GRAN’THER HEARS FROM EVA.
During the winter that Eva had spent in the insane asylum at Weston,
changes had come to the old home, Stony Ledge.
Grandfather Groves had never been as well and strong as before the
night of the Hallowe’en tragedy, although fortune’s fickle wheel had
begun to turn in his favor.
The long-hoped-for drill had been put down on his rocky farm by
capitalists of his section to bore for oil. If the greasy fluid spouted
as expected, old Mr. Groves would be a rich man.
Once the excitement would have thrilled his heart with joyful
expectancy, but now it awakened only slight interest, although the
twins could not talk of anything else.
Said Patty joyously:
“If we strike oil, gran’ther, mayn’t we move down to Clarksburg, to
live in a nice house? I should admire to live in the city, and see and
be seen!”
Lydia added:
“We should want fine clothes and jewelry, too, and to go to the
theatres every night, and money to buy chocolates every day. Oh, I
shall be so happy! And what if we could afford to go to Niagara Falls,
the dream of my life!” she clapped her hands in delight, while Miss
Ruttencutter chimed in:
“The dream of my life is to have a brown silk frock, with jet trimmin’s
onto it; an’ a brown velvet bonnet, all covered in green feathers; an’
a seal plush cape to go with ’em. An’ if I had a ch’ice to go anywheres
on the kyars, I’d ruther go to Charleston an’ see the gov’ner an’ the
legislatour, an’ all the big men o’ our State.”
“A fig for the big men, unless I could marry one, and I don’t know as
I care so much about that! I’ve heard tell that all these celebrated
men have to get old before they get famous, and I don’t want any old
man, thank you, but a handsome young one!” cried Patty. “If I could go
to any grand place, ’twould be New York, where all the poor girls have
romantic adventures and marry grand swells!”
“Pooh, that’s only in novels, Pat!” laughed Lydia.
“I’d take my chances on its being true!” Patty retorted confidently,
with a glance at her glowing brunette charms in the little cracked
mirror.
Thus they beguiled the long, snowy days of the dreary winter with
hopeful anticipations, but with Gran’ther Groves it was quite
different. To the two girls life was in its hopeful spring, but his in
the sere and yellow leaf.
And the tragedy of Hallowe’en had added years to his age in a night.
The breakdown of that night had left him nervous and ill; too ill to go
to the grave with Terry, when two days later they bore him solemnly to
his long repose in the family burial ground on top of the hill, from
whence the granite headstones of the family could be seen far in the
distance shining in the sun.
Gran’ther could only sit by the window with a neighbor for company and
watch the solemn funeral train driving away with the hoped-for prop of
his old age hidden away under the black pall, and his heart sank with
grief and despair, for his two best beloved grandchildren, Terry and
Eva, were now gone from him forever--Terry to the lonesome grave; Eva,
as he doubted not, to her rich father in New York, where she would have
all the luxuries of life, except the love of her old grandfather, he
thought, arguing to himself that no one else could ever love her as
well as he had done before her sin turned his love to hate.
All the neighborhood, as well as himself, believed that Eva was indeed
in New York.
There were three exceptions--the ones who had secretly appropriated the
money given to Eva for her trip; but they kept their own counsel.
They sometimes wondered where the young girl had gone, and dreaded lest
she should come back and be forgiven by the weak old man; but they
remained as ignorant as any of her whereabouts until two weeks later
old Sam Brown dismounted from his bay mare at their gate, and stalking
into the warm kitchen, announced without preamble that Eva was at his
house, mad as a March hare, and he was going to send her to Weston.
“’Cause how I’ve had two doctors setting on the case, and they both
pernounce her crazy, poor little thing, and though not violent now, she
may git so any time, and it’s better to let the State take care of her,
unless you folkses want her back here!” he said pointedly.
“Oh, why did you blurt it out before gran’ther? ’Tis so dreadful, we
didn’t want him to know!” frowned Patty. But she was too late. The old
man had heard all.
He could not speak; he only gazed at his visitor with glazing eyes and
a horrified face, while Patty, emboldened by his silence, added angrily:
“No, indeed, we don’t want her back here, she who caused our poor Terry
to be murdered for her badness! Gran’ther drove her away, and he won’t
never take her back. He hates her like poison! You can send her off to
Weston to-morrow. We don’t want no crazy people at Stony Ledge!”
