THE history of Pinetucky District in Putnam County is preserved in
tradition only, but its records are not less savoury on that account.
The settlement has dispersed and disappeared, and the site of it is
owned and occupied by a busy little man, who wears eye-glasses and a
bob-tailed coat, and who is breeding Jersey cattle and experimenting
with ensilage. It is well for this little man's peace of mind that the
dispersion was an accomplished fact before he made his appearance. The
Jersey cattle would have been winked at, and the silo regarded as an
object of curiosity; but the eye-glasses and the bob-tailed coat would
not have been tolerated. But if Pinetucky had its peculiarities, it
also had its advantages. It was pleased with its situation and
surroundings, and was not puzzled, as a great many people have since
been, as to the origin of its name. In brief, Pinetucky was satisfied
with itself. It was a sparsely settled neighbourhood, to be sure, but
the people were sociable and comparatively comfortable. They could
remain at home, so to speak, and attend the militia musteri, and they
were in easy reach of a church-building which was not only used by all
denominations--Methodists, Baptists, and Presbyterians--as a house of
worship, but was made to serve as a schoolhouse. So far as petty
litigation was concerned, Squire Ichabod Inchly, the wheel-wright, was
prepared to hold justice-court in the open air in front of his shop
when the weather wag fine, and in any convenient place when the weather
was foul. "Gentlemen," he would say, when a case came before him, "I'd
a heap ruther shoe a horse or shrink a tire; yit if you _will_ have the
law, I'll try and temper it wi' jestice." This was the genuine
Pinetucky spirit, and all true Pinetuckians tried to live up to it.
When occasion warranted, they followed the example of larger
communities, and gossiped about each other; but rural gossip is oftener
harmless than not; besides, it is a question whether gossip does not
serve a definite moral purpose. If our actions are to be taken note of
by people whose good opinion is worth striving for, the fact serves as
a motive and a cue for orderly behaviour.
Yet it should be said that the man least respected by the Pinetuckians
was the man least gossiped about. This was Bradley Gaither, the richest
man in the neighbourhood. With few exceptions, all the Pinetuckians
owned land and negroes; but Bradley Gaither owned more land and more
negroes than the most of them put together. No man, to all appearances,
led a more correct life than Bradley Gaither. He was first at church,
and the last to leave; he even affected a sort of personal interest in
politics; but the knack of addressing himself to the respect and esteem
of his neighbours he lacked altogether. He was not parsimonious, but,
as Squire Inchly expressed it, "narrer-minded in money matters." He had
the air of a man who is satisfied with himself rather than with the
world, and the continual exhibition of this species of selfishness is
apt to irritate the most simple-minded spectator. Lacking the sense of
humour necessary to give him a knowledge of his own relations to his
neighbours, he lived under the impression that he was not only one of
the most generous of men, but the most popular. He insisted upon his
rights. If people made bad bargains when they traded with him--and he
allowed them to make no other kind,--they must stand or fall by them.
Where his lands joined those of his neighbours, there was always "a
lane for the rabbits," as the saying is. He would join fences with none
of them. Indeed, he was a surly neighbour, though he did not even
suspect the fact.
He had one weakness,--a greed for land. If he drove hard bargains, it
was for the purpose of adding to his landed possessions. He overworked
and underfed his negroes in order that he might buy more land. Day and
night he toiled, and planned, and pinched himself and the people around
him to gratify his land-hunger.
Bradley Gaither had one redeeming feature,--his daughter Rose. For the
sake of this daughter Pinetueky was willing to forgive him a great many
things. To say that Rose Gaither was charming or lovely, and leave the
matter there, would ill become even the casual historian of Pinetucky.
She was lovely, but her loveliness was of the rare kind that shows
itself in strength of character as well as in beauty of form and
feature. In the appreciative eyes of the Pinetuckians she seemed to
invest womanhood with a new nobility. She possessed dignity without
vanity, and her candour was tempered by a rare sweetness that won all
hearts. She carried with her that mysterious flavour of romance that
belongs to the perfection of youth and beauty; and there are old men in
Rockville to-day, sitting in the sunshine on the street corners and
dreaming of the past, whose eyes will kindle with enthusiasm at mention
of Rose Gaither's name.
