THE EXPEDITION TO LURAY
Toward eleven o'clock one morning, the Colonel, Radnor and I were
established in lounging chairs in the shade of a big catalpa tree on the
lawn. It was a warm day, and Rad and I were just back from a tramp to
the upper pasture--a full mile from the house. We were addressing
ourselves with considerable zest to the frosted glasses that Solomon had
just placed on the table, when we became aware of the sound of galloping
hoofs, and a moment later Polly Mathers and her sorrel mare, Tiger
Lilly, appeared at the end of the sunflecked lane. An Irish setter
romped at her side, and the three of them made a picture. The horse's
shining coat, the dog's silky hair and Polly's own red gold curls were
almost of a color. I believe the little witch had chosen the two on
purpose. In her dark habit and mannish hat, with sparkling cheeks and
laughing eyes, she was as pretty an apparition as ever enhanced a May
morning. She waved her crop gaily and rode toward us across the lawn.
"Howdy!" she called, in a droll imitation of the mountain dialect.
"Ain't you-uns guine to ask me to 'light a while, an' set a bit, an'
talk a spell?"
Radnor's face had flushed quickly as he perceived who the rider was, but
he held himself stiffly in the background while the Colonel and I did
the honors. It was the first time, I know, that Polly and Rad had met
since the night she refused to dance with him; and her appearance could
only be interpreted as a desire to make amends.
She sprang lightly to the ground, turned Tiger Lilly loose to graze
about the lawn, and airily perched herself on the arm of a chair. There
was nothing in her manner, at least, to suggest that her relations with
any one of us were strained. After a few moments of neighborly gossip
with the Colonel and me--Rad was monosyllabic and remote--she arrived
at her errand. Some friends from Savannah were stopping at the Hall on
their way to the Virginia hot springs, and, as is usual, when strangers
visit the valley, they were planning an expedition to Luray Cave. The
cave was on the other side of the mountains about ten miles from
Four-Pools. Since I had not yet visited it (that was at least the reason
she gave) she had come to ask the three of us to join the party on the
following day.
Rad was sulky at first, and rather curtly declined on the ground that he
had to attend to some business. But Polly scouted his excuse, and added
significantly that Jim Mattison had not been asked. He accepted this
mark of repentance with a pleased flush, and before she rode away, he
had become his former cheerful self again. The Colonel also demurred on
the ground that he was getting too old for such diversions, but Polly
laid her hands upon his shoulders and coaxed him into acquiescence--even
a mummy must have unbent before such persuasion. As a matter of fact
though, the Colonel was only too pleased with his invitation. It
flattered him to be included with the young people, and he was
immensely fond of Polly.
It struck me suddenly as I watched her, how like she was to that other
girl, of eighteen years before. There danced in Polly's eyes the same
eager joy of life that vitalized the face of the portrait over the
mantelpiece upstairs. The resemblance for a moment was almost startling;
I believe the same thought had come to Colonel Gaylord. The old man's
eyes dwelt upon her with a sadly wistful air; and I like to feel that it
was of Nannie he was thinking.
Radnor and I had been invited to a dance that same evening at a
neighboring country house, but when the time came, I begged off on the
plea of wishing to rest for the ride the next morning. The real reason,
I fancy, was that I too was suffering from a touch of Radnor's trouble;
and, since I had no chance of winning her, it was the part of wisdom to
keep out of hearing of Polly's laugh. In any case, I went to bed and to
sleep, while Rad went to the party, and I have never known exactly what
happened that night.
I rose early the next morning, and as I went down stairs I saw Solomon
crawling around on his hands and knees on the parlor floor, collecting
the remnants of a French clock which had stood on the mantelpiece.
"How did that clock come to be broken?" I asked a trifle sharply,
thinking I had caught him in a bad piece of carelessness.
"Cayn't say, sah," Solomon returned, rising on his knees and looking at
me mournfully. "I specs ole Marsa been chastisin' young Marsa again.
It's powe'ful destructive on de brick-yuh-brack."
I went on out of doors, wondering sadly if Radnor could have been
drinking, and accusing myself for not having gone to the party and kept
him straight. It was evident at breakfast that something serious had
happened between him and his father. The Colonel appeared unusually
grave, and Rad, after a gruff "good morning," sat staring at his plate
in a dogged silence. Throughout the meal he scarcely so much as
exchanged a glance with his father. I tried to talk as if I noticed
nothing; and in the course of the somewhat one-sided conversation,
happened to mention our proposed trip to Luray. Rad returned that he had
visited the cave a good many times and did not care about going. I was
puzzled at this, for I knew that the cave was not the chief attraction,
but I discreetly dropped the subject and shortly after we rose from the
table.
