The woman in the wheel chair stared in astonishment. “What do you mean? How dare you intimate that—”
“Please,” Lora said, looking away from her, “it’s too warm a day to get angry. In some ways you are a very honest woman and I admire you. But you aren’t honest about this—not even with yourself.”
At least the old lady had learned that raging and storming got her nowhere with Lora. She had even begun to give the girl a certain grudging respect because Lora had proved an adversary worthy of her mettle. It was too easy to browbeat everyone else, and sometimes a little tiresome.
“Very well,” said Mrs. Tyler tartly, “since I find myself helpless in this chair and unable to escape from the valuable advice offered me by a chit who is scarcely out of swaddling clothes, you may instruct me.”
Lora rocked back and forth on the grass, her knees pulled up beneath her chin. “It’s not really you I want to be honest about, but Wade. Do you think we could both be honest about him?”
“Since you have known him for a handful of months and I have known him all his life, this promises to be an interesting, if not informative discussion.”
“I wonder if you really do know him,” Lora said softly.
“Know him? I know his every thought and gesture. I know his waywardness, his refusal to take the advice which would have helped make a man of him.”
“A man in whose pattern?”
“His grandfather’s, of course. From the very first I tried to save him from his father’s course, tried to hold up to him the ideal that was Jason Cowles. But as a child he would twist in my very hands. And when I managed to extract obedience from him he would fail so miserably that I would wash my hands of him for weeks at a time.”
“Do you really think any human being can be turned into something he is not?” Lora asked. “I don’t believe Wade could be like Jason Cowles if he lived a hundred years.”
“So he became the spineless thing he is!” said Mrs. Tyler, and scorn cut through her voice.
“I don’t believe he’s in the least spineless. He is trying to go his own way. He wanted your love and admiration very much as a boy. Why didn’t you ever seek for something in him to love and admire?”
“As his calf-eyed Virginia did? No, thank you. I see him as he is. For his own good. And now I’ll ask you a question—what do you see in him to love and admire?”
Lora closed her eyes, rocking again. This was not something she could be entirely truthful about. Mother Tyler had long ago surmised the facts. What the old woman said now was intended to taunt.
She chose her words carefully. “I see the things he could be. I see what is in him to become.”
“Pah! Those were the things I tried to see. But he wouldn’t grow, or else he could not. He is my son and I have an affection for him, my fine lady, in spite of your accusation.”
“I wonder if affection without respect does anyone any good? I wouldn’t want such a thing for myself. Why shouldn’t he resist an affection like that?”
“You seem to be running in circles,” the old lady said. “You won’t have me change him, yet you talk about his becoming something else. He gives me nothing to win my respect, yet you talk about love being worthless without respect. Well, enough of this nonsense. Come back and talk to me in twenty years when you’ve more sense in your silly young head.”
Lora straightened and looked at her. “Are you aware that Wade knows the truth about that day when you grasped Morgan’s curling iron?”
The old woman was a master at controlling her features. She blinked slowly and started to speak, but Lora went on.
“I know that it’s Morgan’s word against yours. But this time Wade believes Morgan. So perhaps there is something lacking in what respect he may feel for you.”
It was the first time Lora had ever seen Mother Tyler at a complete loss for words. She lay back in her chair and closed her eyes. In the merciless light every line in her face seemed deeply etched.
Lora got up and dusted the bits of earth and grass from her skirts. Then she came over and stood beside the old lady’s chair.
“All these things are long in the past and should be forgotten. It is now that matters. I want to help Wade. And I want to help you and Jemmy too. Right now, you. Come—take my hands and walk a few steps. Two steps, three, six—no more. You stand every day when you get into that chair. You can learn to walk alone if you try.”
She held out her hands while the old woman stared at her in angry resentment.
“Do you think I am pretending this injury? The Lord has seen fit to punish me with this affliction and I can only be resigned to His will.”
“I don’t believe that,” Lora said. “But I do believe He’d help you if you tried to help yourself. You’ve let your muscles grow too weak to hold you, but there is still muscle control there … if we begin to exercise it every day it will increase. Come now—I won’t let you fall.”
Mother. Tyler slapped her hands away and pouted like a child. “I’ll do nothing of the kind. Go get me a glass of water, if you please.”
“That is changing the subject,” said Lora. “I will get your water in a moment. If you know Wade so well, what is it that he wants from life? Tell me that.”
“To be loved exactly as he is, of course. Just as his blindly devoted Virginia loved him.”
Lora nodded. “That’s what I’ve thought too. I suppose that is really what we all want—every one of us. Morgan and Adam Hume and me. And you, too. It would be so easy that way, so pleasant. We’d never have to look our faults in the eye, or do anything about them. But my father never thought that was good for anyone.”
At least Mother Tyler was listening now. “Go on,” she said wryly. “This is most revealing.”
A breeze stirred through the garden and Lora held out her hand to catch the drifting white snow of apple blossoms, then blew them away with a puff.
“I can’t go on,” she said. “I don’t suppose I’m even thinking these things out for myself. I’m remembering my father and the things he told me. But I can’t remember enough. I think you’re still fighting some sort of battle that was really ended in the past. But you’ve never found out that the war has long been over and that you can now lay down your arms. You’ve only friends around you.”