But in 1840 Bradley Gaither's beautiful daughter was not by any means
the only representative of womankind in Pinetucky. There was Miss Jane
Inchly, to go no further. Miss Jane was Squire Inchly's maiden sister;
and though she was neither fat nor fair, she was forty. Perhaps she was
more than forty; but if she was fifty she was not ashamed of it. She
had a keen eye and a sharp tongue, and used both with a freedom
befitting her sex and her experience.
Squire Inchly's house was convenient to his shop; and just opposite
lived the Carews, father and son, once the most prosperous and
prominent family in the neighbourhood. It was the custom of Pinetucky
to take a half-holiday on Saturdays, and on one of these occasions
Squire Inchly, instead of going to his shop or to the store, sat in his
porch and smoked his pipe. After a while Miss Jane brought out her
sewing and sat with him. Across the way Uncle Billy Carew sat in his
easy-chair under the shade of a tree, and made queer gestures in the
air with his hands and cane, while his son, a young man of twenty-five
or thereabouts, paced moodily up and down the veranda. The birds
fluttered in and out of the hedges of Cherokee rose that ran along both
sides of the road, and over all the sun shone brightly.
"Billy is cuttin' up his antics ag'in," said the Squire, finally.
"First the limbs give way, and then the mind. It's Providence, I
reckon. We're all a-gittin' old."
"Why, you talk, Ichabod, as if Providence went around with a drink of
dram in one hand and a stroke of palsy in t'other one," said Miss Jane.
"It's the Old Boy that totes the dram. And don't you pester yourself on
account of old Billy Oarew's palsy. A man's nimble enough in the legs
when he can git to the dimmy-john."
"Well, I'm sorry for Jack, Sister Jane," exclaimed the Squire,
heartily. "I am, from the bottom of my heart. The boy is too lonesome
in his ways. He needs comp'ny; he needs to be holp up, Sister Jane. He
does, certain and shore."
"Well, we're all near-sighted; but when Im in trouble, I'm like a hen
a-layin'; I don't want nobody to stand around and watch me. Not even
them that feeds me. The Lord knows what he keeps old Billy Carew here
to fret poor Jack for, but I don't," continued Miss Jane, with a sigh.
"I'm much mistaken if that old creetur hain't got years before him to
drink and dribble in."
"It passes me, Sister Jane," said Squire Inchly, moving uneasily in his
chair. "It passes me, certain and shore. Here was Billy, rich and
healthy, Jack at college, and ever'thing a-runnin' slick and smooth,
when nothin' must do but the old creetur must take to the jug, and it's
gone on and gone on, till old Bradley Gaither owns in-about all the
Carew plantation that's wuth ownin'. Maybe it was Billy's wife druv him
to it, Sister Jane."
"I say the word!" exclaimed Miss Jane, scornfully,--"I say the word!
How could a little bit of a dried-up 'oman drive a grown man to drink?"
"They are a heap livelier than they look to be, Sister Jane," said the
Squire reassuringly. "Little as she was, I lay Billy Carew's wife had
her say."
"Well," said Miss Jane, "a mouse'll squeal if you tromple on it."
Squire Inchly had a jovial appearance ordinarily; but when he found it
necessary to wrestle with the moral problems that the sharp tongue of
his sister presented to his mind, he was in the habit of putting on his
spectacles, as if by that means to examine them more impartially. He
put his spectacles on now, and with them a severe judicial frown.
"That's the trouble, Sister Jane,--that's the trouble," he said after a
while. "The mouse'll squeal and squeal, but where's the man that ever
got use to sech squealin'?"
"Don't pester the mouse then," said Miss Jane, sententiously.
