CORNWALL BUYS A HOME.
About eight months after Cornwall settled in Harlan, an old brick house
fronting the principal residence street, with a large yard of forest
trees and behind it a garden extending back to the river, about three
acres, was offered for sale. Cornwall, who was present as a spectator,
became suddenly and irresistibly possessed with a desire to purchase it,
and did so for fifty-eight hundred dollars, paying one-third of the
purchase price down, which was all the money he had, borrowing the
remainder from the local bank.
After a careful examination of the house and grounds, which he had not
done in advance of the purchase, he became convinced he had made a
bargain and was confirmed in that idea when, two months later, Mr. Neal,
the owner of some coal properties on Clover Fork, who had brought his
family from Louisville to Harlan, offered seventy-five hundred dollars
for it.
This offer he declined, because he had already written his mother of the
purchase, telling her the place was to be their home, and how well
satisfied he was with his work, and of the prospect for better things
the little mountain city offered. She had answered that it was her
intention to visit him as soon as the railroad was completed, when, if
he was as well satisfied and she found the place one-half as nice as he
declared it to be, she would remain and they would try to make the old
place a comfortable home.
He answered at once that: "Several Louisville and Lexington families
have recently moved here, quite nice people, and you will find
sufficient social entertainment for one of your quiet disposition. When
we can afford to repair and remodel the house and furnish it, using your
handsome, old furniture, we will be very comfortable. Personally, I can
conceive of no more satisfactory arrangement. The railroad from
Pineville will be completed in less than a month, which will give
connection by rail with Louisville. Then you can ship our household
effects through and find the trip a reasonably comfortable one."
Upon the completion of the railroad the little mountain city assumed
quite a metropolitan air. Many strangers came to town. This made
business; and Cornwall had as much to do as he could comfortably handle
and retain his position with the company.
While at breakfast on the 6th of July, he was handed a telegram
announcing his mother's arrival on the morning train. The hotel was
crowded, but he procured a comfortable room and made arrangements to
meet her with a carriage. Then he went to the office and worked until it
was time to drive to the station.
As he came out upon the platform the train pulled in; and his mother,
whom he had not seen for a year, waved to him from the rear platform. He
caught her in his arms and lifted her down, while she shed a few happy
tears and responded to his caresses. Then taking her hand baggage in one
hand and her arm with the other, he started towards the carriage.
"One moment, John; I beg your pardon, Dorothy. This is my son, John
Cornwall; and John, this is Miss Dorothy Durrett, a niece of Mrs.
Neal's. She is making her a visit and expects to remain during the
summer. We came all the way together. I met her just after the train
left the Louisville station; we had opposite berths last night and
breakfast in Pineville at the same table, so we are fairly well
acquainted."
"Miss Durrett I know your uncle very well and have met your aunt. I do
not see either of them here."
"I should have telegraphed, but am careless about such matters."
"I have a carriage at the door and lots of room; mother and I will be
glad to drive you to your uncle's."
"I have found your mother such agreeable company, I would like to
continue the journey with her, even to uncle's door."
The three walked to the street together, entered the carriage and drove
first to the Neal residence, where they left Miss Durrett, then to the
hotel.
Mrs. Cornwall liked the town. Its location on the river bank and the
sloping foothills of Pine Mountain, the murmur of the river, and the
quiet, practical lives of her neighbors, all fit into her idea of a
place to live. The yard and garden of the place her son had purchased
she found charming and in sweet concord with the river and the hills.
She was not a critical woman, but all she could say in favor of the
house was; "It is substantial and seemingly built to withstand the
incursions of time." Though it had been built before the Civil War, the
foundation of stone, the wails of red brick and the roof of steel gray
slate, were as sound as when first constructed. The arched front door,
bordered with a transom and small panes of glass, was the one artistic
thing; and she declared must not be altered. But the small iron porch,
little longer than the width of the doorway, must be supplanted by a
broad veranda, the roof of which should be supported by massive colonial
pillars, in keeping with the grounds, and curative of the barrenness of
the house.