“What on earth do you mean by such gibberish?”
“You might even find here in your own house something of what you’ve been fighting for, all these years.”
“May I have that glass of water, or must I scream for Ellie? No one ever brings out my bell when I come into the yard.”
“I’ll get your water,” Lora said, and went quickly off.
She returned with a glass of cool well water, clear and sparkling in the May sunshine, and gave it to the old lady, who drank thirstily. She looked so weary and old that in the merciless light every line in her face seemed more deeply grooved. Lora felt a little guilty. Perhaps she had not been altogether fair or kind.
Mrs. Tyler handed her the glass. “Where is that dog?” she asked irritably.
“Why—” Lora hesitated, confused by the unexpectedness of the question. “John Ambrose has him up at Morgan’s. He’s been there ever since the day Wade had him taken away.”
“So that is how his orders are obeyed? But no matter. Get him back. Let the boy have him. I’ve endured this wrangling and these reproachful looks long enough.”
For a moment Lora could only stare in surprise. Then she reached out and touched Mrs. Tyler’s shoulder gently.
“Thank you, Mother. But we can’t do it that way. Not yet.”
“Why not? What do you mean?”
“I—I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just that I feel this is something Wade must do. He banished the puppy himself to give in to you. Now he should be willing to accept the responsibility of bringing it back—no matter what he thinks you may do. It must be hard for him—or there’s no value in it If you make it easy—”
“You’re confusing me. I tho
ught you wanted to see Jemmy happy. And I know what store the boy sets by that dog. I’d already decided to see what I could do about the matter. I can’t remember now what I was so angry about. Because you crossed me, I expect. But now you are holding back from doing this for the child.”
“Jemmy needs love, but not coddling,” Lora said. “He’s really a very strong little boy when it comes to spirit. I suspect he’s like his grandfather Jason. Like you.”
The old lady blinked and her mouth creased into a long-unused smile. “What a joke on me—if that proves true. I’ve always thought him a stubborn child whose will ought to be broken.”
“I don’t think you can break it,” Lora told her. “Any more than anyone could break yours. But Wade is different. Not like his father either, from what I’ve heard. Like himself. But he has bound himself to a wheel chair in a sense, just as you have, and goodness knows how we’re ever going to get either of you to see that you can walk!”
“I don’t want to walk!” the old lady said. “Do stop chattering and go back to your dandelions. At least twelve new plants have cropped up while you’ve been wasting your time!”
Lora laughed and returned to her work. Behind her Mother Tyler closed her eyes and seemed to sleep. But once she opened them and spoke sharply to Lora.
“Think you’re a clever one, don’t you?” she said.
XXV
One afternoon a few days later Ellie came up to Lora’s room while she was changing her dress for dinner and announced that Mr. Norwood was calling. He had asked for Mr. Wade, but since he was not in, Mr. Norwood would like to see his wife.
Lora hurried downstairs to the parlor and gave her hand in greeting to the tall, blond man. They both agreed that it was a lovely day and Mr. Norwood murmured several absent pleasantries.
“I’m sorry Wade is out,” Lora said. “But since it’s getting late, he should be home at any moment. Won’t you wait for him?”
As a rule Murray Norwood was impeccably dressed and unruffled in manner. But today his shoes and gray trousers bore spatterings of mud, as if he had stepped without care into muddy streets. And there was a restless movement to his gaze as it shifted about the room, while his fingers tapped his knee nervously. If she had not been there, Lora suspected, he would have jumped up to pace the room.
“I hope nothing is wrong,” she said at length. “You seem to be worried.”
He looked at her then, as if realizing her presence for the first time. For a moment he hesitated, as if gauging her, wondering whether or not to speak.
Then he said shortly, “General Burnside has made the most contemptible and ridiculous move of his career. He has had Clement Vallandigham arrested.”
Vallandigham—the man whom newspapers referred to familiarly as “Val.” The supposed leader of the Copperheads, and perhaps of the Golden Circle. Certainly a leader of the Peace Democrats.
“What has happened?” she asked. “What has he done?”
Mr. Norwood left his chair to move restlessly to a window where Ellie had opened the shutters, and looked out upon the drive as if to see whether Wade were yet in sight.
“He has merely made a speech stating his own beliefs—no more than he has been doing all along.”
“I believe Wade said something of an order General Burnside had given—” Lora began.
“Exactly—an order for the arrest of anyone giving voice to seditious utterances. That is a scurvy attempt to muzzle all opposition to the Administration. Then to arrest Val—the man must be insane!”
Lora said nothing, little understanding these matters, and Mr. Norwood, now that he had found release in words, went on.
“This may easily mean civil war within the ranks of the North. I understand that Ohio is up in arms, clamoring for Val’s release. Burnside has handed the President a hot potato that he had better get rid of quickly. At least this may serve one good purpose.”
He turned from the windows and looked at her triumphantly, as if she had been ready to contradict him.
“This may unite every man in the country who is against this war. It should roll up a tremendous opposition to the draft.”