"Old Bradley Gaither," remarked the Squire, showing a disposition to
wander away from a dangerous discussion,--"Old Bradley Gaither ain't
only got mighty nigh all the Carew plantation, but he's hot arter the
balance of it. Last sale-day he took me off behind the Court-house,
and, says he--
"'Square,' says he, 'I'd like mighty well for to git that Carew place,'
says he.
"'Why, Mr. Gaither,' says I, 'you've in-about got it all now,' says I.
"'Square Ichabod," says he, 'it's only a matter of two hundred acres or
thereabouts, and it cuts right spang into my plantation,' says he.
"'Well,' says I, 'two hundred acres ain't much, yit arter all it's a
piece of land,' says I.
"'That's so,' says he, 'but I want that land, and I'm willin' for to
pay reasonable. I want you to buy it for me, Square,' says he.
"Right across from where we sot," the Squire continued, taking off his
spectacles, "old Billy Carew was a cuttin' up and singin' his
worldly-reminded gongs, and Jack was a-tryin' for to git him off home.
"'Mr. Gaither,' says I, 'do you want to crowd that poor old creetur out
'n the county?' says I. 'And look at Jack; you won't find a
better-favoured youngster,' says I.
"I disremember what he said," the Squire went on; "but when I named
Jack he puckered up them thin lips of his'n like he was fortifyin' his
mind ag'in anger. I didn't let on about Rose and Jack, Sister Jane, but
I reckon Mr. Gaither has got his suspicions. No doubt he has got his
suspicions, Sister Jane."
"Ichabod," said Miss Jane, scratching her head with the long teeth of
her tucking-comb, "you're too old to be made a tool of. Let old Bradley
Gaither do his own buyin' and sellin'. That old scamp is deep as a
well. Them that didn't know him'd think he was sanctified; yit he's got
devilment enough in him to break the winders out 'n the meetin'-house.
Well, he needn't pester wi' Jack and Rose," Miss Jane went on; "Jack'll
never marry Rose whilst old Billy Carew is hoppin' along betwixt the
grocery and the graveyard. Lord, Lord! to think that sech a no-'count
old ereetur as that should be a-ha'ntin' the face of the earth!"
"He took to fiddlin' and drinkin' arter he was fifty year old,"
remarked the Squire.
"Yes, and the property he hain't drunk up he's fiddled away, till now
he hain't got nothin' but a passel of half-free niggers and a little
piece of land, and old Bradley Gaither is hungry for that. And that
ain't all," exclaimed Miss Jane, solemnly; "Jack is ruined, and Rose is
distracted."
"Ah!" said the Squire.
"Yes," said Miss Jane. "Trouble is always double and thribble. Rose was
here last Tuesday, and she sot by the winder there and watched Jack all
the time she stayed.
"'That's what I call courtship at long taw,' s' I.
"'Yes, Miss Jane,' se' she, 'it is, and I'm in a great deal of trouble
about Jack. I understand him, but he don't understand me,' se' she.
'He's mad because father loaned his father money and then took land to
pay for it. But I'd marry Jack,' se' she, 'if only to give him his land
back.'
"I declare!" Miss Jane continued, "'twould 'a' melted airy heart in the
universe to see that child blushin' and cryin', I went and stood by her
and put my arms round her, and I says to her, s' I--
"'Don't you fret, honey, don't you fret. Old Billy Carew is full of
capers and vain babblin's,' s' I, 'and your pappy is puffed up by his
fleshly mind; but the Almighty, he's a-watching' 'em. He'll fetch 'em
up wi' a round turn,' s' I; 'He knows how to deal wi' unreasonable and
wicked men.' I said them very words."
"Saint Paul said 'em before you, Sister Jane, but you said 'em right,--
you said 'em right," exclaimed Squire Inchly, heartily.
"Well, I don't set up to judge nobody, but I don't need no spyglass to
see what's right in front of my face," said Miss Jane.
Thus these two old people sat and talked about the affairs of their
friends and neighbours,--affairs in which they might be said to have
almost a personal interest. The conversation turned to other matters;
but across the way they saw enacted some of the preliminaries and
accompaniments of a mysterious complication that finally became as
distressing and as disastrous as a tragedy.
