THE JEWEL IN THE MATRIX
When I awoke from a few hours of deep and exhausted sleep I found my
room fast filling with the strenuosities of the day. In fact, I opened
them upon Harriet Henderson, up, dressed and briskly doing. She had a
large pasteboard box with her and the minute I brushed repose from my
eyes she opened it and held up for my inspection a very short tulle
garment besprinkled with tiny silk rosebuds, along with a bonnet and
other wee but distinctly feminine paraphernalia to match. A basket
adorned with a huge bow of tulle came from another box and I was forced
to voice my admiration with the greatest vigor.
"How I'll ever keep from eating Sue up before she gets to the altar, I
can't see," said Harriet, as she held the wee frock for a second against
her breast. It hurts me to the quick of my own breast to see Harriet's
eyes when she broods over Sue. I don't see how she is going to live
life always as hungry as she is now.
"I suppose I might just as well wear my tennis things, because the
guests will be already as completely enraptured as is humanly possible
before my entry upon the scene of action of my own wedding," I said, as
I sat up and took the small bonnet in my own hand. "It is too bad that
Jessie and Letitia should worry themselves over my own wedding frock, if
Susan is--" I was just saying when Nell arrived beside my bed with the
Suckling in the very act of obtaining her early luncheon from the
maternal fount. The nurse has always had to follow Nell about with her
successive hungry offspring.
"Girls, I really don't know what to do, but young Charlotte has given
every single presentable garment that Jimmy possessed to different
unclothed children in the Settlement, who were needed in the pageant,
and Mark and Billy are laughing at her, while Jimmy is howling. I just
ran in to see Harriet a minute and ask her if she--"
"Yes, Jimmie's wedding garments came home from Mrs. Burns' yesterday and
I'll lend them to you just to spite those men, who are simply ruining
Charlotte by the day," said Harriet, as Nell handed her the replete
Suckling wrong end foremost and picked up the small tulle bonnet with a
gurgle of maternal rapture that was in some ways as young as the happy
gurgle that the Suckling gave as she settled into Harriet's dependable
arms for her morning nap. Harriet cradled her against her own round,
firm breast and for a second brooded then joined in Nell's rapture over
the garments for the bedizening of wee Susan.
"If Harriet didn't dress and discipline my children I feel sure they
would be found naked in a reform school," Nell said, with a happy and
careless gratitude. There are some women to whom life is incidental and
maternity the most casual adventure of all. The happy-go-lucky variety
are apt to produce just such children as Charlotte or young James or
Susan, and it is well if into their young lives there comes the hungry
woman with a brooding mission.
"Young Charlotte will probably be the first woman governor of the state
and--" Harriet was saying with a laugh when Letitia and Jessie arrived
precipitately. Letitia had a parcel which contained a lingerie garment
of mine, whose lace and embroidery and ribbon combined would have
enraptured most women, and Jessie carried in her hand a package of
belated wedding cards. They were followed closely by Mammy, who was in
turn followed by the meek Sally. Mammy's address was delivered to me
first.
"Git up quick, honey; the men folks has begun on the second round of
waffles and they'll be calling for you. The day is on its shanks and
a-going," she admonished, while Sallie turned on my bath.
"They are having breakfast out in the garden and the day is perfect. Do
you want blue or pink ribbons in this Valenciennes set, Charlotte?" said
Letitia, as she seated herself on the foot of my bed and drew out a
ribbon bag whose contents were of many colors.
"A fashionable wedding is a white lie; you invite all the people you
especially want to stay away," sighed Jessie, as she seated herself at
my desk and lighted a cigarette, at which Mammy rolled her black eyes
and departed with her nose in the air.
And while they all chatted over the sealing of my fate I arose and had
my toilet made in my dressing room, in full hearing of the discussions
about the best groupings of bridesmaids and the horror at the count of
the cases of wine Billy had ordered from the city for the dinner to the
groomsmen the night before the wedding.
"I adore Mark seven-tenths full, but I don't like to endure the end of
the jag next morning," laughed Nell, as she began to put ribbons into
the bodkins for Letitia. I saw Harriet give her a long look from under
her half-lowered eyelashes as she hugged the Suckling closer to her
breast. Billy had told Harriet and me casually a few nights before that
"old Mark's drinking to a double-decker liver and a sidestep in his
heart."
"Oh, gentlemen always drink in moderation. I never worry over Cliff,"
said Letitia complacently, as she tied a decorative shoulder knot.
