A STORMY INTERVIEW ON THE BRIDGE
Probably Noah Lyon had never felt anything like the emotion of anger in
his being against his brother until they met that day on the bridge. As
one and another had said several times, no two men of the same blood and
lineage could have been more differently constituted. Noah had been a
diligent student as a boy, and a constant reader in his maturity; while
Titus had been the black sheep of the family, had neglected his studies
in his youth, and did not even read a newspaper in his manhood, unless
for a special purpose.
Titus could read and write, and knew enough of arithmetic to enable him
to keep the accounts of his business. Whatever he learned after he left
school he gathered from the speech of people; and as his associates were
not of the intelligent class in his native town any more than they were
in his new home, his education was very limited and his moral aims, if
he could be said to have any, were not elevated enough to keep him very
far within the limits of the law, which were his principal tests between
right and wrong.
Before he was twenty-one he obtained a position to drive a stage on a
twenty-mile route, so that he spent every other night at a tavern; and
this did not improve his manners or his morals. As a boy he had become
disgusted with farming, and had learned the trade of a mason, working at
it three years. Like his elder brother, he was a horse fancier, and was
a skilful driver. An accident to the old stage-driver placed him on the
box, and when the place became permanent he was only twenty years old.
With so little intellectual and moral foundation as he had laid for his
future character, it was a misfortune for him that he was then a
"good-looking fellow." He boarded at the tavern, and paid only two
dollars a week in consideration of his position, for it was believed
that he had some influence with his passengers. He was well supplied
with money for one of his age in the country, and he spent all he had.
He was an agile dancer, which, with his good looks, made him popular in
the town, especially with the girls. Amelia Lenox was a pretty girl. She
had a fancy for the handsome stage-driver; and, in spite of the earnest
objections of her father and mother, she accepted him as her husband,
and they were married. Titus took a cottage near the tavern, and for a
year, with the help of his and her father, they got along very well.
All of a sudden a railroad shot through the town, and the business of
the place was gone in the twinkling of an eye. The wages of Titus
stopped, and he had a wife and child to support. He went to his father
for advice. The mason, who had done a good business in the town and its
vicinity, had grown old. Hopestill Lyon, the grandfather of the boys,
was his best friend, and bought out his business for Titus.
For several years he worked well, made some money, and paid his
grandfather for the investment made on his behalf. But he did not like
the business. Unlike his brothers, he seemed to believe that fate,
destiny, circumstances, or some other indefinable power that regulates
the worldly condition of mortals, had misused and abused him; for he
ought to have been "born with a silver spoon in his mouth," with wealth
at his command, so that he could live in luxury without work.
When he built chimneys, plastered rooms, or jobbed in filthy drains and
smutty fireplaces, he labored with an active protest against his
occupation in his soul, which extended down to his hands and feet,
shutting out ambition, and making him lazy. He was always on the lookout
for some other occupation, or for some change which would put more money
in his pocket. He did a vast deal of grumbling and growling at his lot,
occasionally taking home with him a gallon jug of New England rum, which
did not improve his condition. He was not a drunkard, but he was
unconsciously falling into a bad habit.
His wife was an intelligent woman, and was a good helpmate; but it did
not require a prophetic vision to read the future, near or distant, of
Titus Lyon. It was said by some of the old people in the town that he
"took after" his grandmother, who had been a stylish woman in her
younger days, though the solid character of Hopestill Lyon had
controlled her inclinations so that she made him a good wife.
Mrs. Lyon reasoned kindly with Titus; but before she left her Northern
home she had lost whatever influence she had ever exercised over him. He
was eager to settle in Kentucky when the colonel's letter announcing an
opening for him came, and she was utterly opposed to the plan. It was at
least a change, and he was determined to make it, in spite of the fact
that his brother could not advise him to do so; and the result proved
the solidity of the colonel's judgment.
For seven years Titus fawned upon his wealthy brother. He was as
obsequious in his presence as one of the field-hands of Riverlawn; but
the colonel did not believe in him as he did in Noah, especially after
his long visit to the latter. When the health of the planter began to be
slightly impaired a couple of years before his death, Titus was sordid
enough to think of what would become of his plantation, which seemed
like a mine of wealth to him, at the decease of the owner.
He had talked planting, hemp, and horses to the colonel, and did all he
could to impress him with the belief that he was competent to manage the
plantation. It was his nature to believe in what he desired, and he was
satisfied that Riverlawn would be bequeathed to him, as it ought to be.
The reading of the will was a shock to him. The giving of ten thousand
dollars more than his fair share to Noah, who lived far away, and had
never even seen the plantation, in consideration for bringing up the two
orphans of his brother, excited his wrath.
He regarded this gift as an absolute wrong to him, while he was
compelled in pay the note out of his own share. He went home from
Riverlawn that day choking down his anger; but he was furious in the
presence of his wife, though she did all she could to console him. She
pointed out the fact that he now owned his place clear of any debt, and
had twenty thousand dollars in cash, stocks, and bonds; but he was not
satisfied. He wanted Riverlawn, where he could live in style, with an
abundant income without work.