Cousin Tab and Lydia backed her up in her declaration so vehemently
that the old farmer regretted he had ridden nine miles through nipping
cold, on his errand of mercy.
But yet he thought Gran’ther Groves ought to have leave to express
himself, so turning to him he said:
“Do you ’low your women folkses to speak for you, gran’ther, ’ithout a
word for yourself?”
Gran’ther Groves mumbled something in a voice of agony, but his words
were indistinguishable because his tongue had suddenly begun to swell
in his mouth and his eyes were rolling wildly about in their sockets,
presenting a ghastly sight.
Patty stamped her foot at Mr. Brown in a towering rage, hissing:
“You silly old fool, let him alone! Don’t you see you’re tormenting him
into another of his awful fits, and may be the cause of his death with
your meddling?”
“Lordy, I never meant to rile you wimmen folkses up! ’Cause I
understand that poor little Eva’s disgrace goes agin’ her with you all!
But I thought as it might be diff’runt with that ole sinner that turned
her out o’ doors to freeze and starve to death! I had a mind he might
be repenting by now, but if he lets you wimmen folkses speak for him,
I’ve done with meddling, as you call it. So good-by, and may God reward
you all according to your evil works!” testily answered Brown, striding
toward the door.
But before he reached it he turned his head unwillingly at sound of a
blood-curdling groan from gran’ther, and saw him falling from his chair
in a fit, as Patty had foreboded.
It was only Christian charity to run back to help them, but Miss
Ruttencutter said severely:
“It will jest make him ten times wuss to come to hisself an’ find you
here! He would ricolleck it all ag’in in a minute! You kin help us more
by going for Doc Binks than by staying.”
At this curt dismissal Farmer Brown bounced violently out of the
kitchen and into the saddle, digging the astonished mare sharply with
his spurs as a vent for his angry feelings, sputtering as he galloped
to the physician’s office:
“I’ll be dinged if them wimmen has any better manners nor a hog! I swan
it will be a month o’ Sundays before I set foot in that house again!
Seems as if ole gran’ther must be afeared to say his soul’s his own
before that sassy pack, as why did he sit there glum as a dog, and let
’em lay down the law for him, by gosh?”
Doctor Binks was out, so he left his message on the slate and hurried
to the nearest tavern to refresh himself and the mare before returning
to Goody with the news of his rebuff at Stony Ledge--a rebuff that made
them enemies to the Groves family forever after.
And it did not occur to either of the good old souls that gran’ther,
instead of being under the dominion of his womenkind, and afraid to
speak, had struggled with might and main to have his say, and been
totally unable to make himself understood.
“So she will have to go,” Goody said, looking pitifully at poor
demented Eva, yet not feeling that her duty required her to keep her
when her own folks cast her out.
So she had the commission on lunacy report the case to the proper
authorities, and a few days later a ward attendant from Weston was sent
to take charge of Eva and convey her to the asylum.
Poor little soul, she knew no one or nothing. She went meekly with the
woman on the short journey of a few hours, and the heartless women at
Stony Ledge breathed freer when they saw in the country newspaper that
she had gone.
As for Granfather Groves, he remained ill in bed for a week--so ill
they would not let him talk, though they understood but too well the
mute pain in the fading blue eyes.
At last he could sit up, feeble and tottery, in his old armchair in the
warm corner, with the big dog’s head between his knees; and then they
all three agreed that it was time to let him ask questions and have it
out with him once for all.
“I mind what Neighbor Brown had to say about little Eva being at his
house, and crazy, and all that. And did they send her to Weston?” he
asked, with painful slowness, so that Cousin Tab ejaculated spitefully:
“Massy, how slow an’ poky you talk, gran’ther! Slow as cold merlasses!
Yes, Eva was violent crazy, an’ they sent her to Weston. She was sick,
too, they say, and will die soon. And now me an’ the other girls is
plum down resolved that we don’t want to hear even her name spoken
under this roof ag’in, seeing it’s insulting to decent wimmin to be
named in the same breath!”