The interior, she said, was a desecration of architecture as an
ornamental science, a waste of room and a destruction of grace and
beauty. Though John would not concede the waste of room, since every
thing was built on a right angle plan and nothing appropriated room but
the partition walls and a narrow stairway. The interior looked as though
it were fashioned by artisans who were zealous disciples of a
carpenter's square and who carried it about for insistent and perpetual
use. She pointed out where many new windows must be cut or old ones
enlarged and considerably modified in form.
"John, you and I must save our money for the next year, then we will
have an architect give our modifications the sanction of his approval.
We must not be too precipitate with alterations; living in the old house
as it is a year, will settle just what we desire. In the meantime we can
find plenty to do in the yard and garden.
"I have four thousand dollars in bank which I have been saving for you.
We will use it to pay off the balance of the purchase price and to
supplement my furniture, which is not more than half enough for the
house.
"How happy we shall be planning and changing the house and grounds to
suit our mutual fancy. It will be the second time for me. When your
father was thirty we had saved three thousand dollars, just enough to
buy a little home. Then we changed our plan and built one fresh and new.
He died before the newness wore away and the place really looked like
home. I believe your plan the better one; to buy an old home with a
large front yard of great forest trees and a garden back of the kitchen,
a house of substantial wall and foundation and living in it, as fancy
dictates or need requires or purse affords, make your alterations; then
the place grows from strangeness to sympathy and takes on individuality.
"These old cherry and pear trees we will make room for in our plans. But
you must cut out the dead tops and spray the trees. We want even these
old trees to look comfortable and happy. Oh, they are sickle pears and
nearly ripe. Just such ones as grew on father's place near Middletown;
and I, a girl in sun bonnet and gingham apron, climbed the trees or
picked them from a ladder. I must have a sun bonnet again and some
gingham aprons. When you come home in the evening I will stand erect or
walk with a sprightly step as a young girl and the sun bonnet will hide
my gray hair and pale face and you will say; 'I wonder who that slender
country girl is out under the trees? I suppose mother has gone to the
house for something.' When I turn round you will say; 'Why, it is little
mother; the mountain air and sunshine and the garden are doing wonders
for her.' John you are a good boy and you are helping too.
"Look, John, there's a whole row of snowball and lilac bushes, and here
are some early yellow roses, and over there a border of golden glow and
a bed of lilies of the valley, and yet further on some hardy lilies and
peonies, and beyond the walk a strawberry bed and sage, and gooseberries
and red raspberries and an arbor of grape vines and a rustic bench.
"We are at home, John. The garden makes me young again and I see your
father's face in your own. It is as though God had given me the two in
the one body. John, brush off the bench and let us sit here and watch
the shadows lengthen and fade and the coming darkness add zest and
brilliance to the full moon. Then we'll go to the house hand in hand and
you can help with the supper. You are not too hungry to wait a bit,
John?"
"No, mother."
They sat for some time in silence as the twilight deepened.
"Mrs. Neal and her niece, Dorothy Durrett, called today. You must take
me over some evening to see them. I must not forget that you are a man
and that some time you will be looking for a wife. You must go out
occasionally, else you will appear awkward in the presence of young
ladies or be considered a crank."
"I like to go, mother, but I have not much time since I've been up here.
Everything was new and I had to work hard and, even with that, have got
many a knock I might have dodged; and lost once or twice because of
inexperience. Experience in the practice is the best professor in law,
but rather hard on the client. * * * I met one nice girl. Though her
family were homely mountain people, she was making the best of her
opportunities. Last winter she took a preliminary course at Wellesley
and this fall enters the college as a freshman. I believe you would like
Mary; I did, anyway. This is Thursday; suppose we go over to the Neals'
Sunday afternoon or Monday evening."
"I will go with you Sunday afternoon at four o'clock."
* * * * *
The Neal home was within easy walking distance of the Cornwall place.
John and his mother made their visit as planned. Their reception was
cordial; Dorothy showed that she was glad of the diversion.
She was quite popular with the boys of her set at home; and it was an
unusual experience when she was not called upon to entertain one or more
young men Sunday afternoon and evening.
She and Cornwall sat upon the porch, joining in the general
conversation. After a time Dorothy suggested that he carry the chairs
out in the side yard, where they sat under the shade of two wide
spreading elms.
