A GIRL'S NOBILITY
At half past eight o'clock in the morning Aunt Timmie was tidying up the
room, Doctor Stone was removing his white jacket, and, on an adjoining
cot to Mesmie, Nancy lay dozing from the effect of an anaesthetic. Her
face held a frown, as though even in slumber the memory of the ordeal
was following her.
"I'll go now," he whispered, "and be back at twelve. You know what to
do."
The old woman nodded, but did not stop the palm-leaf fan being
impartially waved over her charges. She sat like a brooding hen with two
chicks; very alert, keeping an eye on each.
It was about this time that the hunting party reached the stables at
Arden and grimly separated--the sheriff being driven to his waiting
buggy by one of the Colonel's men, who would bring home the tethered
horses.
Dale looked at the sun, now high above the mountains, and, without a
word, left for the library. His all night tramp seemed to have brought
no fatigue; but the old gentleman and Brent, turning toward Bradford's
cottage, moved slowly.
Timmie saw them coming up the path and, glancing once more at her
charges, went to the door. She did not at once notice that their
trousers were frayed and muddy, and their faces scratched. News of
Jane's adventure had not reached her. But her countenance was severe.
During the night she had done a deal of thinking and her indictment
spread over the entire male species--even now including Brent. In a hazy
sort of way it was borne in on her that if gentlemen were unable to
drink and at the same time keep their skins decent, they were becoming
inexcusably degraded. In the circumstances, they could have no pretty
gardens--ever! Above all, perhaps, was her intuitive knowledge that
Brent had tried to harm this girl who, at the bidding of an old negress,
came offering her flesh to help one in whom she felt no particular
interest--though Dale, too, had immeasurably shocked her with his
selfishness. The sum total of these things went into the long night's
vigil, and left her at high tension. So now, when the men arrived, she
was facing them, frowning as an indignant, inexpugnable black
executioner.
"Good morning, Timmie," said the Colonel, starting to enter, but she
blocked the doorway, announcing:
"You-alls cyarn' come in! Dar's a lady 'sleep in heah!"
"How is Mesmie?" he asked.
"She's in mighty bad shape, dat's how she is!"
The Colonel stood a great deal from Timmie and Zack, for much less than
a tenth of which he would have sent another negro off his place in
double quick.
"Who is the lady?" he asked, not over pleased at her humor.
"Nem'min' who de lady is! But she's a suah-footed, elegant an' lovely
angel, dat's got moh human kindness in her den anyone I sees a-lookin'
at _me_!"
"Come, come," the Colonel frowned, "don't answer me in this childish
way! Who is the lady?"
"Well, take a peep--bofe of you--but mind, don' make no fuss!"
She edged to one side, all the while watching Brent as they came near
for the promised peep. His face flushed quickly, but the Colonel looked
more carefully and, turning, whispered:
"I can't see her! Who is it?"
As she told them how Nancy had come, tears gathered in the old
gentleman's eyes and his chin quivered with strong emotion.
"See that she wants for nothing," he said gently. "When the doctor is
through, bring her right over and have everything comfortable."
"I'se done planned dat out, Marse John," she spoke with her more
accustomed tenderness. "She's gwine have de room 'crost from Miss Liz,
an' fresh _boo_-kays eve'y day. We'se comin' over 'foh long, too; fer de
doctor say he ain' gwine take no moh skin offen her." Then suddenly she
exclaimed: "What, in de land sake, is de matter wid you-all's pants?"
But he had turned, and in deep thought started across the grass to the
big house, leaving her in open-mouthed amazement.
"One doesn't see much handsomer things than that girl has showed us," he
said to Brent, who was keeping somewhat in advance.
"No," he answered over his shoulder.
Awhile longer the old gentleman walked with bowed head, then asked:
"Why your abstraction, sir?"
Brent wheeled and faced him. He was crimson with shame, and blurted out
two short sentences:
"I'm a pup, Colonel! I've no right to walk with you!"
"Eh--wha--what do you mean, sir?"
The old gentleman stood rooted to the spot, one foot in advance as he
had just begun his last stride. He had not even raised his head, but was
looking up from under frowsy brows with eyes that were grave and
startled. Against his will some old whisperings of months ago
insistently recurred to him.
Brent now took a few steps back and fearlessly met those accusing eyes.
