Beth did not mention this occurrence to Adee. She scarcely knew why she
did not. Perhaps for the same reason that one does not discuss sacred
things. In each one's heart is a tenderness, a thought which is hers
alone and which she can tell no one. It was this feeling of delicacy
which restrained Beth from speaking of the matter to Adee. She was very
quiet on her way home. Adee was too, for that matter. There had been
something about Mr. Laurens which had impressed her. She had a feeling
that she had met him somewhere. His voice had thrilled her, like a voice
she had heard and forgotten. She found herself trying to recall where
she had met him. She checked herself, however. Her experience had been
limited. She had been but rarely away from her native town. It was
ridiculous to think for a moment that she had known him.
Without a word, the two walked side by side until they came to the
ravine. Here they instinctively paused. "Look at the Oliver place,"
cried Eliza. "I wonder who would be foolish enough to move in there.
Tramps, like enough."
"Tramps."--Beth came closer to Eliza's side. All she knew of them was
that she had a dim remembrance that Rose Burtsch had called her a
tramp's child and Adee had shaken Rose. A tramp must be a dreadful
creature, so Beth had reasoned. She drew instinctively closer.
As they walked up the slope, they had a better view of the log house.
The boards had been removed from the doors and windows which stood wide
open to the breeze. A narrow path had been cut through the brambles to
the public road. Smoke was coming from the chimney. The sound of some
one whistling came to the ears of Beth and Eliza. There was the sound of
an axe. As they turned the corner, they saw some one cutting the old
fence rails into proper length for wood. He paused when he saw them
coming up the slope and leaned lightly against the axe as he rested.
What a fine looking tramp he was. Fully six feet, with broad shoulders
and long, slender limbs. There were no drooping muscles about him. He
had a white brow with dark hair about it. His eyes were clear and keen.
His mouth was as big and firm and tender as Eliza's own. He wore
trousers of khaki cloth and a soft shirt open at the throat. The sleeves
were rolled up, exposing his arms to the elbow.
"I did not know that tramps were so nice," said Beth. "I thought that
they were something dreadful."
"They are. You can never tell by looks. Hereafter never go or come this
way unless I am with you, and never come to the woods to pick flowers."
"I'm sorry he's moved in there. I had planned to camp out here next
summer. Helen Reed and Sally Monroe and I intended to camp out and do
all our own cooking."
Eliza smiled and wondered if the other two were as ignorant of culinary
arts as Beth herself. The whistling had ceased and a song had taken its
place.
"Just a song at twilight when the lamps are low."
The words followed them clear up the slope.
"He's a queer sort of tramp," said Eliza to herself. "I should not have
believed that they knew such things."
She might have said something about this to Beth, but at their own gate,
Jim-Boy, Sam Houston's youngest son, met them. Jim-Boy was in his bare
feet. His apparel consisted of a pair of jean overalls and a
hickory-colored shirt which had belonged to his father. He was a bashful
lad, and braced himself against the post of the gate before he could
find courage to speak. "Say, Miss Liza, pap wants the lend of your log
chain."
"Dear me. I do not know whether I have one. It's been years since I
thought of it."
"Yes, you have. Pap says it's hanging up in the old harness room. He's
coming over to look at your stone-boat. He doesn't know whether it's all
right or not. He says it hain't been used for years. If it's all right,
he'll come over and borrow it off you."
All this was said as though his father's borrowing would be a great
favor conferred upon Miss Eliza.
"The stone-boat. What does your father intend to do?"
"He's got a job hauling stone to fix the wall at Paddy's Run. The man
was up to see him yesterday. The wall's bulging out. They mean to tear
some away and build it in and higher than it was."
Miss Eliza shuddered at the mention of the wall. It was a retaining wall
built to hold the public road and railroad from the water. At this
point, the river had come so close to the mountain that the way for the
railroad had been cut out. To make this safe, a high stone wall had been
built.
It had been here that Prince had gone over. That had been ten years
before, but even yet Miss Eliza could recall the sensation of dizziness,
of feeling herself falling, which she had felt then.
"Look for the chain. As to the stone-boat, tell your father that I'll
sell that to him if he finds he needs it. I'll never have use for it."
Jim-Boy went his way. Eliza and Beth went into the house and began the
preparation of the evening meal. Beth was not a cook, but there was a
score of things she could do to help Adee. She arranged the table and
did the errands to the cellar and milk-house.
