Room by room, closet by closet, Mrs. Tolliver and Lily put the big house
in order. They even set Hennery to cleaning the cellar, and themselves
went into the attic where they poked about among old boxes and trunks
filled with clothing and photographs, bits of yellow lace and brocade
for which no use had ever been found. There were photographs of Lily and
Irene as little girls in tarlatan dresses much ornamented with
artificial pansies and daisies; pictures of John Shane on the wrought
iron piazza, surrounded by men who were leaders in state politics; dim
photographs of Julia Shane in an extremely tight riding habit with a
bustle, and a hat set well forward over the eyes; pictures of the annual
family gatherings at Christmas time with all its robust members standing
in the snow outside the house at Cypress Hill. There were even pictures
of Mrs. Tolliver’s father, Jacob Barr, on the heavy hack he sometimes
rode, and one of him surrounded by his eight vigorous children.
From the sentimental Mrs. Tolliver, this collection wrenched a tempest
of sighs. To Lily she said. “It’s like raising the dead. I just can’t
believe the changes that have occurred.”
The arrival of Lily brought a certain repose to the household. The
mulatto woman who behaved so sulkily under the shifting dominations of
the powerful Mrs. Tolliver and the anemic Irene, began slowly to regain
her old respectful attitude. It appeared that she honored Miss Lily with
the respect which servants have for those who understand them. Where the
complaints of Irene and the stormy commands of Mrs. Tolliver had wrought
nothing, the amiable smiles and the interested queries of Lily
accomplished miracles. For a time the household regained the air of
order and dignity which it had known in the days of Julia Shane’s
domination. Lily was unable to explain her success. After all, there
was nothing new in the process. Servants had always obeyed her in the
same fashion. She charmed them whether they were her own or not.
Although her arrival worked many a pleasant change in the house and
appeared to check for a time the inward sweeping waves of melancholy,
there was one thing which she was unable, either consciously or
unconsciously, to alter in any way. This was the position of Irene. The
sister remained an outsider. It was as if the old dwelling were a
rooming house and she were simply a roomer, detached, aloof ... a roomer
in whom no one was especially interested. She was, in fact, altogether
incomprehensible. Lily, to be sure, made every effort to change the
condition of affairs; but her efforts, it appeared, only drove her
sister more deeply into the shell of taciturnity and indifference. The
first encounter of the two sisters, for all the kisses and warmth of
Lily, was an awkward and soulless affair to which Irene submitted
listlessly. So apparent was the strain of the encounter that Mrs.
Tolliver, during the course of the morning’s work, found occasion to
refer to it.
“You mustn’t mind Irene’s behavior,” she said. “She has been growing
queerer and queerer.” And raising her eyebrows significantly she
continued, “You know, sometimes I think she’s a little cracked. Religion
sometimes affects people in that way, especially the sort of popery
Irene practises.”
And then she told of finding Irene, quite by accident, prostrate before
the pink-gilt image of the Virgin, her hair all disheveled, her eyes
streaming with tears.
Once Mrs. Tolliver had reconciled herself to Lily’s secret, her entire
manner toward her cousin suffered a change. The awe which had once
colored her behavior disappeared completely. She was no longer the
provincial, ignorant of life outside the Town, face to face with an
experienced woman of the world. She was one mother with an understanding
for another. Before many days had passed the pair worked and gossiped
side by side, not only as old friends might have gossiped but as old
friends who are quite the same age, whose interests are identical. In
her manner there was no evidence of any strangeness save in the
occasional moments when she would cease working abruptly to regard her
lovely cousin with an expression of complete bewilderment, which did not
vanish until Lily, attracted by her cousin’s steady gaze, looked up and
caused Mrs. Tolliver to blush as if it were herself who had sinned.