They talked of several recently published romances; of mutual friends in
Louisville; of their amusements, coming out parties; engagements and of
the marriage of two of their friends, which had proven a disappointment
to each party.
"Well, Miss Durrett, what about the mountains; do you like them?"
"They are all right for the summer if you could have a big house party,
bringing your friends with you. I must confess that I have done little
but read the week I have been here."
"Oh, make new friends; adapt yourself to your environment; I can do so
with the men. There are some fine young fellows here; though they are
usually at work, except when they are hunting, or swimming or fishing. I
believe girls are scarce; at least I know very few. I will bring
Duffield and Reid around from our office and ask young Cornett to come
with us. How will it do for Wednesday evening. If you feel unequal to
entertaining the four, your aunt might ask a couple of girls in. We'll
be very glad to go for them and take them home again. Give me their
names and I will arrange with the boys."
"How very kind; you are just the sort of friend one needs. Let's go at
once and speak to Mrs Neal."
"Aunt, Mr. Cornwall and I are planning a little party for Wednesday
evening. He is to be responsible for the young men and you are to ask
three of the girls who have called;--and serve some light refreshments,
else Mr. Cornwall will have to take us to the drug store. Does Wednesday
evening suit you?"
"Yes, indeed; what girls would you suggest Mr. Cornwall?"
"They've hardly been in my line since I have been up here. I only know
one or two. It's nice to come not knowing who you will meet;--besides I
am not as deeply interested as the other three men. I shall speak for
Miss Durrett in advance and have the pick of all possible prospects."
They returned to their seats under the elms and completed their plans;
Mrs. Neal having announced that she would ask Bessie Hall, Mary Norwood
and Helen Creech.
Dorothy said; "The young men suggested shall go for them while you come
ahead and make yourself generally useful. This is the penalty for being
so presumptuous as to demand me as a partner before I have seen the
other gentlemen."
* * * * *
Mrs. Neal and Dorothy were both experienced entertainers and the little
party was a complete success.
From Wednesday evening the Neal home became the center of gaiety for
more than a dozen young persons. At night when Dorothy was at home each
window seat and rustic bench was the stage of a scene from the first act
of a seemingly serious love affair, had not the actors changed partners
and rehearsed the same scenes.
By day there were picnics to the mountain tops, fishing and bathing
parties, horseback rides up Clover Fork and down the river and at night
card parties, informal dances, hay rides and suppers.
Cornwall, who for more than a year had been very studious and unduly
sedate, went everywhere; making repeated apologies to his mother for
leaving her so much alone all the while declaring that he thought a
thousand times more of her than any girl in the world.
She and Mrs. Neal became great friends. Mr. Neal said, when his wife was
not at home he knew she was over at the Cornwalls', and John, who heard
the remark, replied; "I am always coming over to your house hunting
mother," at which the young crowd on the porch roared with laughter.
Dorothy was the most popular of the girls and in her bird-like way a
beautiful little creature. A blonde of the purest type, of petite and
perfect form, weighing about a hundred pounds.
Every boy that came to the house, at one time or another, gave her a
great bouquet of roses or mountain laurel or a box of chocolates. Among
themselves, they called her Dolly Dimples Durrett. All the household and
the girls called her Dolly; even Cornwall unconsciously called her Dolly
several times; once in Mrs. Neal's presence. After he left the house
Mrs. Neal asked Dorothy when he began doing that. "Oh! He did it
unconsciously; he is around and hears it so much; I am expecting every
day to call him John and probably have. It doesn't mean anything. I'm
almost sorry to say."
She seemed not to care in the least who of the boys was her cavalier,
making it a point rather to keep the whole company entertained and in
the best of spirits though Cornwall was most with her and they were such
good friends as to feel privileged not to weary each other with forced
conversation, taking time to think a little.
She was as vivacious and light of heart as a feathery summer cloud; and,
I was about to say, reminding one of a butterfly; but there was nothing
of the sedate, slow, hovery movement of that beautiful insect. Her's was
an extremely animated, aggressive daintiness. She always seemed to be
hovering near or peeping into a bunch of flowers or carefully selecting
a piece of candy for her dainty little mouth.