As I left the room I saw the Colonel walk over and lay his hand on
Radnor's arm.
"You will change your mind and go, my boy," he said.
But Rad shook the hand off roughly and turned away. As I went on out to
the stables to give orders about the horses, I felt in anything but the
proper spirits for a day of merry-making. However much the Colonel may
have been to blame in their quarrel of the night before--and the French
clock told its own story--still I could not help but feel that Rad
should have borne with him more patiently. The scene I had just
witnessed in the dining-room made me miserable. The Colonel was a proud
man and apology came hard for him, his son might at least have met him
half way.
Going upstairs to my room a few minutes later, I caught a glimpse
through the open door, of someone standing before the mantelpiece.
Thinking it was Radnor waiting to consult me, I hurried forward and
reached the threshold before I realized that it was the Colonel. He was
standing with folded arms before the picture, his eyes, gleaming from
under beetling brows, were devouring it hungrily, line by line. His face
was set rigidly with a look--whether of sorrow or loneliness or remorse,
I do not know; but I do know that it was the saddest expression I have
ever seen on any human face. It was as if, in a single illuminating
flash, he had looked into his own soul, and seen the ruin that his
ungoverned pride and passion had wrought against those he loved the
most.
So absorbed had he been with his thoughts, that he had not heard my
step. I turned and stole away, realizing suddenly that he was an old
man, broken, infirm; that his life with its influence for good or evil
was already at an end; he could never change his character now, no
matter how keenly he might realize his defects. Poor little Nannie's
wilfulness was at last forgiven, but the forgiveness was fifteen years
too late. Why could not that moment of insight have come earlier to
Colonel Gaylord, have come in time to save him from his mistakes?
I passed out of doors again, pondering somewhat bitterly the exigencies
of human life. The bright spring morning with its promise of youth and
joy seemed jarringly out of tune. The beauty was but surface deep, I
told myself pessimistically; underneath it was a cruel world. Before me
in the garden path, a jubilant robin was pulling an unhappy angle worm
from the ground, and a little farther on, under a blossoming apple tree,
the kitchen cat was breakfasting on a baby robin. The double spectacle
struck me as significant of life. I was casting about for some
philosophical truths to fit it, when my revery was interrupted by a
shout from Radnor.
I turned to find the horses--three of them--waiting at the portico
steps. Rad was going then after all. He and his father had evidently
patched up some sort of a truce, but I soon saw that it was only a
truce. The two avoided crossing eyes, and as we rode along they talked
to me instead of to each other.
The party met at Mathers Hall. The plan was for us to ride to Luray that
morning, spend most of the afternoon there, and then return to the Hall
for a supper and dance in the evening. The elder ladies took the
carriage, while the rest of us went on horseback, a couple of servants
following in the buckboard with the luncheon. Mose, bare-feet,
linsey-woolsey and all, was brought along to act as guide and he was
fairly purring with contentment at the importance it gave him over the
other negroes. It seems that he had been in the habit of finding his way
around in the cave ever since he was a little shaver, and he knew the
route, Radnor told me, better than the professional guides. He knew it
so well, in fact, that the entire neighborhood was in the habit of
borrowing him whenever expeditions were being planned to Luray.
We left our horses at the village hotel, and after eating a picnic lunch
in the woods, set out to make the usual round of the cave. Luray has
since been lighted with electricity and laid out in cement walks, but
the time of which I am writing was before its exploitation by the
railroad, and the cavern was still in its natural state. Each of us
carried either candles or a torch, and the guides were supplied with
calcium lights which they touched off at intervals whenever there was
any special object of interest. This was the first cavern of any size
that I had ever visited and I was so taken up with examining the rock
formations and keeping my torch from burning my hands that I did not pay
much attention to the disposal of the rest of the party. It took over
two hours to make the round, and we must have walked about five miles.
What with the heavy damp air and the slippery path, I, for one, was glad
to get out into the sunshine again.
I joined the group about Polly Mathers and casually asked if she knew
where Radnor had gone.
"I haven't seen him for some time; I think he must have come out before
us," she replied. "And unless I am mistaken, Colonel Gaylord," she
added, turning to my uncle, "he left my coat on that broken column above
Crystal Lake. I am afraid that he isn't a very good cavalier."
The Colonel, I imagine, had been a very good cavalier in his own youth,
and I do not think that he had entirely outgrown it.
"I will repair his fault, Miss Polly," the old man returned with a
courtly bow, "and prove to you that the boy does not take after his
father in lack of gallantry."
"No, indeed, Colonel Gaylord!" Polly exclaimed. "I was only joking; I
shouldn't think of letting you go back after it. One of the servants can
get it."
