couldn’t take the boy’s dog off and give him to strangers.”

  “The more fool you,” said Ellie, listening to his words disapprovingly. “There’ll be the old Ned to pay with both his nibs and her nobs when they find this out.”

  XXII

  Wade stayed away from the house all day and all evening. His mother complained and fretted, but finally went to bed. Lora sat up in the library, comfortable in her old warm wrapper. The air had turned cool after the summery day and a fire felt good again. Tonight a high wind was blowing and rattling the windowpanes, setting dry vines scraping across library windows—the only sounds in a still house.

  Lora had curled herself on the sofa before the fire with a copy of Leslie’s Weekly in her lap, but as often as not the pages, with their vivid drawings of battle scenes, lay unheeded and her thoughts wandered uneasily.

  If Wade had gone to New York for the day and evening, he had missed the last boat home by now and there was no point in sitting up waiting for him. On the other hand, if he were on the island he might come home at any moment and she had the feeling that she wanted to be up when he came in.

  That morning, after she learned for sure that Peter had taken Hamlin up to John Ambrose, she had gone in to tell the secret to Jemmy. She found him awake and listless, but when she gave him her news about the dog he recovered quickly enough. Nevertheless, Lora kept him away from his grandmother and brought up a tempting lunch on a tray. When the old lady lay down for her afternoon nap, Lora took Jemmy out to a sunny nook in the Hume house, where dandelions already dotted the bright new grass and yellow forsythia hung above their heads over a crumbling wall. They read aloud to each other, talked lightheartedly, and nibbled the molasses cookies Lora had brought along for a special treat.

  Reassured that Hamlin’s absence was temporary, Jemmy was no longer despairing. Late in the afternoon she let him run up the hill by himself to visit the dog and his grandfather.

  Now all that remained was for her to make good her promise that Hamlin would soon be returned to the arms of a welcoming family.

  The vine, still dry with winter leaves, clattered against the window and at intervals wind whined down the chimney. She wished Wade would come. The later the hour, the more uneasy she grew. Sometime after midnight she went out to the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove.

  Even if Wade did not come at all, a cup of tea would be comforting. But as she returned to the library, she heard the sound of a hackney out on the drive and a moment later Wade’s key clicked in the lock.

  She waited for him at the library door, and was aware of his lack of pleasure when he saw her. But she hurried to take his hat and help him off with his coat, pretending not to notice.

  “You’ve had a long day,” she said cheerfully. “Come in before the fire and rest a minute. The kettle’s heating on the stove and we’ll have a cup of tea in a little while.”

  Perhaps he had expected stormy words from her over the dog, and when she said nothing about what had happened that morning, he seemed to relax a little. He did not object when she plumped up pillows behind him on the sofa and covere
d his legs with a comforter as he stretched out. She sat down on a hassock close to the fire and began to talk of inconsequential things.

  “One of these days would you mind if Jemmy and I rummaged in the attic trunks?” she asked. “Jemmy thinks it would be fun, and I’d like to give him the pleasure. If you don’t mind, of course.”

  “Do as you like,” Wade said listlessly.

  He looked tired, as he did often these days, and she was afraid he was trying too much for his newly returning strength. A movement made him grimace and she knew his leg must be paining him again, as always happened when he asked too much of it. When he seemed at length to doze, she tiptoed out to the kitchen and prepared a big brown earthenware pot of tea. There were still a few cookies from Ellie’s last baking, and she set up a tray attractively with a linen cloth and a sprig of the forsythia she and Jemmy had brought home that afternoon. From the dining room she brought one of the nested tea tables and set it at Wade’s elbow to hold the tray.

  He roused himself sufficiently to smile at her. “You’re spoiling me,” he said.

  She smiled serenely as she poured the tea. With silver tongs she dropped two lumps of sugar in his cup, and added cream. Then she poured tea for herself and sat down once more on the hassock, watching the fire. After a while her silence, or perhaps the stimulating warmth of strong tea, seemed to urge him into words.

  “Norwood offered to take me on his rounds in New York,” he began, “so I went over with him this morning. I’ve been there most of the day. We came back here for dinner and another meeting on the island. The movement is growing, Lora, and there’s power behind it.”

  Nevertheless, there was a puckering between his brows.

  “Do you still feel that what these people are doing is right?” Lora asked quietly.

  He stirred his tea, still thoughtful, as though torn by indecision.

  “Not all of it. In theory, in principle, I can be with it. Even in much of the choice of action I can go along. But there are aspects I distrust. Mind you, this is to go no farther than these walls, Lora.”