Her costumes were filmy creations of silk or other soft fluffy stuffs
that gave forth the iridescence and sheen of a perfect opal; a coal of
unquenchable, oscillating ruby fire in the heart of a milky diamond. She
was a gorgeous little humming bird. So John described her to his mother
and she knew he had not found the girl he wished for his wife.
One Sunday Dorothy and Mr. and Mrs Neal came from church to dine with
them.
After dinner, while the others sat in the cool, darkened library,
Dorothy and John wandered about the yard and garden.
They passed a bed of flowers in full bloom, over which darted and poised
a pair of humming birds. The flowers were not attractive to the eye or
of pleasant odor; but the long corollas held a pungent, honeyed
sweetness that attracted the birds and many insects. Its technical name
was Agave Americana. The seed had been brought from Mexico by the former
owner of the place who, after making a great fortune in mining, had
first settled in Harlan, but moved away, as the place offered very
limited opportunities for spending his income.
When Dorothy passed the flower bed she gathered a handful and held them
to her face with evident relish as they walked through the garden and
found seats on the bench under the arbor.
They had been seated a few minutes when a messenger came from the public
telephone office calling for John to answer a call from Pittsburgh.
Knowing it was urgent, he excused himself, asking Dorothy to wait in the
arbor, expecting to be gone five minutes. He was delayed at least
twenty. When he returned she was peacefully sleeping on the bench. To
awaken her he held the bunch of flowers to her face.
She smiled, sat up and stretching out her arms moved them up and down
more rapidly than he thought humanly possible; the vibration or arc
described, being one eighth of a complete circle. She bent forward,
placing her lips above first one corolla then another. Her actions were
unmistakable imitations of a humming bird. During the whole time she
kept up an incessant humming or a chirpy little chatter, when John,
almost in tears, taking her by the arm, awoke her.
"Oh! Oh! While you were away I slept and had the funniest dream. Come
with me to the hammock under the oaks in the yard and I will tell it.
Tell me the name of those strangely familiar flowers? Why they are the
very ones I saw in my dream!"
THE DREAM.
"I sat on a bare twig, far from the ground, feeling safer at that giddy
height than nearer earth, preening pinions, polishing beak and uttering
the while a plaintive little chatter.
"There was a whirry buzz from above, a breeze of swift motion, a tremor
of my perch, and beside me sat a gorgeous little knight, dressed even
more brilliantly than I.
"His general body armor was of shining golden green, duller and giving
gradual place to an opaque black underneath. He wore a crown of metallic
violet and gorget of emerald green; his tail feathers were a brassy
sheeny green and upon his breast and near his eyes were a few feathers
of snowy white, as though he had been caught for a second in a snow
storm.
"As he moved in the sunlight those colors shifted and changed until, if
I had not been restrained by modesty, in ecstasy I must have
cried;--'What a gorgeous being you are!' and he, doubtless reading my
thoughts and more than pleased that I liked his appearance, moved yet
closer and whispered words of love to me.
"From our perch we looked out upon the land, the foothill country. It
was loved and kissed by the sun. The scent of fragrant blossoms filled
the air and the fields were dotted with vari-colored flowers. Far above
to the north was a mountain range, the highest peaks of which were
covered with snow, and far below to the south was a lazy tropic river
hemmed to the water's edge by forests of dense shade. There we never
ventured though sometimes when the sun was hottest we flew to the very
edge of the snow fields and sipped the most delicious nectar from the
white wax-like flowers that grew on their moist border.
"It was a life of freedom and movement. Not a moment of inactive
discontent; to dart with the speed of an arrow but pursue as variant a
course as fancy dictated; from twig top to field, feeding upon honeyed
nectar and small insects which also loved the flowers and fed upon their
sweets. Not perching in sluggish dumbness at the place of feeding but
hovering in a fragrant flowery world over the red or white or blue
corolla cloth of an ever changing dinner service, leading all the while
a life of intense movement, to pass as a bar of light, to stop and rest
and as suddenly depart.
"There is a flash of green, red and purplish light, as the iridescence
of the purest gem. Was it the airplane of a fairy passing by that gave
forth all those gorgeous hues, or had an angel in passing from heaven to
earth dropped a jewel from his crown? I saw no wings in motion, but I
have grown to know and love the sound I heard; 'tis Sir Knight returning
from one of his excursions.
