The house was done. My furnishings were delivered. There were curtains
to make, many feminine touches were needed to settle the rooms. Sarah
did all that she could, but Dorothy Clayton had come. She was just a
year younger than I, and of charming appearance and manner. We had
become friends almost at once. She was with me daily, as we put the
house in order for occupancy. Reverdy thought that Sarah must be
apprised of what had happened to Zoe. She was terribly wounded and
distressed. But she approved of my course in keeping Zoe with me.
On my birthday, June 18th, we had the housewarming. I gave a party,
inviting all the young people from Jacksonville and the country around:
those that I knew and those that I didn't--all but Lamborn. The omission
would be notable, but I could not invite him. The matter was promptly
gossiped about. Lamborn himself was stirred to talk now. He made the
most detestable references to Zoe and me; and I was told of them. At the
party Douglas drew me aside and confided to me that Lamborn was in an
ugly rage.
Douglas was quite the life of my party. He mingled freely with all the
company, making himself charming to every one. He danced with every
girl present, and more than once with Dorothy. His short figure gave him
a certain comical appearance. But he was graceful and adept at the
dances. And his wit and good humor kept every one in high spirits.
Reverdy, too, participated in the joy of the occasion with generous
enthusiasm. Altogether, we were a merry crowd. I had strengthened my
hold upon the affections of the community. For the time I had forgotten
my embarrassing troubles. They came back to my mind after the guests had
departed. And there was something else to disturb me. Dorothy had gained
more than my passing interest.
Work was now my salvation, and I had plenty to do. I had learned in this
year a vast amount about running a farm; and I was blessed with
excellent health. But meanwhile Zoe! It was not long before it was
certain that she was to bear a child; and it would not be many months or
even weeks when she could not walk out or go to town without betraying
her secret to the world. But then what should the explanation be? Should
I tell what I knew? Should I remain silent?
Except for engrossing duties, with time to think and brood, I should
have been thrown into tortures with the possibilities. There was always
the chance, too, that Zoe in the desperation of the moment might run
away from me. She had the English blood of my father in her veins,
venturesome, perhaps reckless. Perhaps it was well that she had no
control of the profits of the farm which had thus far been allotted to
her, nor her share of the ready money which my father had left. I had
had Reverdy appointed her guardian, making myself accountable to him. I
deemed this the fitting thing; and I was also brought to do it because I
might be absent at times in the future when she would need money. But if
Zoe should run away what would become of her? The chance of her being
kidnapped and sold into slavery filled me with terror. Yet the days went
on without change.
Except that Sarah's boy was born! What a father Reverdy was! So
wondering and gentle. And he guarded Sarah like a lover and father in
one. Zoe was wild to see Sarah's boy; but that was out of the question
now. She wanted to deed some of her land to the boy, or better perhaps,
to Sarah. But she would have to wait until she became of age to do this.
The birth of Sarah's boy affected Zoe profoundly. She was now about two
months advanced in her own pregnancy. She was beginning to think of the
ordeal herself, of the fate of the child, what it was being born to....
What, indeed? I noticed that Zoe had hours of deep depression. Would it
not be best for me to have a woman in the house with Zoe? Mrs. Engle
knew of a widow about fifty whose husband had been killed in the War of
1812. And I got her, a Mrs. Brown. Zoe was now free of the housework.
She had a companion when I was away on my work about the farm. And I
felt relieved. But my mind and heart were full of problems. There was
always Zoe! There was always Lamborn, skulking in the shadows of my
speculations. How would I unravel this tangle with him?
Then there was Dorothy. Some of the talk must reach her eventually. It
might come to her as a smudge upon me. Then I could not expect to
continue my attentions to her without explanations. How could I go into
explanations with Dorothy? But even if Dorothy only knew that Zoe was my
sister, what would she think of me? Could she have an interest in a man
with a family relationship of this sort? Could Dorothy, bred in
Tennessee, look with favor upon my attentions? Had Reverdy and Sarah
kept this relationship from Dorothy? Had some one else told her? But if
she had not found these circumstances a reason for turning from me could
she tolerate the rest of my difficulties?
And one night I came home to find Zoe in bed. She was in great pain and
very weak. She was scarcely able to talk. She took my hand and pressed
it, only saying: "I have done something for you. If I die, it will be
best anyway. If I live it will be all right. I could not bear to bring
you such shame and trouble. Don't worry ... don't."
Mrs. Brown came in and stood by the bed. She did not speak. She looked
at me as if to say that sometimes desperate things have to be done. I
understood. I acquiesced. Did Mrs. Brown do it? I never asked. Zoe's
sufferings were very great. All this for Lamborn's drunken madness. And
then Zoe began to mend. She was out of her difficulty. She became
herself in a few weeks. But her spirit had changed. She was wiser, more
self-possessed. She was more a woman. A great load had been lifted from
me; yet I now faced a new Zoe. What would this mature Zoe do to me?