Mention has been made of certain addressed envelopes which John
Warwick, on the occasion of his visit to Patesville, had left with his
illiterate mother, by the use of which she might communicate with her
children from time to time. On one occasion, Mis' Molly, having had a
letter written, took one of these envelopes from the chest where she
kept her most valued possessions, and was about to inclose the letter
when some one knocked at the back door. She laid the envelope and
letter on a table in her bedroom, and went to answer the knock. The
wind, blowing across the room through the open windows, picked up the
envelope and bore it into the street. Mis' Molly, on her return,
missed it, looked for it, and being unable to find it, took another
envelope. An hour or two later another gust of wind lifted the bit of
paper from the ground and carried it into the open door of the cooper
shop. Frank picked it up, and observing that it was clean and unused,
read the superscription. In his conversations with Mis' Molly, which
were often about Rena,--the subject uppermost in both their minds,--he
had noted the mystery maintained by Mis' Molly about her daughter's
whereabouts, and had often wondered where she might be. Frank was an
intelligent fellow, and could put this and that together. The envelope
was addressed to a place in South Carolina. He was aware, from some
casual remark of Mis' Molly's, that Rena had gone to live in South
Carolina. Her son's name was John--that he had changed his last name
was more than likely. Frank was not long in reaching the conclusion
that Rena was to be found near the town named on the envelope, which he
carefully preserved for future reference.
For a whole year Frank had yearned for a smile or a kind word from the
only woman in the world. Peter, his father, had rallied him somewhat
upon his moodiness after Rena's departure.
"Now 's de time, boy, fer you ter be lookin' roun' fer some nice gal er
yo' own color, w'at'll 'preciate you, an' won't be 'shamed er you.
You're wastin' time, boy, wastin' time, shootin' at a mark outer yo'
range."
But Frank said nothing in reply, and afterwards the old man, who was
not without discernment, respected his son's mood and was silent in
turn; while Frank fed his memory with his imagination, and by their
joint aid kept hope alive.
Later an opportunity to see her presented itself. Business in the
cooper shop was dull. A barrel factory had been opened in the town,
and had well-nigh paralyzed the cooper's trade. The best mechanic
could hardly compete with a machine. One man could now easily do the
work of Peter's shop. An agent appeared in town seeking laborers for
one of the railroads which the newly organized carpet-bag governments
were promoting. Upon inquiry Frank learned that their destination was
near the town of Clarence, South Carolina. He promptly engaged himself
for the service, and was soon at work in the neighborhood of Warwick's
home. There he was employed steadily until a certain holiday, upon
which a grand tournament was advertised to take place in a neighboring
town. Work was suspended, and foremen and laborers attended the
festivities.
Frank had surmised that Rena would be present on such an occasion. He
had more than guessed, too, that she must be looked for among the white
people rather than among the black. Hence the interest with which he
had scanned the grand stand. The result has already been recounted. He
had recognized her sweet face; he had seen her enthroned among the
proudest and best. He had witnessed and gloried in her triumph. He
had seen her cheek flushed with pleasure, her eyes lit up with smiles.
He had followed her carriage, had made the acquaintance of Mimy the
nurse, and had learned all about the family. When finally he left the
neighborhood to return to Patesville, he had learned of Tryon's
attentions, and had heard the servants' gossip with reference to the
marriage, of which they knew the details long before the principals had
approached the main fact. Frank went away without having received one
smile or heard one word from Rena; but he had seen her: she was happy;
he was content in the knowledge of her happiness. She was doubtless
secure in the belief that her secret was unknown. Why should he, by
revealing his presence, sow the seeds of doubt or distrust in the
garden of her happiness? He sacrificed the deepest longing of a
faithful heart, and went back to the cooper shop lest perchance she
might accidentally come upon him some day and suffer the shock which he
had sedulously spared her.
"I would n' want ter skeer her," he mused, "er make her feel bad, an'
dat's w'at I'd mos' lackly do ef she seed me. She'll be better off wid
me out'n de road. She'll marry dat rich w'ite gent'eman,--he won't
never know de diffe'nce,--an' be a w'ite lady, ez she would 'a' be'n,
ef some ole witch had n' changed her in her cradle. But maybe some
time she'll 'member de little nigger w'at use' ter nuss her w'en she
woz a chile, an' fished her out'n de ole canal, an' would 'a' died fer
her ef it would 'a' done any good."
