SETTLEMENTS.
On the following morning the guest was the first person astir at
Fairacres, not even excepting Cleena, who rose with the birds; and when
she opened her kitchen door, the sight of him pacing the grass-grown
driveway did not tend to put her in good humor.
But there was little danger of her breaking bounds again, in the matter
of behavior. A short talk had passed between her mistress and herself,
before they bade each other good night, that had not left the too
devoted servant very proud of her overzeal; and she now turned to her
stove to rattle off her indignation among its lids and grates. But she
kept "speakin' with herself," after her odd fashion, and her tone was
neither humble nor flattering.
"Arrah musha! The impidence of him! Hasn't he decency to wait till all's
over 'fore he struts about that gait? But, faith, an' I'll show him one
thing: that's as good a breakfast as ever he got in the old lady's time,
as one hears so much tell of."
Whereupon, with this praiseworthy ambition, a calm fell upon poor
Cleena's troubled spirit, and when, a couple of hours later, the family
assembled in the dining room, everybody was astonished at the feast
prepared; while all but the stranger knew that a week's rations had been
mortgaged to furnish that one meal. However, nobody made any comment,
though Mr. Wingate found in this show of luxury another explanation of
the Kayes' financial straits.
"Cuthbert will not be down this morning, Archibald. I hope thee rested
well. Hallam, will thee take thy father's place?"
Mrs. Kaye's manner, as she greeted her kinsman, betrayed little of what
must have been her real feeling toward him, nor had her children ever
seen her more composed and gentle, though Hallam noticed that she was
paler than ever, and that her eyes were dull, as if she had not slept.
"It's going to be a miserable day outside," remarked the guest, a little
stiffly.
"Inside, too, I fancy," answered Amy. "I hate undecided things. I like
either a cheerful downpour or else sunshine. I think wobbly weather is
as bad as wobbly folks--trying to a body's temper."
Mr. Wingate laughed, though rather harshly. Amy was already his favorite
in that household, and he reflected that under different circumstances
than those which brought him to Fairacres, he would have found her very
interesting.
"The weather should not be allowed to affect one's spirits," said Mrs.
Kaye.
"No, mother; I suppose not. Yet, it was so pretty here, last night; and
now the leaves over the windows are all shrivelled up, while this border
on the tablecloth is as crooked as can be. It all has such an afterward
sort of look. Ah, it _is_ raining, good and fast."
Mrs. Kaye excused herself and went to look out toward the library. The
wind was howling in that direction, and she exclaimed, anxiously:--
"Cleena, go at once and see if it is doing any harm out there! That
broken door and window--put something against them, if it is."
"I don't think there's any danger of harm. I've sent for a carpenter
more than an hour ago," observed Mr. Wingate.
"Thee?"
For a moment there was a flash in the matron's eyes, but she did not
remark further, though Hallam took up her cause with the words:--
"I suppose you meant it for kindness, but my father does not allow any
one to interfere with that place. Even if it rained in, I think he would
rather give his own orders."
"Probably," answered the guest, dryly, while Cleena deposited a dish of
steaming waffles upon the table with such vigor as to set them all
bouncing.
"Sure, mistress, you'll be takin' a few of these, why not. I never
turned me finer, an' that honey's the last of the lot, three times
strained, too, an' you please."
"Waffles, Cleena? Did thee take some up to the master? I am sure he
would enjoy them."
"Indeed, I did that. Would I forget? So eat, to please Cleena, and to be
strong for what comes."
Even Mrs. Kaye's indifference was not proof against the tempting
delicacy, and doubtless the food did give her strength the better to go
through a trying interview. For immediately breakfast was over, she
rose, and, inviting the visitor into the old parlor, bade her children
join them.
"What our cousin Archibald has to say concerns us all. I leave it to him
to tell the whole story," and she sat down with Amy snuggled beside her,
while Hallam stood upon his crutches at her back.
Somehow, Mr. Wingate found it a little difficult to begin, and after
several attempts he put the plain question abruptly:--
"When can you leave, Salome?"
She caught her breath, and Amy felt the arm about her waist grow rigid,
but she answered by another question:--
"Must thee really turn us out, Archibald?"
The plain, affectionate "thee" touched him, yet for that reason he
settled himself all the more firmly in his decision.