Old Billy Carew continued to gesticulate with his cane and to talk to
himself. He desired no other audience. One moment he would be convulsed
with laughter; then he would draw himself up proudly, wave his hand
imperiously, and seem to be laying down a proposition that demanded
great deliberation of thought and accuracy of expression. After a while
his son, apparently growing tired of the humiliating spectacle, left
his father to himself, and went over to Squire Inchly's.
Jack Carew was a great favourite with the Squire and his sister. Miss
Jane had petted him as a boy; indeed, after the death of his own
mother, she had maintained towards him the relations of a
foster-mother. His instinct had told him, even when a child, that the
asperity of Miss Inehly was merely the humorous mask of a gentle and
sensitive heart.
As he flung himself wearily in the chair which Miss Jane had been quick
to provide, he seemed, notwithstanding his dejection, to be a very
handsome specimen of manhood. His hair was dark, his eyes large and
lustrous, his nose straight and firm, and his chin square and
energetic. His face was smooth-shaven, and but for the glow of health
in his cheeks, his complexion would have been sallow.
"Father has gone to the legislature again," he said with a faint
apologetic smile and a motion of the hand toward the scene of the poor
old man's alcoholic eloquence.
"Well," said Miss Jane, soothingly, "he hain't the first poor creetur
that's flung his welfare to the winds. The Old Boy's mighty busy in
these days, but the Almighty hain't dead yit, I reckon, and he'll come
along thereckly and set things to rights."
The young man's face grew gloomy as he looked across the way at his
homestead. The house was showing signs of neglect, and the fences were
falling away here and there, The jagged splinters of a tall oak, whose
top had been wrenched off by a storm, were outlined against the sky,
and an old man babbled and dribbled near by. On the hither side the
Cherokee roses bloomed and the birds sang. It seemed as if some
horrible nightmare had thrust itself between Jack Carew and the sweet
dreams of his youth.
"I trust you are right, Miss Jane," said Jack, after a long pause; "but
He will have to come soon if lie sets my affairs to rights."
"Don't git down-hearted, Jack," exclaimed Miss Jane, laying her hand
upon the young man's arm with a motherly touch. "Them that's
big-hearted and broad-shouldered hain't got much to be afear'd of in
this world. Have you forgot Rose Gaither, Jack?"
"I haven't forgotten Bradley Gaither," said Jack, frowning darkly, "and
I won't forget him in a day, you may depend. Bradley Gaither is at the
bottom of all the misery you see there." The young man made a gesture
that included the whole horizon.
"Ah, Jack!" exclaimed Miss Jane, solemnly, "I won't deny but what old
Bradley Gaither is been mighty busy runnin' arter the rudiments of the
world, but the time was when you'd kindle up barely at the mention of
Rose Gaither's name."
"Shall I tell you the truth, Miss Jane?" asked Jack Carew, turning to
Miss Inchly with a frank but bashful smile.
"You've never failed to do that, Jack, when the pinch come."
"Well, this is the pinch, then. But for Rose Gaither I should have sold
out here when I first found how matters stood. I could easily sell out
now--to Bradley Gaither."
"That's so, Jack, you could," said Squire Inchly, who had been a
sympathetic listener. "Yes, sir, you could; there ain't no two ways
about that."
"But I wouldn't, and I won't," continued Jack. "Everybody around here
knows my troubles, and I propose, to stay here. I haven't forgotten
Rose Gaither, Miss Jane, but I'm afraid she has forgotten me. She has
changed greatly."
"You look in the glass," said Miss Jane, with a knowing toss of the
head, "and you'll see where the change is. Rose was here t'other day,
and she stood right in that room there, behind them identical curtains.
I wish--but I sha'n't tell the poor child's secrets. I'll say this: the
next time you see Rose Gaither a-passin' by, you raise your hat and
tell her howdy, and you'll git the sweetest smile that ever man got."
"Miss Jane!" exclaimed Jack Carew, "you are the best woman in the
world."
"Except one, I reckon," said Miss Jane, dryly.