"You expect to give him a daily dose of three drops on a lump of sugar,
Letitia?" asked Harriet, as she exchanged glances with Jessie. One
evening last week Jessie and Harriet had motored Cliff in from the Club
just in time to save him from going over the riffles and Letitia had
been dancing with him without noticing his staggers.
"There, that is the very last stitch to be taken on your trousseau,
Charlotte," said Letitia, as she laid down the filmy garment she had
been adorning with blue bowknots. "Press it, Sallie, and lay it with the
rest of the set in the second tray of the medium-sized trunk. You can
lock it and give me the key."
"I just can't stand it, Charlotte," said Jessie to me in a low voice, as
I came from the hands of the skillful Sallie and stood beside the window
next to the desk. "You are all I have got and only you--you understand.
I can't give you up. I'm frightened."
"Hush--so am I," I answered her, as my hand gripped her shoulder under
her heavy linen frock until I felt it must bruise it. Then I turned to
the others, collected them and descended to finish breakfast with the
Poplars' guests.
Never a more radiantly beautiful morning had spread its loveliness over
the Harpeth Valley than the one I found out in the garden that
twenty-seventh day of September, the gala day in the history of
Goodloets. Huge white clouds drifted back and forth in a deep blue sky
and they were rosy at times with the sunlight, but from some of the
largest little tongues of lightning darted, while others were lit by
what seemed to be an internal glow of fire. Cool winds, perfumed with
the harvests and the ripening orchards and the vineyards out in the
valley, rustled in the treetops and flaunted in the vines. The ardent
sun seemed to be drawing from the bosom of the earth a hot mist which
lay over the town like a filmy bridal veil, only stirred gently by the
vagrant veering gusts of wind. Nature seemed to be holding herself in
leash and only breathing upon the earth gently, as if to stir some
latent lushness into autumnal activity.
"A perfect Harpeth day for Mr. Jeffries," said the Governor, as he came
from his seat at the table to greet the girls and me. The rest of the
masculine breakfasters followed and I could see from the devastation of
the table that they had all breakfasted well and to repletion. I also
detected the worthless Jefferson, whom Mr. Goodloe had evidently loaned
to his parents for the occasion, lift father's full glass of julep and
drain it with one gulp, grab the half glass that Nickols had left, gulp
it and begin on the finger or so in Billy's tumbler before Dabney could
forcibly but quietly restrain him. In fact, I felt there would have
been a riot among my servitors if Mr. Goodloe had not stepped aside and
spoken a low word to Jefferson, which sent him busily at the table with
his tray.
And from that moment Nickols' triumphant procession of inspection of
Goodloets began. Mr. Jeffries stood in the middle of the reincarnated
old garden, looked for a long time at the Poplars, which was like a
green encrusted gem with its old purple red brick under the vines,
glanced again and again at the chapel with its weathered stone that
stood beyond the silver-leafed graybeards, then let his eye wander down
the broad elm-bordered main street past the courthouse and past the
Settlement to the river bending around it all.
"Money couldn't build anything like it, Powers," he said to Nickols at
his side. "Time and gentle living have formed it as a jewel is made in a
matrix. I was born in a mining camp, but I want you to start something
like it all for my great grandchildren to live in. How many generations
will it take?"
"Give me five years, Mr. Jeffries," laughed Nickols in answer. "Greg
Goodloe's great great grandfather and mine fought off the Indians from
a stockade which stood where his chapel does now, but a year of modern
life about represents a generation of pioneer endeavor."
"Not too fast, youngster, not too fast," said Mr. Jeffries, and I saw
him exchange a grave glance with father. "What we Americans must have is
stabilizers now that we have annihilated time. Without the discovery of
something of that sort we will hurl along to destruction. What say you,
Mr. Goodloe?"
"We have the same 'covert of wings' that David used when things spun too
fast for him," answered Mr. Goodloe with the jeweled radiance that
always came from his face when he spoke of his faith even casually.
"Only 'where there is no vision the people perish,' and a people who
invent flying machines and hold international law to account have
vision. We don't know how much we've got, but it'll save us."
"After the material glass through which we see darkly is completely
smashed for us," said father, with a curious sternness coming into his
face that made me wonder. "But we must take Mr. Jeffries for a nearer
inspection of our metropolis, be with Mrs. Sproul in time for luncheon
and then help Mr. Goodloe open the institute of learning for young
Goodloets."
In the motor cars parked before the tall gate of the Poplars all of the
guests embarked for their review of the beauties of Goodloets. Nickols
remained behind them while the half sober but skillful Jefferson
wrestled with a slight tire trouble of his slim blue racer. For a few
minutes we were alone in the center of the wonderful garden, which had
never seemed so lovely as upon the day in which it had fulfilled its own
and Nickols' destiny.
