Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe

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Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe Page 78

by Harriet Beecher Stowe


  Nina followed him, and Clayton was absolutely shocked at the ghastly paleness of her face. She made an uncertain motion towards him, as if she would have gone to him for protection. Clayton rose; Carson, also; and all stood for a moment in silent embarrassment.

  “Well, this is a pretty business, to be sure! Nina,” said he, turning to her, with a tremendous oath, “why don’t you introduce me? Pretty way to meet a brother you haven’t seen for three or four years! You act as if you were ashamed of me! Confound it all! introduce me, I say!”

  “Tom, don’t speak so!” said Nina, laying her hand On his arm, in a soothing tone. “This gentleman is Mr. Clayton; and Mr. Clayton,” she said, lifting her eyes to him, and speaking in a trembling voice, “this is my brother.”

  Mr. Clayton offered his hand, with the ordinary expressions of civility.

  “Mr. Carson,” said Nina, “my brother.”

  There was something inexpressibly touching and affecting in the manner in which this was said. One other person noticed it. Harry, who had given the horse to a servant, stood leaning against the doorway, looking on. A fiery gleam, like that of a steel blade, seemed to shoot from his blue eyes; and each time that Nina said “my brother,” he drew in his breath, as one who seeks to restrain himself in some violent inward emotion.

  “I suppose you don’t any of you want to see me much,” said the newcomer, taking a chair, and sitting down doggedly in the centre of the group, with his hat on his head.

  “Well, I have as good a right as anybody to be here!” he continued, spitting a quid of tobacco at Aunt Nesbit’s feet.

  “For my part, I think relations ought to have natural affection, and be glad to see one another. Well, now, you can see, gentlemen, with your own eyes, just how it is here! There’s my sister, there. You better believe me, she hasn’t seen me for three years! Instead of appearing glad, or anything, there she sits, all curled up in a corner! Won’t come near me, more than if I had the plague! Come here, now, you little kit, and sit in my lap!”

  He made a movement to pull Nina towards him, which she resisted with an air of terror, looking at her aunt, who, more terrified still, sat with her feet drawn up on the sofa, as if he had been a mad dog. There was reason enough for the terror which seemed to possess them both. Both had too vivid recollections of furious domestic hurricanes that had swept over the family when Tom Gordon came home. Nina remembered the storms of oaths and curses that had terrified her when a child; the times that she had seen her father looking like death, leaning his head on his hand, and sighing as only those sigh who have an only son worse than dead. It is no wonder, therefore, that Nina, generally courageous and fearless as she was, should have become fearful and embarrassed at his sudden return.

  “Tom,” she said softly, coming up to him, “you haven’t been to supper. Hadn’t you better come out?”

  “No you don’t!” said he, catching her round the waist, and drawing her on his knee. “You won’t get me out of the room, now! I know what I am about! Tell me,” continued he, still holding her on his knee, “which of them is it, Nin? — which is the favored one?”

  Clayton rose and went out on the veranda, and Mr. Carson asked Harry to show him into his room.

  “Hallo! shelling out there, are they? Well, Nin, to tell the truth, I am deuced hungry. For my part, I don’t see what the thunder keeps my Jim out so long. I sent him across to the post-office. He ought to have been back certainly as soon as I was. Oh, here he comes! Hallo! you dog, there!” said he, going to the door, where a very black negro was dismounting. “Any letters?”

  “No, mas’r. I spect de mails have gin up. Der ain’t been no letters dere, for no one, for a month. It is some ‘quatic disorganization of dese yer creeks, I s’pose. So de letter-bags goes anywhere ‘cept der right place.”

  “Confound it all! I say, you Nin,” turning round, “why don’t you offer a fellow some supper? Coming home, here, in my own father’s house, everybody acts as if they were scared to death! No supper!”

  “Why, Tom, I’ve been asking you, these three or four times.”

  “Bless us!” said Jim, whispering to Harry. “De mischief is, he ain’t more than half primed! Tell her to give him a little more brandy, and after a little we will get him into bed as easy as can be!”