Jack Carew rose from his chair, and straightened himself to his full
height. He was a new man. Youth and hope rekindled their fires in his
eyes. The flush of enthusiasm revisited his face.
"I feel like a new man; I am a new man!" he exclaimed. Then he glanced
at the pitiful figure, maundering and sputtering across the way. "I am
going home," he went on, "and will put father to bed and nurse him and
take care of him just as if--well, just as if I was his mother."
"The Lord'll love you for it, Jack," said Miss Jane, "and so'll Rose
Gaither. When ever'thing else happens," she continued, solemnly, "put
your trust in the Lord, and don't have no misdoubts of Rose."
The superstition that recognises omens and portents we are apt to laugh
at as vulgar, but it has an enduring basis in the fact that no
circumstance can be regarded as absolutely trivial. Events apparently
the most trifling lead' to the most tremendous results. The wisest of
us know not by what process the casual is transformed into the
dreadful, nor how accident is twisted into fate.
Jack Carew visited the Inchlys almost daily; yet if he had postponed
the visit, the purport of which has been given above, the probability
is that he would have been spared much suffering; on the other hand, he
would have missed much happiness that came to him at a time of life
when he was best prepared to appreciate it. He had determined in his
own mind to sell the little land and the few negroes he had saved from
the wreck his father's extravagance had made; he had determined to sell
these, and slip away with his father to a new life in the West; but his
conversation with Miss Jane gave him new hope and courage, so that when
Bradley Gaither, a few weeks afterwards, offered to buy the Carew place
for two or three times its value, he received a curt and contemptuous
message of refusal.
Young Carew was high-strung and sensitive, even as a boy, and events
had only served to develop these traits. When he was compelled to leave
college to take charge of his father's' affairs, he felt that his name
was disgraced for ever. He found, however, that all who had known him
were anxious to hold up his hands, and to give him such support as one
friend is prepared to give another. If the Pinetuckians were
simple-minded, they were also sympathetic, There was something gracious
as well as wholesome in their attitude. The men somehow succeeded in
impressing him with a vague idea that they had passed through just such
troubles in their youth. The idea was encouraging, and Jack Carew made
the most of it.
But he never thought of Rose Gaither without a sense of deepest
humiliation. He had loved Rose when they were schoolchildren together,
but his passion had now reached such proportions that he deeply
resented the fact that his school-hoy love had been so careless and
shallow a feeling. Now that circumstances had placed her beyond his
reach, he regretted that his youthful love experience was not worthier
of the place it held in his remembrance. He could forget that Rose
Gaither was the daughter of the man to whom he attributed his troubles,
but he could never forget that he himself was the son of a man whose
weakness had found him out at an age when manhood ought to have made
him strong.
Still, Jack Carew made the most of a bad situation. He had the courage,
the endurance, and the hopefulness of youth. He faced his perplexities
with at least the appearance of good-humour; and if he had his moments
of despair, when the skeleton in the jug in the closet paraded in
public, Pinetucky never suspected it. The truth is, while Pinetucky was
sympathetic and neighbourly, it was not inclined to make a great fuss
over those who took a dram too much now and then. Intemperance was an
evil, to be sure; but even intemperance had its humorous side in those
days, and Pinetucky was apt to look at the humorous side.
One fine morning, however, Pinetuoky awoke to the fact that it was the
centre and scene of a decided sensation. Rumour pulled on her bonnet
and boots, and went gadding about like mad. Pinetucky was astonished,
then perplexed, then distressed, and finally indignant, as became a
conservative and moral community. A little after sunrise, Bradley
Gaither had galloped up to Squire Inchly's door with the information
that two bales of cotton had been stolen from hie place the night
before.
The facts, as sot forth by Bradley Gaither, were that he had twelve
bales of cotton ready for market. The twelve balei had been loaded upon
three, wagons, and the wagons were to start for Augusta at daybreak. At
the last moment, when everything was ready, the teams harnessed, and
the drivers in their seats, it was discovered that two bales of the
cotton were missing. Fortunately, it had rained during the night, and
Bradley Gaither had waited until it was light enough to make an
investigation. He found that a wagon bad been driven to his
packing-screw. He saw, moreover, that but one wagon had passed along the
road after the rain, and it was an easy matter to follow the tracks.