"What has to be done would better be done at once. It is a long time,
Salome, since I have had any recompense for the use of this--my
property--"
"Your property?" cried Hallam.
"Yes, mine. Mine it should have been by lawful inheritance, save for a
rank injustice and favoritism. Mine it is now, by right of actual
purchase, the purchase of my own! Your mother seems to desire that you
should at last learn the whole truth, and I assure you that I have
advanced more than twice the money required to buy this place, even at
an inflated market value. So, lad, don't get angry or indignant. I make
no statements that I cannot prove, nor can your parents deny that I
notified them to vacate these premises more than two years ago."
"Mother, is that so?"
"Yes, Hallam."
"Why didn't we go, then?"
"Our cousin had a heart and did not force us."
"Why do you now, sir?"
"Because I'm tired of waiting. The case grows worse each day. I'm sick
of throwing good money after bad, while, all the time, such folly as is
yonder goes on," pointing toward the distant studio. "One man is as good
to labor as another. Cuthbert Kaye has had money all his life; _my_
money, of which I was defrauded--"
"Archibald! Beg pardon, but that is not so."
"But it is so, Salome. If you have been hoodwinked and believed false
tales, it is time these youngsters learned the facts. They are Kayes,
like you and me. It is honest blood, mostly, that runs in all our veins.
Well then, the life they are living is not an honest life. No man has a
right to more than he can pay for. Can Cuthbert--"
"Archibald, thee shall leave him out of the question!" cried the wife,
roused from her firm self-control. There was something so appealing in
her tone that her children watched her in alarm.
"Very well. So be it. Since he is not man enough to stand by you in the
trouble he has brought upon you--"
"If thee continues, we will leave the room."
"Why haven't I been able ever to meet him then? Why has he always thrust
you between himself and me? If he thought because you were a woman I
would forever put off the day of judgment, he has for once reckoned
without his host. I tell you the end has come."
Mrs. Kaye sank back in her chair, trembling; but still her lips were
closed until the angry guest had finished his speech and had walked off
some of his excitement in a hasty pacing of the long room. At length he
paused before her and said, more quietly:--
"There is no need of our having recourse to legal force. You should
leave without being put out. That is why I came, to arrange it all to
your satisfaction. You are a good woman, Salome, as good as any of your
race before you, and just as big a simpleton when your affections are
touched. A little more firmness on your part, a little less devotee sort
of worship of a--"
"Archibald, remember thee is speaking of what does not concern thee.
There is no need for rudeness, nor, indeed, 'legal' violence. Had I
understood, two years ago, that thee needed--needed--this old home for
thyself, I would have left it then. It has, of course, been to our
advantage to occupy it, but it has also been to thine. An empty house
goes swift to ruin. Everything here has been well cared for, as things
held in trust should be. We will leave here as soon as I can find a
house somewhere to shelter us."
Mrs. Kaye rose, as if to terminate the interview; but Mr. Wingate
cleared his throat and lifted his hand as if he had something further to
say.
"I suppose you have thought about this many times, Salome. What are your
plans?"
"They are not definite. House-hunting is the first, I suppose, since we
cannot do without a roof to cover us."
"How--I can't forget that we are kinsfolk, Salome--how do you propose to
live? I am a plain business man, as practical as--I mean, use common
sense. There are few houses to rent in this out-of-the-way town, where
everybody, except the mill folks, owns his own home,--and even some of
them do. I've come into possession of a house which might suit
you--'Hardscrabble.' I'll let you have it cheap."
"'Hardscrabble'! The 'Spite House'?"
"Yes."
"Oh, Archibald!"
"Exactly. I knew how it would strike you. We both know the story of the
place, but our grandfather's enemy took good care to make his tenement
comfortable inside, even if it was ugly as sin outside."
For a while Mrs. Kaye remained silent, debating with herself. Very soon
she was able to look up and smile gratefully.
"Thee knows as well as I what a stab thee has given my pride, Archibald;
but there is that saving 'common sense' in the offer, and love is
stronger than pride. Tell me what rent thee will ask, and I will take
the place if I can."
"Ten dollars a month."
The prompt, strictly business-like answer fairly startled its hearer.
Then she smiled again.
"I have never lived anywhere save at Fairacres, thee knows. I must trust
thee in the matter. I have no definite ideas about the values of houses,
but I think I can pay that. I must. There is nowhere else to go. Yes, I
will take it."