  And the event proved so; for on sitting down to supper, Tom Gordon passed regularly through all the stages of drunkenness; became as outrageously affectionate as he had been before surly, kissed Nina and Aunt Nesbit, cried over his sins and confessed his iniquities, laughed and cried feebly, till at last he sank in his chair asleep.

  “Dar, he is done for, now!” said Jim, who had been watching the gradual process. “Now, just you and I, let’s tote him off,” said he to Harry.

  Nina, on her part, retired to a troubled pillow. She foresaw nothing before her but mortification and embarrassment, and realized more than ever the peculiar loneliness of her situation. For all purposes of consultation and aid, Aunt Nesbit was nobody in her esteem, and Nina was always excited and vexed by every new attempt that she made to confide in her.

  “Now, to-morrow,” she said to herself, as she lay down, “no one knows what will turn up. He will go round as usual, interfering with everything — threatening and frightening my servants, and getting up some difficulty with Harry. Dear me! it seems to me life is coming over me hard enough, and all at once, too!”

  As Nina said this she saw some one standing by her bed. It was Milly, who stooped tenderly over her, smoothing and arranging the bedclothes in a motherly way. “Is that you, Milly? Oh, sit down here a minute! I am so troubled! It seems to me I’ve had so much trouble to-day! Do you know, Tom came home to-night so drunk! Oh, dear Milly, it was horrid! Do you know, he took me in his arms and kissed me; and though he is my only brother, it’s perfectly dreadful to me! And I feel so worried and so anxious!”

  “Yes, lamb, I knows all about dese yer things,” said Milly. “I’s seen him many and many times.”

  “The worst of it is,” said Nina, “that I don’t know what he will do to-morrow — and before Mr. Clayton, too! It makes me feel so helpless, ashamed, and mortifies me so!”

  “Yes, yes, chile,” said Milly, gently stroking her head. “I stand so much alone!” said Nina. “Other girls have some friend or relation to lean on; but I have nobody!”

  “Why don’t you ask your Father to help you?” said Milly to Nina in a gentle tone.

  “Ask who?” said Nina, lifting up her head from the pillow.

  “Your Father!” said Milly, with a voice of solemnity. “Don’t you know ‘Our Father who art in Heaven’? You haven’t forgot your prayers, I hope, honey.”

  Nina looked at her with surprise. And Milly continued, “Now, if I was you, lamb, I would tell my Father all about it. Why, chile, He loves you! He wouldn’t like nothing better, now, than to have you just come to Him and tell Him all about your troubles, and He’ll make ’em all straight. That’s the way I does, and I’s found it come out right many and many a time.”

  “Why, Milly, you wouldn’t have me go to God about my little foolish affairs?”

  “Laws, chile, what should you go to Him ‘bout, den? Sure dese are all de ‘fairs you’s got.”

  “Well, but, Milly,” said Nina apprehensively, “you know I’ve been a very bad girl about religion. It’s years and years since I’ve said any prayers. At school, the girls used to laugh at anybody who said prayers; and so I never did. And since I’ve neglected my heavenly Father when things went well with me, it wouldn’t be fair to call on Him now, just because I’ve got into trouble. I don’t think it would be honorable.”

  “De Lord bless dis yer chile! Do hear her talk! Just as if de heavenly Father didn’t know all about you, and hadn’t been a loving and watching you de whole time! Why, chile, He knows what poor foolish creatures we be; and He ain’t noways surprised, nor put out. Why, laws, don’t you know He’s de good shepherd? And what you suppose dey has shepherds fur, ‘cept de sheeps are all de
time running away, and getting into trouble? Why, honey, dat’s what dey’s fur.”

  “Well, but it is so long since I prayed, that I don’t know anything how to pray, Milly.”

  “Bless you, chile, who wanted you to pray? I never prays myself. Used to try, but I made such drefful poor work on it that I gin it up. Now, I just goes and talks to de Father, and tells Him anything and everything; and I think He likes it a great deal better. Why, He is just as willing to hear me now as if I was the greatest lady in the land. And He takes such an interest in all my poor ‘fairs! Why, sometimes I go to Him when my heart is so heavy; and when I tells Him all about it, I comes away as light as a feather!”

  “Well, but after I’ve forgotten Him so many years!”