"He alights, and preening his feathers a second, the while humming a
little love ditty comes very close and whispers; 'Love, will you be
mine?' And the answer is so low that nothing but a humming bird may
hear.
"So we leave the twig and skimming over field and rill come into a land
of flowers; and many of them are such flowers as I had just gathered.
"No longer alone, we mingle with the bees and butterflies and many
insects and others of our kind, all intent upon a breakfast of honey dew
freshly garnered and served each morning; and such a service! The very
air is alive with the gathering; our ears are deafened by the whistling
sounds of flight, from a plaintiff treble to a resonant bass, mingled
with cries of joy and greeting and quarrelsome chatter. It is the
chit-chat of the insect world.
"My mate on vibrant invisible wing is immovably suspended in a near
vertical position over a large bell white corolla, while I feast from a
platter with a scarlet border and a golden center.
"Ye men who would learn to fly, take the humming bird for instructor;
and be taught that the most powerful flight is not given to breadth of
wing but to swiftness of motion or vibration; and in watching Sir Knight
poised above a flower you may solve the mystery of a suspended flight.
"Finally we fix upon the place to build the nest, on a limb overhanging
the eddying pool of a mountain torrent, just above the foam and spray of
a waterfall.
"Equally careful search is made for material. The foundation is made of
moss plastered into a mass and saddled on a limb. Then it is lined with
white vegetable lint or down.
"I now lead a more sedate life as becomes one assuming the
responsibilities of rearing a family; and, a believer in a small and
well-groomed family, lay but two snow-white eggs.
"While I am busy on the nest, Sir Knight pugnaciously guards bride and
home and, having much leisure, becomes an exterior decorator of the
nest, dressing it in a becoming coat of gray lichens.
"A small hawk lights in the treetop; he is scarcely settled before our
guard makes swift and vicious charge at his head and eyes with
needle-like beak. The hawk in trepidation soars away, pursued for many a
yard, too slow to strike back effectively.
"When the little fellows are old enough to make trips alone to the
flowery feeding grounds I fly to the edge of the forest and there,
tempted to feed from the cone-shaped flowers of a pendant vine, become
enmeshed in the web of a great tropical spider.
"The spider stealthily approaches, watching a chance to spring when I
have grown even more helpless from futile struggle. There is a whir of
wing, a dart of rainbow light, a hole torn in the net. The spider is
tossed from his footing and falls wounded to earth. There is another
welcome whir of wings and I, torn loose, half flutter, half fly to a
nearby limb. Sir Knight has rescued his lady love!
"It was then I awoke and found you standing beside me with those flowers
in your hand."
* * * * *
John did not think it necessary to tell the girl what she had done
before he aroused her. This knowledge, with the dream, was to him an
uncanny thing. The girl's experience he felt was in some weird way a
call from a misty and long-forgotten past. The dream but emphasized
comparisons he himself had made. He had even told his mother the girl
reminded him of a humming bird. This conception, with the dream, blotted
out all thought of the consummation of a slowly growing love. Though he
tried to conceal this feeling, the girl in a subtle way perceived it.
They returned to the library, and the Neals shortly after returned home.
That night the girl was depressed and could not sleep. She found herself
repeating: "Oh, why did I tell John that dream! He did not like it; I
wonder why."
The long-distance call was a request from Mr. Rogers to come to
Pittsburgh. He left the next morning on the early train, without seeing
Dorothy, and was detained ten days. When he returned she had gone home.
He wrote an almost formal letter explaining his sudden departure and
expressing regret that upon his return he had not found her in Harlan.
She answered, acknowledging the receipt of his letter and expressing the
hope that when he came to Louisville he would call upon her.
As a business proposition, the trip to Pittsburgh had been a complete
success. The company had contracted to purchase some valuable mining
property in West Virginia and had sent for John to make a careful
re-examination of the title and check up the abstract furnished by the
vendor. This work required more than a week and when completed the
company found it so satisfactory they paid him a bonus of $250.00 above
his expenses and salary and informed him of a raise of his salary on the
first of the month, when his first year would be completed, to two
thousand dollars. This, with his practice, assured an income of four
thousand dollars a year.