Lora was saved the need for an answer by the sound of the carriage on the drive. “There is Wade now,” she said.
Mr. Norwood returned to his chair and attempted an attitude of calm. “Your husband seems very busy these days, Mrs. Tyler.”
The remark surprised her. She had supposed that Wade was out on business of the Circle and that this man would know all about his movements.
“He has been away in the army so long,” she said carefully. “There are a great many things to catch up with.”
“Indeed there must be,” said Murray Norwood and bent upon her a look that was more than a little suspicious.
She hurried to the door to open it for Wade. “Vallandigham’s been arrested,” she whispered as he came in. “Mr. Norwood is here to see you.”
He nodded as he turned toward the parlor. “Yes, I know about Val.”
She went in with him for a moment, then excused herself. Wade did not seem as anxious to see his visitor as Mr. Norwood was to see him. She felt uneasy about the whole matter as she withdrew, leaving them alone.
Once she heard Mr. Norwood’s voice raised angrily, though she did not hear the words. And when he left the house he did so furiously and without any courteous farewells.
At dinner that night Wade seemed preoccupied and sober. He told his mother about General Burnside’s order concerning Vallandigham and she nodded emphatic approval.
“About time! Something needs to be done to stop that sort of thing.”
“But if the government makes a martyr of him, keeps him in prison,” Wade said, “I’m afraid it will only consolidate opposition to the Union.”
“I’d begun to think you were part of that opposition,” his mother said shrewdly.
Wade shook his head. “I have never opposed the Union. Only the war.”
After dinner he shut himself in the library again with the door closed. Lora sat up for a little while in Mrs. Tyler’s sitting room and then went up to her own room. It was not yet dark and the clown doll she had brought down from the attic grinned at her from his shadowy place on her dresser. So far her whimsy in bringing him downstairs had led to no inspiration. His presence had provoked no further understanding of old problems which concerned Wade.
Lora herself felt restless tonight, eager for something to do. She didn’t want to stay idly in her own room. An idea which had returned to mind several times lately prompted her again and she went quietly down the hall toward Virginia’s room.
She opened the door as softly as possible and stepped inside. The mingling odors of dust, long-dried rose leaves and stale air engulfed her and, moved by sudden purpose, she went to the side window and flung it wide. A cool breeze swept in, dispelling the miasma of disuse. She stood in the middle of the room looking about her thoughtfully.
She was startled when Jemmy’s voice spoke from the open door behind her.
“Lorie, what are you doing in here?”
She beckoned him into the room. “Tell me, Jemmy, do you ever come in here?”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. Papa said no one was to come in but himself.”
Lora went close to him and put a hand upon his shoulder. “Have you ever wanted to come in?”
“Not after the—the beginning,” he said bleakly. “I did come in sometimes at first, even though Papa said not to. But she was gone, Lorie. I couldn’t get her to come back even when I touched her things and tried to pretend she was here. And it made me feel worse than ever, so I stopped coming.”
“That was very wise,” Lora said gently. “I know you were angry with me that time when I wore your mama’s dress to the party, and I wondered how you’d feel if we packed all these things away in the attic and turned this room into something different.”
“What do you mean—different?”
“An upstairs sitting room for you and your father
and me,” she said. “So we wouldn’t have to bother your grandmother when we wanted a place to read and play games in the evening. Or disturb your father, or anyone else who wanted to work in the library. What do you think, Jemmy?”
His hesitation lasted only a moment. Then he nodded solemnly. “I think it would be nice. You know I got over feeling bad about you wearing her dress, don’t you?”
“I know,” Lora said. “But I’m glad you’ve told me. And I’m happy that you like the idea of a sitting room.”
“What will Papa say?”
“I don’t know. Of course we can’t do anything unless we have his consent. But perhaps we can bring it up one of these days and start him thinking about it.”
Later, while she was undressing for bed, she thought about it further herself. Wade had not gone into the room for a long while, as far as she knew. And after he got over any first feeling of shock perhaps he would begin to see how useful such a room might be to them. Of course she would take care to erase every touch of Virginia. Everything would be changed, new furniture brought in. The room would become truly a family room and if Mother Tyler wanted any part of it, then she could learn to get up here herself!
She was in bed when she heard Wade coming upstairs. His step still halted when he had to climb, but he moved much more competently now and was less dependent on his cane. He might always be left with a limp, but at least it now appeared that he would be able to move about with much greater ease.
He no longer came to her room at night to talk to her when he was troubled, or elated, as he had once done. He had not been here since that night when they had gone down to the kitchen together, and had looked at the moon from the back door, felt the pulsing of spring in the air. She wished he would come in now and tell her something of the reason for Murray Norwood’s visit, but she heard his steps retreat toward his door and knew he would not.
She was becoming increasingly disturbed about his secrecy over the matters in which he was involved. And his withdrawal left her with a small ache besides. In the beginning he had clung to her far more than he did now. And though she had wanted him to find independence and had resisted and resented the way he tried to substitute her in his mind for Virginia, she wished now that he might come a little further along the road of friendship that had seemed for a time to be developing between them. She could not help wondering what had happened to stop that growth.
The Quicksilver Pool Page 30