I shortly after ran across Mose and sent him back for the coat, and the
incident was forgotten. We straggled back to the hotel in twos and
threes; the horses were brought out, and we got off amidst general
confusion.
I rode beside the carriage for a couple of miles exchanging courtesies
with Mrs. Mathers, and then galloped ahead to join the other riders. I
was surprised to see neither my uncle nor Radnor anywhere in sight, and
inquired as to their whereabouts.
"I thought they were riding with you," said Polly, wheeling to my side.
"You don't suppose," she asked quickly, "that the Colonel was foolish
enough to go back for my coat, and we've left him behind?"
One of the men laughed.
"He has a horse, Miss Polly, and he knows how to use it. I dare say,
even if we did leave him behind, that he can find his way home."
"I sent Mose back for the coat," I remarked. "The Colonel probably feels
that he has had enough frivolity for one day, and has preferred to ride
straight on to Four-Pools."
It occurred to me that Rad and his father had ridden home together to
make up their quarrel, and the reflection added considerably to my peace
of mind. I had felt vaguely uncomfortable over the matter all day, for I
knew that the old man was always miserable after a misunderstanding with
his son, and I strongly suspected that Radnor himself was far from
happy.
When we arrived at Mathers Hall, Polly slipped from her saddle and came
running up to me as I was about to dismount. She laid her hand on the
bridle and asked, in the sweetest way possible, if I would mind riding
back to the plantation to see if the Colonel were really there, as she
could not help feeling anxious about him. I noticed with a smile that
she made no comment on the younger man's defection, though I strongly
suspected that she was no less interested in that. I turned about and
galloped off again, willing enough to do her bidding, though I could not
help reflecting that it would have been just as easy for her, and
considerably easier for me, had she developed her anxiety a few miles
back.
When I reached the four corners where the road to Four-Pools branches
off from the valley turnpike, I saw the wagon coming with the two
Mathers negroes in it, but without any sign of Mose. I drew up and
waited for them.
"Hello, boys!" I called. "What's become of Mose?"
"Dat's moh 'n I can say, Mista Ahnold," one of the men returned. "We
waited foh him a powe'ful while, but it 'pears like he's 'vaporated. I
reckon he's took to de woods an' is gwine to walk home. Dat Cat-Eye
Mose, he's monstrous fond ob walkin'!"
I do not know why this incident should have aroused my own anxiety, but
I pushed on to the plantation with a growing feeling of uneasiness.
Nothing had been seen of either the Colonel or Mose, Solomon informed
me, but he added with an excited rolling of his eyes:
"Marse Rad, he come back nearly an hour ago an' stomp roun' like he mos'
crazy, an' den went out to de gahden."
I followed him and found him sitting in the summer house with his elbows
on his knees and his head in his hands.
"What's the matter, Rad?" I cried in alarm. "Has anything happened to
your father?"
He looked up with a start at the sound of my voice, and I saw that his
face was pale.
"My father?" he asked in a dazed way. "I left him in the cave. Why do
you ask?"
"He didn't come back with the rest of us, and Polly asked me to find
him."
"He's old enough to take care of himself," said Radnor without looking
up.
I hesitated a moment, uncertain what to do, and then turned back to the
stables to order a fresh horse. To my astonishment I found the
stable-men gathered in a group about Rad's mare, Jennie Loo. She was
dashed with foam and trembling, and appeared to be about used up. The
men fell back and eyed me silently as I approached.
"What's happened to the horse?" I cried. "Did she run away?"
One of the men "reckoned" that "Marse Rad" had been whipping her.
"Whipping her!" I exclaimed in dismay. It was unbelievable, for no one
as a rule was kinder to animals than Radnor; and as for his own Jennie
Loo, he couldn't have cared more for her if she had been a human being.
There was no mistaking it however. She was crossed and recrossed with
thick welts about the withers; it was evident that the poor beast had
been disgracefully handled.
Uncle Jake volunteered that Rad had galloped straight into the stable,
had dropped the bridle and walked off without a word; and he added the
opinion that a "debbil had done conjured him." I was inclined to agree.
There seemed to be something in the air that I did not understand, and
my anxiety for the Colonel suddenly rushed back fourfold. I wheeled
about and ordered a horse in an unnecessarily sharp tone, and the men
jumped to obey me.
It was just sunset as I mounted again and galloped down the lane. For
the second time that day I set out along the lonely mountain road
leading to Luray, but this time with a vague fear gripping at my heart.
Why had Radnor acted so strangely, I asked myself again and again. Could
it be connected with last night's quarrel? And where was the Colonel,
and where was Mose?