The fact of the theft had surprised Squire Inchly, but the details
created consternation in his mind. The tracks of the wagon led to the
Carew place! Squire Inchly was prompt with a rebuke.
"Why, you've woke up wi' a joke in your mouth, Mr. Gaither. Now that
you've spit it out, less start fresh. A spiteful joke before breakfus'
'll make your flesh crawl arter supper, Mr. Gaither."
Squire Inchly spoke seriously, as became a magistrate. Bradley
Gaither's thin lips grew thinner as he smiled.
"I'm as serious as the thieves that stole my cotton, Squire Inchly,"
said Bradley Gaither.
"Two whole bales of cotton in these days is a heavy loss," said the
Squire, reflectively. "I hope you'll ketch the inconsiderate parties to
the larceny."
"If you will go with me, Squire, we'll call by for Brother Gossett and
Colonel Hightower, and if I'm not mistaken we'll find the cotton not
far from here."
"Well, sir," said the Squire, indignantly, "you won't find it on the
Carew place. I'll go wi' you and welcome. We don't need no search
warrant."
The long and the short of it was that the cotton was found concealed in
Jack Carew's rickety barn under a pile of fodder. Of those who joined
Bradley Gaither in the search, not one believed that the cottor would
be found on the Carew place; and some of them had even gone so far as
to suggest to Mr. Gaither that his suspicions had been fathered by his
prejudices; but that injured individual merely smiled his cold little
smile, and declared that there could be no harm in following the wagon
tracks. This was reasonable enough; and the result was that not only
was the cotton found, but the wagon standing under the shelter, and two
mules at the trough in the lot showed signs of having been used.
These things so shocked those who had gone with Bradley Gaither that
they had little to say. They stood confounded. They could not
successfully dispute the evidence of their eyes.
They were simple-minded men, and therefore sympathetic. Each one felt
ashamed. They did not look into each other's eyes and give utterance to
expressions of astonishment. They said nothing; but each one, with the
exception of Bradley Gaither, fell into a state of mental confusion
akin to awe.
When Bradley Gaither, with cm. air of triumph, asked them if they were
satisfied, they said nothing, but turned and walked away one after the
other.
They turned and walked away, and went to their homes; and somehow after
that, though the sun shone as brightly and the birds fluttered and sang
as joyously, a silence fell upon Pinetucky,--a silence full of
austerity. The men talked in subdued tones when they met, as though
they expected justice to discharge one of her thunderbolts at their
feet; and the women went about their duties with a degree of
nervousness that was aptly described by Miss Jane Inchly long
afterwards, when reciting the experiences of that most memorable day in
the history of Pinetucky. "I let a sifter drop out 'n my hand," said
she, "and I declare to gracious if it didn't sound like a cannon had
went off."
In all that neighbourhood the Carews, father and son, had but one
accuser, and not one apologist. Pinetucky existed in a primitive
period, as we are in the habit of believing now, and its people were
simple-minded people. In this age of progress and culture, morality and
justice are arrayed in many refinements of speech and thought. They
have been readjusted, so to speak, by science; but in Pinetucky in the
forties, morality and justice were as robust and as severe as they are
in the Bible.
It was not until after the machinery of justice had been set in motion
that Pinetucky allowed itself to comment on the case; but the comment
was justified by the peculiar conduct of the Carews, When they were
confronted with the facts--the cotton concealed in the barn and the
warrant in the hands of the sheriff,--old Billy Carew fell to trembling
as though he had the palsy. Jack had turned pale as death, and had made
a movement toward Bradley Gaither as though to offer violence; but when
he saw his father shaking so, the colour returned to his face, and he
exclaimed quickly--
"The warrant is for me alone, Mr. Sheriff. Pay no attention to father.
He is old, and his mind is weak."