Very generously too, and with a fine delicacy, he said nothing to Mis'
Molly of his having seen her daughter, lest she might be disquieted by
the knowledge that he shared the family secret,--no great mystery now,
this pitiful secret, but more far-reaching in its consequences than any
blood-curdling crime. The taint of black blood was the unpardonable
sin, from the unmerited penalty of which there was no escape except by
concealment. If there be a dainty reader of this tale who scorns a
lie, and who writes the story of his life upon his sleeve for all the
world to read, let him uncurl his scornful lip and come down from the
pedestal of superior morality, to which assured position and wide
opportunity have lifted him, and put himself in the place of Rena and
her brother, upon whom God had lavished his best gifts, and from whom
society would have withheld all that made these gifts valuable. To
undertake what they tried to do required great courage. Had they
possessed the sneaking, cringing, treacherous character traditionally
ascribed to people of mixed blood--the character which the blessed
institutions of a free slave-holding republic had been well adapted to
foster among them; had they been selfish enough to sacrifice to their
ambition the mother who gave them birth, society would have been
placated or humbugged, and the voyage of their life might have been one
of unbroken smoothness.
When Rena came back unexpectedly at the behest of her dream, Frank
heard again the music of her voice, felt the joy of her presence and
the benison of her smile. There was, however, a subtle difference in
her bearing. Her words were not less kind, but they seemed to come
from a remoter source. She was kind, as the sun is warm or the rain
refreshing; she was especially kind to Frank, because he had been good
to her mother. If Frank felt the difference in her attitude, he
ascribed it to the fact that she had been white, and had taken on
something of the white attitude toward the negro; and Frank, with an
equal unconsciousness, clothed her with the attributes of the superior
race. Only her drop of black blood, he conceived, gave him the right
to feel toward her as he would never have felt without it; and if Rena
guessed her faithful devotee's secret, the same reason saved his
worship from presumption. A smile and a kind word were little enough
to pay for a life's devotion.
On the third day of Rena's presence in Patesville, Frank was driving up
Front Street in the early afternoon, when he nearly fell off his cart
in astonishment as he saw seated in Dr. Green's buggy, which was
standing in front of the Patesville Hotel, the young gentleman who had
won the prize at the tournament, and who, as he had learned, was to
marry Rena. Frank was quite certain that she did not know of Tryon's
presence in the town. Frank had been over to Mis' Molly's in the
morning, and had offered his services to the sick woman, who had
rapidly become convalescent upon her daughter's return. Mis' Molly had
spoken of some camphor that she needed. Frank had volunteered to get
it. Rena had thanked him, and had spoken of going to the drugstore
during the afternoon. It was her intention to leave Patesville on the
following day.
"Ef dat man sees her in dis town," said Frank to himself, "dere'll be
trouble. She don't know HE'S here, an' I'll bet he don't know SHE'S
here."
Then Frank was assailed by a very strong temptation. If, as he
surmised, the joint presence of the two lovers in Patesville was a mere
coincidence, a meeting between them would probably result in the
discovery of Rena's secret.
"If she's found out," argued the tempter, "she'll come back to her
mother, and you can see her every day."
But Frank's love was not of the selfish kind. He put temptation aside,
and applied the whip to the back of his mule with a vigor that
astonished the animal and moved him to unwonted activity. In an
unusually short space of time he drew up before Mis' Molly's back gate,
sprang from the cart, and ran up to Mis' Molly on the porch.
"Is Miss Rena here?" he demanded breathlessly.
"No, Frank; she went up town 'bout an hour ago to see the doctor an'
git me some camphor gum."
Frank uttered a groan, rushed from the house, sprang into the cart, and
goaded the terrified mule into a gallop that carried him back to the
market house in half the time it had taken him to reach Mis' Molly's.
"I wonder what in the worl 's the matter with Frank," mused Mis' Molly,
in vague alarm. "Ef he hadn't be'n in such a hurry, I'd 'a' axed him
to read Judge Straight's letter. But Rena'll be home soon."
When Frank reached the doctor's office, he saw Tryon seated in the
doctor's buggy, which was standing by the window of the drugstore.
Frank ran upstairs and asked the doctor's man if Miss Walden had been
there.
"Yas," replied Dave, "she wuz here a little w'ile ago, an' said she wuz
gwine downstairs ter de drugsto'. I would n' be s'prise' ef you'd fin'
her dere now."