As he brooded over his fancied wrong, it came to his mind that the
colonel's _ante-mortem_ inventory had not included the value of the
negroes on the plantation. He hastened over to see Colonel Cosgrove, the
executor. He exhibited a copy of the will, and Titus studied over it for
half a day. Nothing was said about the slaves. Then he went to another
lawyer with whom he had had some political dealings; but this gentleman
assured him that he had no remedy; the colonel had an undoubted right to
dispose of his property as he pleased, even if he had given the whole of
it to Noah. He had bequeathed the plantation, the mansion, with all that
was in or on them, or appertaining to them; and this included the
negroes.
For nearly two years Titus had nursed his wrath, and was earnest in his
belief that Noah ought to right the wrong the colonel had done him. Yet
he had never had the courage to make this claim upon his brother, or
even to mention to him the five thousand dollars which he insisted
belonged to him. The law could do nothing for him, his own lawyer told
him. Noah was his brother, now his only brother; and it was his duty,
according to every principle of right and justice, to pay over to him
half of the legacy of ten thousand dollars, and of the twenty-five
thousand dollars which was a low valuation of the negro property.
The quantity of Kentucky whiskey which Titus consumed magnified his
wrongs and made him more unreasonable than his natural discontent would
have made him. When he learned from his younger son what his wife had
told Mrs. Noah, he was more furious than he had ever been known to be
before, and he descended to the brutality of striking her. He had taken
more than his habitual potion of whiskey, and it made him ugly. His wife
wept bitterly over the abuse she had been subjected to, both the words
and the blow, and she had fled to her bedroom.
She was a high-spirited woman, and it seemed to her that the end of all
things had come, at least so far as her domestic happiness was
concerned. Her father was a well-to-do farmer; and neither he nor her
brothers would permit her to be abused by any one, not even by her
husband. A sudden and violent resolution came to her to return to her
father's house. While she was thinking of this remedy and of the parting
with her children, Titus rushed into the room. She must undo the
mischief she had done, and he would drive her to Riverlawn for that
purpose. He told her what to say, and she promised to say it; for she
felt that she had been indiscreet in what she had said.
During the drive her husband had continued to abuse her with his unruly
tongue, and she had wept all the way. They found Noah and Deck on the
bridge, and Titus decided to pour out his grievances to his brother; for
his drams had brought his courage up to the point where he felt like
doing it. He was not intoxicated, but he had drunk enough to make him
ugly. He descended from the vehicle, and Mrs. Titus drove over to the
mansion.
Dexter was sent away as before related, and the father was somewhat
moved by the rudeness with which the boy had been treated. He was a
mild-spoken man; and though he was quiet in his manner, he had more real
grit in his composition than Titus.
"You seem to be excited, Titus," said Noah, as he seated himself on the
bench from which he had just risen.
"I have good reason to be excited," growled the angry man. "My wife has
acted like a fool and a traitor to me!"
"I am sorry for that, Brother Titus; but I hope you don't hold me
responsible for her conduct," said Noah in gentle and conciliatory
tones.
"Not exactly; but you are responsible for enough without that, and I
have made up my mind that it is time for you and me to have a reckoning,
for you don't do by me as a brother should; and if father was living
to-day he would be ashamed of you," returned the mason, with all the
emphasis of a bad cause.
"I was not aware that I had been wanting in anything one brother ought
to do for another. But we had better consider a subject of such
importance when you are cooler than you seem to be just now, Titus. Your
present complaint appears to be against Amelia, and not against me. What
has she done? I have always looked upon her as a very good woman and
good wife."
"You don't know her as well as I do. I don't know what bad advice Ruth
has given her, or what influence she has over Meely, but she made her
tell a ridiculous story about some arms and ammunition," said Titus in a
milder manner; for he seemed to be intent upon counteracting the effect
of her action. "I s'pose Ruth repeated to you the story Meely told."
"She said you had given five thousand dollars for the purchase of arms,
ammunition, and uniforms for a company of Home Guards, of which you were
to be the captain."
"I'll bet that wa'n't all she told you," added Titus.
"That was the substance of it."
"I suppose most folks in Barcreek know all that."
"I never knew it till to-day."
"You don't go about among folks in this county as I do."
"I don't associate much with Secessionists and Home Guards."
"I do! But that is my business, and I have a good right to give my money
where it will do the most good; and I shall do so whether you like it or
not," fumed Titus.
"I don't dispute your right; though I am surprised that a man brought up
in the State of New Hampshire should become a Secessionist when more
than half the people of Kentucky are in favor of the Union," added Noah.
"'Tain't so! I never was a Black Republican, as you were, and I don't
begin on't now. If you want to steal the niggers, I don't help you do
it! But Meely told your wife something more;" and Titus looked anxiously
into the face of his brother, as if to read the extent of the mischief
which had been done.
"I believe Ruth did tell me that the arms and munitions had already been
purchased, and were hidden somewhere on the river," added Noah. "But I
did not pay much attention to this part of the story. The material part
of it was that you had given so much money to assist in making war in
the State."
"I give the money to keep the war out of Kentucky, and maintain the
neutrality of the State," argued Titus.
"We had better not talk politics, brother, and I will not give my views
of neutrality."
"The story my wife told about the arms was all a lie!" exclaimed the
visitor with an oath which shocked the owner of the plantation. "No arms
are hid on the river, or anywhere else. Meely understood what I said
with her elbows; and she has come down now to take it all back."
"Very well; I don't care anything about the arms, though I should be
sorry to have them go into the hands of the Secessionists or the Home
Guards, for they are all in the same boat."
At this moment Levi Bedford rode over the bridge on the colt, and Titus
was silent.