"He's a liar!" the old man screamed, when he found his voice. "He's a
miserable liar! He never stole that cotton. Don't tetch him! don't you
dast to tetch him! He'll lie to you, but he won't steal your cotton!
Put my name in that warrant. Bradley Gaither stole my money and land; I
reckon I've got the rights to steal his cotton."
"He's drunk again," said Jack. "We'll carry him in the house, and then
I'll be ready to go with you."
But the old man was not carried to the house without a scene. He raved,
and screamed, and swore, and finally fell to the ground in a fit of
impotent rage, protesting to the last that Jack was a liar. When those
who were present had been worked up to the highest pitch of excitement,
Bradley Gaither spoke--
"Don't criminate yourself, Jack. I am willing to drop this matter." He
appeared to be greatly agitated.
"Drop what matter?" exclaimed young Carew in a passion. "I have a
matter with you, sir, that won't be dropped."
"Go your ways, then," said Bradley Gaither; "I've done my duty." With
that he mounted his horse, and Jack Carew was left in the hands of the
sheriff.
The machinery of the law was not as difficult to set in motion in those
days as it is now. There was no delay. Pinetuoky was greatly interested
in the trial, and during the two days of its continuance delegations of
Pinetuckians were present as spectators. Some of these were summoned to
testify to the good character of young Carew, and this they did with a
simplicity that was impressive; but neither their testimony nor the
efforts of the distinguished counsel for the defence, Colonel Peyton
Poindexter, had any effect. The facts and the tacit admissions of Jack
were against him. Colonel Poindexter's closing speech was long
remembered, and indeed is alluded to even now, as the most eloquent and
impressive ever delivered in the court-house in Rockville; but it
failed to convince the jury. A verdict in accordance with the facts and
testimony was brought in, and Jack Carew was sentenced to serve a term
in the penitentiary at Milledgeville.
The first to bring this information to Pinetucky was Bradley Gaither
himself. He stopped at Squire Inehly's for his daughter, and went in.
"What's the news?" asked Miss Jane.
"Bad, very bad news," said Bradley Gaither.
"Jack ain't hung, I reckon," said Miss Jane. "My mind tells me, day and
night, that the poor boy in innocent as the child that's unborn."
"Innocent or guilty," said Bradley Gaither, "he has been sent to the
penitentiary."
Miss Jane gave a quick glance at Rose, and was just in time to catch
her as she fell from her chair.
"Ah, poor child!" cried Miss Jane, "her heart is broke!"
"Rose!--Daughter!--Darling!" exclaimed Bradley Gaither, dropping on his
knees beside her. "Oh, what is this? What have I done? Speak to her,
Miss Inchly! What shall I do?" He was pale as death, and his features
worked convulsively.
"Do nothin', Mr. Gaither. You've done more 'n you can undo a'ready.
You've took and give that poor boy over for to be persecuted, Mr.
Gaither, and now the innocent suffers and the wicked goes scotch-free."
Bradley Gaither covered his face with his hands and groaned aloud.
"What have I done? What have I done?" he cried.
Miss Jane supported the girl in her strong arms with a grim display of
affection, but her attitude towards Bradley Gaither was uncompromising.
"Don't alarm yourself, Mr. Gaither," she said; "this poor child'll come
too, quick enough. Folks don't fling off the'r misery this easy!"
Rose revived after a while, but she seemed to have no desire to talk to
her father. After a copious use of camphor, Miss Jane fixed Rose
comfortably on the lounge, and the girl lay there and gazed at the
ceiling, the picture of wide-eyed despair. Bradley Gaither paced the
room like one distracted. His sighs were heart-rending. When Miss Jane
succeeded in getting him out of the room, he paced up and down the
entry, moving his lips and groaning as though in great mental agony.
Failing to understand what emotions he was at the mercy of, Miss Jane
failed to sympathise with him. To her mind his display of grief bore no
sort of proportion to the cause, and she had a woman's contempt for any
manifestation of weakness in man, even the weakness of grief.