"It's dirt cheap, Salome. You will never think kindly of me, of course,
but I'm dealing squarely, even generously by you. If 'thee'd,'" for the
second time he dropped into the speech of his childhood, which his
cousin Salome had always retained, and she was quick to observe this,
"if thee had trusted me years ago, things might have gone better with us
both. When will thee move?"
"To-day."
"To-day? There's no need for quite such haste."
"Thee said 'the sooner the better,' and I agree. Get the lease ready as
soon as possible, and I will sign it. I've only one thing to ask about
that: please don't have the name put as either 'Hardscrabble' or 'Spite
House.' I'd like it called 'Charity House.'"
"Upon my word, Salome, you're the queerest mixture of business and
sentiment that I ever met. You're as fanciful as a girl, still. But the
name doesn't matter. Call the place 'Faith' and 'Hope' as well as
'Charity,' if you wish, after you get there; but I won't alter the lease
which I brought along with me last night."
"Brought already, Archibald? Thee expected me to go to that place,
then?"
"Under the circumstances, Salome, and, as you've just admitted, I didn't
see what else you could do. I've sent 'Bony' into the village for my
lawyer, because I want you should have things all straight. He'll
witness our signatures to the lease, and if you'll pick out such
furniture as you most especially care to have, I'll try to spare it,
though the mortgage covers all."
But the speaker's glance moved so reluctantly and covetously over the
antique plenishing that Mrs. Kaye promptly relieved his anxiety.
"It would be a pity to disturb these old, beloved things in their
appropriate places--"
"You're right," interrupted the gentleman. "I've a better notion than
that. I'll leave whatever is in 'Spite House' for your use, and not
break up Fairacres at all."
"Is it still furnished, then?"
"Yes, according to old Ingraham's ideas--for hard use and no nonsense.
He had a big family and nothing much but his temper to keep it on.
However, if there's anything actually needed, I suppose I could advance
a trifle more. It would be for your sake, only, Salome."
"Thank thee, but I hope not to run further into thy debt, Archibald,
save in case of direst need. And do not think but that I fully
understand and appreciate all the kindness which has permitted us to
stay at Fairacres so long. In some things, as thee will one day
discover, thee has mistaken and misjudged us; but in one thing I have
understood and sympathized with thee, always, and with all my heart: the
passionate love which a Kaye must feel for his home and all this."
There was pathos and dignity in the quiet gesture which Salome Kaye
swept over the apartment that had been her own for all her life; but
there was also courage and determination in her bearing as she walked
out of it, leaning lightly upon Amy's shoulder, and with Hallam limping
beside her. Somehow, too, Archibald Wingate did not feel quite as
jubilant and successful as he had anticipated, and he welcomed, as an
agreeable diversion, the approach of a buggy, conveying his friend,
Lawyer Smith, to witness the lease and to give any needful advice in the
matter.
"Hello, Smith. Quite a rainy day, isn't it? I've been studying that row
of old pines and spruces. How do you think the avenue'd look if I was to
have 'em trimmed up, say about as high as your head, from the ground?
Give a better view of the old Ardsley Valley, wouldn't it?"
The lawyer stepped down from his vehicle, backward and cautiously, then
turned, screwed up his eyes, and replied deliberately:--
"Well, it might; and then again it mightn't. It's taken a good many
years for those branches to grow, and once they're off they can't be put
back again. If I was in your place, I'd rather let things slide easy for
a spell; then--go as you please. Have you come to a settlement? Will
they quit without lawing?"
"Yes, they'll quit at once. Say, woman! You, Cleena, bring me a hatchet,
will you? I'll just lop off a little limb on one side, and see the
effect. Hurry up!"
"Faith, I'll fetch it!" responded Cleena, loudly. But when she did so,
she advanced with such a menacing gesture upon the new proprietor of her
old home that he shrank back, doubtful of her intent. "Ain't it enough
to break hearts, without breakin' the helpless trees your own forebears
planted long by?--Aha, my fine gineral, so you're bad penny back again?
Well, then, you're the handle o' time. By the way you tacked up them
boughs, you'll be clever at packin'. Come by. I'll give ye a job."
Thus, partly to Lawyer Smith's caution and partly to Cleena's
indignation, the fine evergreens of Fairacres owed the fact that they,
for the time being, escaped mutilation.