"One time I tried to hurt that girl," he said squarely. "I got her to
meet me at night, because she didn't know any better, and I didn't give
a damn. But she showed me what a scoundrel I had intended to be then,
and she's just showed me again. She told me about Dale's blind sister
then, and now she's telling that all over again, too. It gets next to
me, Colonel, and if anybody wants to kick me about your farm till
dinner, he can begin when he's ready!"
"All right--er--Gridley," the old gentleman smiled. "In the ratio of
your repentance I feel proportionately happy. You've relieved my mind of
a cloud that has shut out a lot of sunshine these past months, which
otherwise would have been entirely bright. So I absolve you, sir! Now
let the talk die."
"Talk?" Brent flushed a deeper red. "Are they saying anything about it?"
"Emphatically no!--not the girls, at any rate. There may have been
some--er--slight mention."
"Oh, I hate that," he cried, feeling his soul cringe for the injustice
he had brought upon her.
"So do I, sir," the Colonel quickly declared, not understanding. "But
you must let me assure you that the girls have given it little
attention. They never gossip, sir!--for gossips, sir, are the most
arrant of cowards! No one's character is safe from them, sir! They take
a grain of fact," the old gentleman's face was becoming flushed as he
thundered forth this pet denunciation, "and plant it in soil manured
with the rottenest intentions, sir! And it grows into a bastard of
truth, exhaling odors as vitiated as the breath of a toad! The very
saints could not be revivified from such a poison, much less our poor
selves, sir, who strive a lifetime constructing character for those
damned polluters to blight with their graveyard whisperings! I detest
it, sir! The stench of it is repulsive to honest men and gentle women!
But come," he added more genially, "before we spoil our breakfasts."
Miss Liz was waiting at the table and she poured their coffee with more
than her usual concern. The Colonel could invariably detect in what
humor that dear lady happened to be by the way she rendered him this
service. He told her of Mesmie's condition, and portions of the other
news imparted by Aunt Timmie--breathing no word of the man-hunt, or what
had led to it. For awhile her usually severe face was softened, and then
she arose.
"You must both get on without me this morning," she said, with a faint
smile. "I must go to that girl, for she needs someone besides Timmie,
and Timmie needs rest." At the door she hesitated. "Have I not told you,
brother John, that the middle class is our country's safeguard?--that we
would be in a sorry plight without it?"
Meaning no unkindness toward Nancy, but to vindicate himself in a former
argument--and, of course, having kept from her the unpleasant
termination of the mountaineer's visit, he said:
"Had she not come, we might have had Dale. You know that he offered
himself."
"Yes, and I am very glad; for Dale is of that great treasure house--the
middle class!"
The Colonel cleared his throat. "Well, my dear, I gathered from Timmie
that Brent, not once but twice, offered the same service most
handsomely."
"Cut it!" Brent, flushing, whispered savagely across at him.
"One may always depend upon a gentleman," she drew herself up with
dignity, "to meet any situation!"
"Then it is not a question of class, but of being a gentleman, that
should decide," the Colonel chuckled.
But Miss Liz swept haughtily from the room and her untenable position,
her answer trickling back to them until she reached the porch:
"There has been too much noble generosity shown upon your place during
these twelve hours for you and me, John, to part with mutual
recriminations!"
Straining his ears to catch the last of this, the old gentleman looked
resignedly at Brent. "A wonderful institution is woman," he sighed. "By
the way, where is Dale?"
Uncle Zack, whose wondering eyes had scarcely left their travel stained
clothing, answered that he was in the library. Yet, as breakfast
progressed, he did not come, so the Colonel and Brent, having finished,
now arose to go after him.
"I want to tell you," the engineer said, as they stepped into the hall,
"that I feel a lot better after our talk on the lawn this morning. I did
everything I could to apologize, and she has let me stay her staunchest
friend."
The old gentleman passed an arm about him. It was eloquent of confidence
and extreme affection which words would have belittled.
"She is a noble girl," he murmured; then, gravely shaking his head: "but
what I cannot understand is where she gets those sterling qualities. Her
breeding must be most inferior!"
"Colonel, you've seen a lot more of the world than I, but it seems to me
that pedigree isn't worth half as much as charity and common horse
sense."
"Those qualities," he retorted, now glowering at the engineer, "are
traits which every man possesses in his own estimation, and in which he
regards his neighbors as singularly lacking!"
"I was never more convinced of it, sir," Brent laughed. "Now, I'm going
to bed--what are you going to do?"
"I think," the poor old Colonel sighed wearily, "I'll sleep right here,
leaning against these banisters."