"I'll pray to the Lord to forgive me!" he cried out piteously.
"That's right," exclaimed Miss Jane, in her decisive way. "But if the
grace of pra'r was in the hinges of the knee, I know a heap of folks
that'd be easy in the mind."
Every word she spoke cut like a knife, but not until long after did
Miss Inchly realise the fact. When she did realise it, it is to be
feared she hugged the remembrance of it to her bosom with a sort of
grim thankfulness that Providence had so happily fashioned her words
and directed her tongue.
As time passed on, the Pinetuckians became aware that a great change
had come over both Bradley Gaither and his daughter. The father grew
old before his time, and fell into a decline, as his neighbours
expressed it. The daughter grew more beautiful, but it was beauty of a
kind that belonged to devoutness; so that in contemplating it the minds
of men were led in the direction of mercy and charity and all manner of
good deeds.
One night, a year or more after the trial and sentence of Jack Carew, a
negro on horseback rode to Squire Inchly's door, and said that his
master, Bradley Gaither, desired the Squire to come to him at once. The
worthy magistrate was prompt to obey the summons; and when he arrived
at the Gaither place, he found that the preacher and other neighbours
had also been summoned. Bradley Gaither lay upon his bed, surrounded by
these, and it was plain to see that his sands of life had about run
out. He presented a spectacle of dissolution calculated to arouse the
sympathies of those who stood around his bed.
When Squire Inchly had arrived, Bradley Gaither lay a little while with
his eyes closed as in a dream. Then he motioned to his daughter, who
drew from beneath his pillow a few sheets of letter-paper stained and
blotted with ink. This she handed to the minister.
"Read it aloud," said Bradley Gaither. The minister, with some degree
of embarrassment, adjusted his spectacles and read:--
"With this paper will be found my last will and testament. I am
unhappy, but I should be less miserable if I knew I could put such
meaning in these lines as no man could misunderstand. I have sinned
against an innocent man, I have sinned against my dear daughter, I have
sinned against myself, I have sinned against God. I have been guilty of
a great wrong, and though I cannot forgive myself, yet I hope to be
forgiven. John Carew, who is now in prison, is an innocent man. I
coveted his land. In my worldly-mindedness I set my heart upon his
possessions. I offered him double their value. I thought he treated me
with contempt, and then I hit upon a plan to drive him out. I carried
the cotton to his barn and hid it. He knew no more about it than any
honest man. But as God is my judge, I did not foresee the end. I
thought he would compromise and sell the land and go away. At the last
the law took the matter out of my hands. John Carew believes that he is
suffering punishment in place of his father; but William Carew is as
honest as his son, and no man could be honester than that. I, Bradley
Gaither, being in my right mind and of sound memory, do hereby charge
myself with the crime for which John Carew has been adjudged guilty.
Let the disgrace of it be attached to me alone. The sin of it I hope a
merciful God will forgive."
This document was duly signed and witnessed. When the preacher reached
the end, he said, "Let us pray;" and while that prayer, as fervent as
simplicity could make it, was ascending heavenward, the soul of Bradley
Gaither took its flight.
"I glanced at him arter the breath left him," said Squire Inchly,
relating the facts to his sister, "and he looked like a man that had
shook hisself free from a heap of worriment. I hope he's at peace. I
do, from the bottom of my heart."
The confession was received with great wonder in Pinetucky; but there
was not one among the Pinetuckians who did not believe that Bradley
Gaither was a better man at bottom than his life had shown him to be,
not one, indeed, who did not believe that his grievous errors were
among the dispensations which an all-wise Providence employs to chasten
the proud and humble the vainglorious.
When Jack Carew returned to his friends, he made his way straight to
Squire Inchly's. He was not much changed, but the sight of him gave
Miss Jane the cue for tears. These, however, she dried immediately,
and, with a smile that Jack remembered long, motioned towards the
little sitting-room.
"Go in there, Jack. A man oughtn't to grumble at waitin' for his
dinner, if he knows he'll git pie."
In the little sitting-room Rose Gaither was waiting for him.