When the meal had been finished and she sat with Adee in the
living-room, she drew close and began wistfully, "I want to ask you
something, Adee. One of the girls asked me questions. That put it in my
mind. I couldn't answer anything she asked. I don't know whether I have
a father or mother, or if I ever had one. I do not know if they are
living or dead. She asked me if I was your niece and I could not tell
her. Am I, Adee?"
There was silence. Eliza had nothing to say. She had known that the time
would come when Beth could not understand and would ask questions. It
had come sooner than she expected.
"Will you tell me, Adee? I do not know what to say when people ask me,
and I feel ashamed that I do not know. Every little girl in school has a
father and mother and I have none. I cannot understand it."
"Your mother is dead. She is buried near my mother, in our own family
lot. I do not know her name. I saw her but once in my life. I always
feel that I caused her death. This is how it happened."
Then Eliza recounted the events of that dreadful day when she had asked
the mother to ride. She described Beth's mother, her dress and manner.
"That accounts for the dreams I have--waking dreams, Adee. Do you
remember that I told you once that you did not look like you used to. It
was some one else I remembered. I can see, as plain as can be, a lady
with coils about her head, and flowers stuck in her hair. She wore
dresses trailing over the floor. I can see her bending over my crib to
kiss me. There was always a man with her."
"But the woman who had you did not look like a woman who would dress so.
She was a respectable person, but poorly dressed and, I am afraid, not
very cultivated. Do you remember what they called you? Do any names stay
with you?"
"No, except Bena and Baby. I remember that I tried to say those words.
Bena must have been a made-up word. Surely no one was ever called so."
"No, it seems hardly possible," said Eliza. "We looked over the ground
everywhere where the accident occurred, but could find no purse. We
thought she might have had her checks or name somewhere in that. I have
a dim remembrance that she had such an article in her hand, but we could
find nothing. I saved everything that you or the woman wore. You had a
little baby pin with E. L. engraved on it. I called you Elizabeth for
that reason."
"Have you them yet, Adee? Will you show them to me?" There was a
high-strung, nervous eagerness in Beth's voice. She was trembling from
head to foot. There was a sadness because of the loss of parents she had
never known; and an eagerness to see those things which were part of her
life somewhere else.
"Would it not be better to put it off until tomorrow?" asked Eliza.
"No, please, Adee, this evening--now." There was no denying the eager,
trembling request. Without another word, Adee arose and, taking up the
lamp, made her way upstairs.
"They are packed away in a trunk in the closet in the spare-room," she
said. Beth ran ahead, and in the dark had pulled out the trunk on to the
middle of the floor before Eliza appeared.
There was nothing said as they knelt before it and opened the lid. Eliza
had put everything away so that moths nor air could destroy it. She
slowly removed the papers and covers and at last laid out all on the
floor before them.
"This is what your mother wore--that day."
Beth's hands touched the plain black skirt, the belt and waist.
"I'll speak plainly, Beth. It is better so, now. I do not wish you to
raise any false hopes about who your parents were. I really think,
child, that you are as well off, as far as material affairs are
concerned, with me as with them. This is why I think so. Look at the
underwear. It is coarse and very poorly made. I think your mother was a
very good woman. I'm sure she was. She had a good face, and she was
gentle with you; but I am quite sure that she was poor and not well
educated. Here are the rings which were in the traveling bag. I think
they are of some value--not much. I should say ten or twelve dollars.
"I wish you would always keep these until you find your own people. It
may be years from now when I am gone. I have written the date and all
the circumstances down in this little book, so that you may have it, if
you need it."
She began to fold the articles. She pinned each one close in its
foldings of paper as carefully as though it were a most precious thing,
and laid them away in the trunk.
[Illustration: _"Permit me, madam, to present the roses."_]
"Some day, we'll know everything about who you are," she said as they
were about to leave the room. She tried to speak lightly but failed.
Putting her arm about Beth's shoulders and drawing her close to her, she
continued, "But just now you are my own little girl, and I'm thankful
for it."
The scene was hard for them both. It was well that an interruption came.
A knock was heard at the living-room door. Beth hurried downstairs.
"Don't open the door until I come. It might be a tramp," Eliza called
after her. Beth hesitated. Eliza came into the living-room with a lamp
in hand. Beth kept close to her while the door was opened.
It really was a tramp--the same one they had seen at the Oliver place.
But he was good looking, clean and smiling. He even removed his hat
while he addressed Miss Eliza.
"Good evening; I have come up to ask a favor," he said.