It was as though I had put him in contact with a live wire. His drooping
body straightened, his boot heels clicked against the face of the stone,
and his stiffened arms shot over his head.
"Damn 'im! _Damn 'im! Damn 'im!_" he exclaimed shrilly, each expletive
more forceful than the one which went before. He tossed his clenched
fists skyward, and followed such a lurid stream of malediction, in
consideration of some lily-minded reader, I will not set it down. I was
almost alarmed at the storm my luckless speech had loosened; it seemed
for a short time as if Gran'fer would really go into a spasm. His lip
curled back brute-like till his teeth showed, while his face was
grooved, seamed and twisted uglily. The evil memories which gripped him
tore him roughly for several moments, and then his passion was spent,
leaving him with eyes red and blazing, chest heaving and arms trembling.
I learned nothing from his volcanic, torrential downpour of curses which
in any way lightened the mystery I was burning to solve. It was merely a
meaningless jumble of heated invective, delivered with deadly
earnestness and the most emphatic inflections.
At first I was dumb. His violence came on him so suddenly and quickly.
From the little I had seen of him I had set him down as a rather meek
character, what manhood he may formerly have had henpecked out of him;
an entity, forsooth, but nothing more. When the shock had passed I did
not essay to soothe him. My judgment told me this would not have been
wise. There are some people, especially rural ones and others of no
education, who will not take soothing. In fact, it acts as oil, rather
than water, to flames. I believed Gran'fer to be of this sort, and while
I had no doubt his rage was both righteous and genuine, I let it wear
out before I spoke again.
"I beg your pardon, sir; but I did not know."
He swallowed twice; I could see his hairy Adam's apple rise and fall.
"We don't--talk 'bout him. 'N'--yo' mustn't ast!"
The tones were trembling and weak now, but there was dignity in them. A
feeling of true respect came to me for Gran'fer. There was something
sterling in him. A man may crawl on his belly before a sharp-tongued
shrew, and yet hold that within him which will arise at the command of
necessity; stunned and brow-beaten worth quickened by chance,
opportunity, or need.
Now there surged within me another wish--a wild desire to know one other
thing. It would harm no one to tell me, and to me it meant much.
"Gran'fer," I said; "I'm your friend--your true friend. Perhaps I should
put it that I am Lessie's friend. I apologize for what I said; I didn't
intend any harm. I promise not to mention the subject again to you. But
I pray that you will tell me this--does Lessie know--know about her
father--who he was--and all?"
I waited for his answer, trembling inwardly. He seemed to be thinking.
The cloud had come again to his face, and he began cracking his
knuckles, a succession of vicious little snaps. Then one word burst from
him, hard as a pellet of lead.
"No!"
"Thank you," I said.
Then there fell a silence between us. Gran'fer's mind was back in the
past, and I was groping blindly in the mists of wonder and supposition.
There was a reason, then, for the complex, warring nature of the Dryad.
How I longed to know the whole truth! But I could go no further here. It
was a painful subject, a guarded secret to the old man sitting humped
over by my side, and for the time I must hold my curiosity in check. The
revelation would come. I was determined to learn the story, one way or
another, though from what source I could not remotely guess.
Gran'fer's customary garrulity had deserted him; he even forgot to spit
in the water. When my pipe burned out I did not refill. I know both of
us were oppressed, were quieted by the thought of this great wrong which
had been inflicted nearly a score of years ago. So the creeping shadows
came upon us, and beyond the high western spur the sky glowed salmon,
and gold, and mauve. I heard a screech-owl's sudden chatter, and a crazy
bat wheeled in a wide curve just in front of us. The surface of the
creek grew leaden hued, and the mighty Harp of the Ancient Wood thrilled
gently in response to the low twilight breeze. Gran'fer stirred, and got
stiffly to his feet. I did the same. Somehow I felt awed. Out here
creation seemed so immense, so _recent_, that it was hard to believe the
trail of the serpent had passed over this spot, too. We turned in
silence and went back to the road.
From down Hebron way came the sound of singing. Not blatantly loud and
shrill, but very mellow and rich-toned. It was a woman's voice. A change
had come over me, and I did not want to meet her again just then. She
would have marked the difference. I turned and held out my hand.
Gran'fer took it and gave it a mighty squeeze. His eyes were wet, and
his face looked pained. As I came down the ladder at the other end of
the bridge I glanced across at him. He was standing where I left him,
gazing down the road up which the girl was coming, with that song of
light-hearted, carefree youth upon her lips.