"To-day has brought just what I have longed for, have worked for and
waited for, the commission for the spending of millions of dollars to
make a little corner of the earth beautiful. Not a bad religion, that,"
said Nickols, as he told me that Jeffries had spoken a few words of
decided business to him as he had packed him into Mr. Cockrell's car
with father and Mr. Goodloe. "We'll take a honeymoon wander on the other
side, as far from the machine guns as possible, and then I'll come home
to begin my masterpiece." And as Nickols spoke his wonderful eyes
glowed as he looked out at Paradise Ridge as if he were gazing into a
radiant future--perhaps he saw a city not made with hands and did
not--recognize it. "I see it all," he said, and put his arm around me
while we started down the front walk as Jefferson pressed the horn to
signal the readiness of the tire.
"I'm too busy to go with you, but I'll meet you at Mrs. Sproul's," a
sudden impulse made me say, for I had intended until that instant to
accompany him.
"A man can't eat his bride and have a trousseau, too," he laughed, as he
drove off rapidly, leaving me standing by the old gate watching him.
Then I turned and slowly walked out into the garden and down to the old
graybeards. And seated on one of the grass mats I found the reason I had
unconsciously been drawn back. Martha was waiting for me there.
"Why, Martha," I exclaimed, startled without understanding just why. "I
might have gone and not known you were waiting. Why didn't you come and
tell me you were here?"
"I couldn't--I found I couldn't," she answered me, looking up into my
face with her strange, sad eyes. "I--I suppose I just came to peep in
on you like I did to the coming-out party." She laughed softly, with a
note of self-scorn in her voice.
"Is anything the matter with--with Sonny?" I asked quickly, again
unconsciously using the name for the Stray that her tenderness had given
him. Her white face and desperate manner frightened me.
"No, he's dressed in one of Jimmy Morgan's old suits and he is going to
be taken from me this afternoon forever," she answered with the note of
bitterness deepening.
"But you want him to go to school, don't you, Martha?" I asked
patiently, as I sat down on a mat beside her. I spoke to her as one
speaks to the limited intelligence of a child and I was slightly
impatient at her distress.
"He asked me yesterday why everybody called him Stray and if it did mean
Stranger like Charlotte said, and if he would always be called that or
have an everyday name like Jimmy. Soon he'll know and then I'll lose him
as I'm losing everything else."
"Why won't you let me help you to--to begin over again?" I asked her,
this time with less patience. "Why have you--you locked yourself away
from me?"
"I can't--I won't ever tell you. I must go back, now I've seen you
in--in your happiness. But I don't hate you--I never have." And as she
spoke Martha rose and began to walk rapidly away from me.
"Oh, please don't go, Martha," I said. "In just three days I'll be going
away for a long time, you know, and I want to help you in some way
before I go. You ought to let me, and it worries me that you don't, now
of all times," and as I put my selfish plea for ease to my conscience,
something that was hot and rebellious made me want to stop the woman who
was hurrying away from me.
"I won't, I won't make you unhappy--but I must go. I must! I'll--I'll be
happy--and good now--if _you'll_ only be happy. Good-bye!" And as she
called back at me over her shoulder, Martha ran from me down through the
hedge and into the door of the chapel, which always, night and day, rain
and storm, stood slightly ajar. A queer pain smote me to see that she
had run from me into the only place in all the broad, smiling Harpeth
Valley where I could not--or would not, follow her. And the sanctuary
that she sought was for every man, woman or child who wanted it--only I
could not and would not seek it.
"'The covert of wings,'" I whispered to myself, as I went down the
street to Mrs. Sproul's as rapidly as possible to be rid of my own
company. As I repeated the words that the parson had used to Mr.
Jeffries I noticed one great white cloud with a dark center flash fire
into another, to a great crashing and rumbling. "I wonder if it is
really going to storm," I speculated gloomily, as I turned into the
Sproul gate, but the brilliant sunshine seemed to fling me a dazzling
denial from every petal of the white clematis that wreathed itself
across the front porch, under which Mrs. Sproul, arrayed in all the
midday magnificence of good form, sat and waited for her guests. Mrs.
Cockrell sat beside her and they were delighted to see me and demanded
happiness from me which it was hard for me to give from the depths that
had been stirred by my strange interview with Martha, to which I felt I
ought to have a key, but could not find it anywhere.