  “Why, honey, now just look yere! I ‘member once, when you was a little weety thing, that you toddles down dem steps dere, and you slips away from dem dat was watching you, and you toddles away off into de grove, yonder, and dere you got picking flowers, and one thing and another, mighty tickled and peart. You was down dere ‘joying yourself, till, by and by, your pa missed you; and den such another hunt as dere was! Dere was a hurrying here, and a looking dere; and finally your pa run down in de woods, and dere you’d got stuck fast in de mud! both your shoes off, and well scratched with briers; and dere you stood a-crying, and calling your pa. I tell you he said dat ar was de sweetest music he ever heard in his life. I ‘member he picked you up, and came up to de house kissing you. Now, dere ’twas, honey! You didn’t call on your pa till you got into trouble. And laws, laws, chile, dat’s de way with us all. We never does call on de Father till we gets into trouble; and it takes heaps and heaps of trouble, sometimes, to bring us round. Some time, chile, I’ll tell you my sperence. I’s got a sperence on this point. But now, honey, don’t trouble yourself no more; but just ask your Father to take care of your ‘fairs, and turn over and go to sleep. And He’ll do it. Now you mind.”

  So saying, Milly smoothed the pillow with anxious care, and kissing Nina on the forehead, departed.

  CHAPTER XIII

  TOM GORDON

  “I SAY, Nina,” said her brother, coming in, the day after, from a survey he had been taking round the premises, “you want me here to manage this place. Everything going at sixes and sevens; and that nigger of a Harry riding round with his boots shining. That fellow cheats you, ànd feathers his own nest well. I know! These white niggers are all deceitful.”

  “Come, Tom, you know the estate is managed just as father left word to have it; and Uncle John says that Harry is an excellent manager. I’m sure nobody could have been more faithful to me; and I am very well satisfied.”

  “Yes, I dare say. All left to you and the executors, as you call them; as if I were not the natural guardian of my sister! Then I come here to put up with that fellow’s impudence!”

  “Whose? — Harry’s? He is never impudent. He is always gentlemanly. Everybody remarks it.”

  “Gentlemanly! There it is, Nin! What a fool you are to encourage the use of that word in connection with any of your niggers! Gentleman, forsooth! And while he plays gentleman, who takes care? I tell you what, you’ll find one of these days how things are going on. But that’s just the way! You never would listen to me, or pay the least attention to my advice.”

  “Oh, Tom, don’t talk about that — don’t! I never interfere about your affairs. Please leave me the right to manage mine in my own way.”

  “And who is this Clayton that’s hanging about here? Are you going to have him, or he you — hey?”

  “I don’t know,” said Nina.

  “Because i, for one, don’t like him; and I sha’n’t give my consent to let him have you. That other one is worth twice as much. He has one of the largest properties in New York. Joe Snider has told me about him. You shall have him.”

  “I shall not have him, say what you please; and I shall have Mr. Clayton, if I choose!” said Nina, with a heightened color. “You have no right to dictate to me of my own affairs; and I sha’n’t submit to it, I tell you frankly.”

  “Highty-tighty! We are coming up, to be sure!” said Tom.

  “Moreover,” said Nina, “I wish you to let everything on this place entirely alone; and remember that my servants are not your servants, and that you have no control over them whatever.”

  “Well, we will see how you’ll help yourself! I am not going to go skulking about on my father’s own place as if I had no right or title there; and if your niggers don’t look sharp, they’ll find out whether I am the master here or not, especially that Harry. If the dog dares so much as to lift his fingers to countermand any one of my orders, I’d put a bullet through his head as soon as I would through a buck’s. I give you warning!”

  “Oh, Tom, pray don’t talk so!” said Nina, who really began to be alarmed. “What do you want to make me such trouble for?”

  The conversation was here suspended by the entrance of Milly. “If you please, Miss Nina, come and show me which of your muslins you wish to be done up, as I’s starching for Miss Loo.”

  Glad of an opportunity to turn the conversation, Nina ran up to her room, whither she was followed by Milly, who shut the door, and spoke to her in mysterious tones. “Miss Nina, can’t you make some errand to get Harry off the place for two or three days, while Mas’r Tom’s round?”

