"Oh, oh--"
She knelt back on her heels.
"It was a dreadful thing to say, wasn't it? That's why I ran away. I
couldn't stand it. I knew it was a thing no man--could--forgive--"
I smoothed her hair and rocked her back and forth while she cried. It
was strange how much of a child she seemed to me. And I was only the
wife of a country grocer and lived over the store, and she was the wife
of a man whose name was known from east to west, and all around the
world. But you see she hadn't learned to live. Neither have I, really.
But Billy has taught me a lot.
I think it was a comfort for her to feel that she had confided in me.
But she made me promise that whatever happened I wouldn't let him know.
"Unless I--die," she said, and she was as white as a lily, "unless I
die, and then you can--set him--free--"
Billy was sorry that I had promised. "Somehow I feel responsible,
sweetheart, and I'll bet her poor husband is almost crazy."
"Would you be, Billy?"
He caught me to him so quickly that he almost shook the breath out of
me. "Don't ask a thing like that," he said, and his voice didn't sound
like his own. "If anything should happen to you--if anything should
happen--I should--I should--oh, why will women ask things like that--?"
In the days that followed, Billy didn't want me out of his sight. He
even hated to have me go up to the Davenant house with William Watters.
"Take care of her, William," he would say, and stand looking after us.
William and I got to be very good friends. He was a wise old darky, and
he was devoted to Lady Crusoe. He usually served tea for us out under
the trees, unless it was a rainy day, and then we had it in the library.
It was on a rainy day that Lady Crusoe said: "I wonder what has become
of William. I haven't seen him since you came. I have hunted and called,
and I can't find him."
He appeared at tea time, however, with a plate of hot waffles with
powdered sugar between. When his mistress asked him about his mysterious
disappearance, he said that he had cleaned the attic.
"But, William, on such a day?"
"I kain't wuk out in the rain, Miss Lily, so I wuks in--"
That was all he would say about it, and after we had had our tea, she
said to me, "There are a lot of interesting things in the attic. Let's
go up and see what Willie has been doing--"
The dim old place was as shining as soap and water could make it, and
there was the damp smell of suds. There was the beat of the rain on the
roof, and the splash of it against the round east window. Through the
west window came a pale green light, and there was a view over the
hills. As we became accustomed to the dimness our eyes picked out the
various objects--an old loom like a huge spider under a peaked gable, a
chest of drawers which would have set a collector crazy, Chippendale
chairs with the seats out, Windsor chairs with the backs broken, gilt
mirror frames with no glass in them--boxes--books--bottles--all the
flotsam and jetsam of such old establishments. Most of the things had
been set back against the wall, but right in the middle of the floor was
an object which I took at first for a small trunk.
Lady Crusoe reached it first, and knelt beside it. She gave a little
cry. "My dear, come here!" and I went to her, and in another moment, I,
too, was on my knees. For the dark object was a cradle--a lovely hooded
thing of mahogany, in which the Davenants had been rocked for
generations.
"William got it out," Lady Crusoe said, "ready to be carried down. Oh,
my good old man Friday! Do you mind if I cry a little, you very dear?"
It rained a great deal that summer, and it was hot and humid. Billy and
I longed for the cold winds that sweep across the sea on the North
Shore, but we didn't complain, for we had each other, and I wouldn't
exchange Billy for any breeze that blows.
Lady Crusoe suffered less than I, for she was on her native heath, and
in the afternoon when we sewed together William Watters made lemonade,
and in the evening when Billy came up for me we sat out under the stars
until whispers of wind stirred the trees, and then we went away and left
our dear lady alone.
As the time went on we hated more and more to leave her, but she was
very brave about it. "I have my good man Friday," she told us, "to
protect me, and my grandfather's revolver."
So the summer passed, and the fall came, and the busy robin and all of
her red-breasted family started for the South, and there was rain and
more rain, so that when October rolled around the roads were perfect
rivers of red mud, and the swollen streams swept under the bridges in
raging torrents of terra-cotta, and the sheep on the hills were pinker
than ever. There was no lack of color in those gray days, for the trees
burst through the curtain of mist in great splashes of red and green and
gold. But now I did not go abroad with William Watters behind his old
gray mule, for things had happened which kept me at home.
It was on a rainy November night that I came down to the store to call
Billy to supper. I had brought a saucer for old Tid, the store cat, and
when he had finished Billy had cut him a bit of cheese and he was
begging for it. We had taught Tid to sit up and ask, and he looked so
funny, for he is fat and black and he hates to beg, but he loves cheese.
We were laughing at him when a great flash of light seemed to sweep
through the store, and a motor stopped.
Billy went forward at once. The front door opened, and a man in a
rain-coat was blown in by the storm.
"Jove, it's a wet night!" I heard him say, and I knew it wasn't any of
Billy's customers from around that part of the country. This was no
drawling Virginia voice. It was crisp and clear-cut and commanding.
He took off his hat, and even at that distance I could see his shining
blond head. He towered above Billy, and Billy isn't short. "I wonder if
you could help me," he began, and then he hesitated, "it is a rather
personal matter."
"If you'll come up-stairs," Billy told him, "there'll be only my wife
and me, and I can shut up the store for the night."
"Good!" he said, and I went ahead of them with old Tid following, and
presently the men arrived and Billy presented the stranger to me.
He told us at once what he wanted. "I thought that as you kept the
store, you might hear the neighborhood news. I have lost--my wife--"
"Dead?" Billy inquired solicitously.
"No. Several months ago we motored down into this part of the country.
Some miles from here I had trouble with my engine, and I had to walk to
town for help. When I came back my wife was gone--"