  “But what right,” said Nina, with heightened color, “has he to dictate to my servants, or me? or to interfere with any of our arrangements here?”

  “Oh, dere’s no use talking about rights, honey. We must all do jest what we ken. Don’t make much odds whether our rights is one way or t’other. You see, chile, it’s just here. Harry’s your right hand. But you see, he ain’t learnt to bend ‘fore the wind, like the rest of us. He is spirity; he is just as full now as a powder-box; and Mas’r Tom is bent on aggravating him. And, laws, chile, dere may be bloody work — dere may so!”

  “Why, do you think he’d dare” —

  “Chile, don’t talk to me! Dare! — yes; sure ‘nough he will dare! Besides, dere’s fifty ways young gentlemen may take to aggravate and provoke. And when flesh and blood can’t bear it no longer, if Harry raises his hand, why, den shoot him down! Nothing said — nothing done. You can’t help yourself. You won’t want to have a lawsuit with your own brother; and if you did, ‘t wouldn’t bring Harry to life! Laws, chile, ef I could tell you what I’ve seen — you don’t know nothing ‘bout it. Now, I tell you, get up some message to your uncle’s plantation; send him off for anything or nothing; only have him gone! And then speak your brother fair, and then maybe he will go off. But don’t you quarrel! don’t you cross him, come what may! Dere ain’t a soul on the place that can bar de sight on him. But then, you see, the rest dey all bends! But, chile, you must be quick about it! Let me go right off and find him. Just you come in the little back room, and I’ll call him in.”

  Pale and trembling, Nina descended into the room; and in a few moments after Milly appeared, followed by Harry.

  “Harry!” said Nina in a trembling voice, “I want you to take your horse and go over to Uncle John’s plantation, and carry a note for me.”

  Harry stood with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon the ground, and Nina continued, —

  “And, Harry, I think you had better make some business or errand to keep you away two or three days, or a week.”

  “Miss Nina,” said Harry, “the affairs of the place are very pressing now, and need overlooking. A few days’ neglect now may produce a great loss, and then it will be said that I neglected my business to idle and ride round the country.”

  “Well, but, if I send you, I take the responsibility, and I’ll bear the loss. The fact is, Harry, I’m afraid that you won’t have patience to be here, now Tom is at home. In fact, Harry, I’m afraid for your life! And now, if you have any regard for me, make the best arrangement with the work you can, and be off. I’ll tell him that I sent you on business of my own, and I am going to write a letter for you to carry. It’s the only s
afe way. He has so many ways in which he can provoke and insult you, that, at last, you may say or do something that will give him occasion against you; and I think he is determined to drive you to this.”

  “Isn’t this provoking, now? isn’t this outrageous!” said Harry between his teeth, looking down, “that everything must be left, and all because I haven’t the right to stand up like a man, and protect you and yours!”

  “It is a pity! it is a shame!” said Nina. “But, Harry, don’t stop to think upon it; do go!” She laid her hand softly on his. “For my sake, now, be good — be good!” The room where they were standing had long windows, which opened, like those of the parlor, on the veranda, and commanded a view of a gravel walk bordered with shrubbery. As Harry stood, hesitating, he started at seeing Lisette come tripping up the walk, balancing on her head a basket of newly ironed muslins and linens. Her trim little figure was displayed in a close-fitting gown of blue, a snowy handkerchief crossed upon her bust, and one rounded arm raised to steady the basket upon her head. She came tripping forward, with her usual airy motion, humming a portion of a song; and attracted, at the same moment, the attention of Tom Gordon and of her husband.

  “‘Pon my word, if that isn’t the prettiest concern!” said Tom, as he started up and ran down the walk to meet her.

  “Good-morning, my pretty girl!” he said.

  “Good-norning, sir,” returned Lisette in her usual tone of gay cheerfulness.

  “Pray, who do you belong to, my pretty little puss! I think I’ve never seen you on this place.”

  “Please, sir, I’m Harry’s wife.”

  “Indeed! you are, hey? Devilish good taste he has!” said he, laying his hand familiarly on her shoulder.

  The shoulder was pulled away, and Lisette moved rapidly on to the other side of the path, with an air of vexation which made her look rather prettier.

 

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