RED ROCK
A CHRONICLE OF RECONSTRUCTION
[Illustration: SHE GAVE HIM A ROLLING-PIN AND HE SET TO WORK.]
RED ROCK
_A CHRONICLE OF RECONSTRUCTION_
BY
THOMAS NELSON PAGE
_ILLUSTRATED BY B. WEST CLINEDINST_
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1899
COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
TROW DIRECTORY
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY
NEW YORK
To
F. L. P.
_AN OLD-FASHIONED LADY_
_PREFACE_
_The Region where the Grays and Carys lived lies too far from the
centres of modern progress to be laid down on any map that will be
accessible. And, as “he who maps an undiscovered country may place what
boundaries he will,” it need only be said, that it lies in the South,
somewhere in that vague region partly in one of the old Southern States
and partly in the yet vaguer land of Memory. It will be spoken of in
this story, as Dr. Cary, General Legaie, and the other people who used
to live there in old times, spoke of it, in warm affection, as, “the
old County,” or, “the Red Rock section,” or just, “My country, sir.”_
_It was a goodly land in those old times—a rolling country, lying at
the foot of the blue mountain-spurs, with forests and fields; rich
meadows filled with fat cattle; watered by streams, sparkling and
bubbling over rocks, or winding under willows and sycamores, to where
the hills melted away in the low, alluvial lands, where the sea once
washed and still left its memory and its name._
_The people of that section were the product of a system of which it
is the fashion nowadays to have only words of condemnation. Every
ass that passes by kicks at the dead lion. It was an Oligarchy, they
say, which ruled and lorded it over all but those favored ones who
belonged to it. But has one ever known the members of a Democracy to
rule so justly? If they shone in prosperity, much more they shone in
adversity; if they bore themselves haughtily in their day of triumph,
they have borne defeat with splendid fortitude. Their old family seats,
with everything else in the world, were lost to them—their dignity
became grandeur. Their entire system crumbled and fell about them in
ruins—they remained unmoved. They were subjected to the greatest
humiliation of modern times: their slaves were put over them—they
reconquered their section and preserved the civilization of the
Anglo-Saxon._
_No doubt the phrase “Before the war” is at times somewhat abused. It
is just possible that there is a certain Caleb Osbaldistonism in the
speech at times. But for those who knew the old County as it was then,
and can contrast it with what it has become since, no wonder it seems
that even the moonlight was richer and mellower “before the war” than
it is now. For one thing, the moonlight as well as the sunlight shines
brighter in our youth than in maturer age; and gold and gossamer amid
the rose-bowers reflect it better than serge and crêpe amid myrtles
and bays. The great thing is not to despond even though the brilliancy
be dimmed: in the new glitter one need not necessarily forget the old
radiance. Happily, when one of the wise men insists that it shall
be forgotten, and that we shall be wise also, like him, it works
automatically, and we know that he is one of those who, as has been
said, avoiding the land of romance, “have missed the title of fool at
the cost of a celestial crown.”_
_Why should not Miss Thomasia in her faded dress, whom you shall
meet, tell us, if she pleases, of her “dear father,” and of all her
“dear cousins” to the remotest generation; and Dr. Cary and General
Legaie quote their grandfathers as oracles, alongside the sages of
Plutarch, and say “Sir” and “Madam” at the end of their sentences?
Antiquated, you say? Provincial? Do you, young lady, observe Miss
Thomasia the next time she enters a room, or addresses a servant;
and do you, good sir, polished by travel and contact with the most
fashionable—second-class—society of two continents, watch General
Legaie and Dr. Cary when they meet Miss Thomasia, or greet the
apple-woman on the corner, or the wagoner on the road. What an air
suddenly comes in with them of old Courts and polished halls when
all gentlemen bowed low before all ladies, and wore swords to defend
their honor. What an odor, as it were, of those gardens which Watteau
painted, floats in as they enter! Do not you attempt it. You cannot do
it. You are thinking of yourself, they of others and the devoirs they
owe them. You are republican and brought up to consider yourself “as
good as any, and better than most.” Sound doctrine for the citizen, no
doubt; but it spoils the bow. Even you, Miss or Madam, for all your
silks and satins, cannot do it like Miss Thomasia. You are imitating
the duchess you saw once, perhaps, in Hyde Park. The duchess would have
imitated Miss Thomasia. You are at best an imitation; Miss Thomasia is
the reality. Do not laugh at her, or call her provincial. She belongs
to the realm where sincerity dwells and the heart still rules—the
realm of old-time courtesy and high breeding, and you are the real
provincial. It is a wide realm, though; and some day, if Heaven be good
to you, you may reach it. But it must be by the highway of Sincerity
and Truth. No other road leads there._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. IN WHICH THERE ARE SEVERAL INTRODUCTIONS, 1
II. IN WHICH TWO STRANGERS VISIT RED ROCK AND ARE INVITED
TO COME AGAIN, 11
III. THE VISITORS START SOUTH AGAIN, AND THEIR FORMER HOSTS
GO TO MEET THEM, 33
IV. IN WHICH A LONG JUMP IS TAKEN, 49
V. DR. CARY RETURNS FROM THE WAR, AND TAKES AN INVENTORY
OF STOCK, 56
VI. A BROKEN SOLDIER COMES HOME FROM WAR, 63
VII. THE CARY CONFERENCE, 78
VIII. MR. HIRAM STILL TELLS HOW TO BRIDLE A SHY HORSE, AND
CAPTAIN ALLEN LAYS DOWN HIS HOE, 86
IX. MR. JONADAB LEECH TURNS UP WITH A CARPET-BAG AND OPENS
HIS BUREAU, 96
X. THE PROVOST MAKES HIS FIRST MOVE, 107
XI. THE PROVOST CATCHES A TARTAR, AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON
SEEKS THE CONSOLATIONS OF RELIGION, 118
XII. CAPTAIN ALLEN TAKES THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE AND
JACQUELIN GRAY LOSES HIS BUTTONS AND SOME OLD PAPERS, 139
XIII. STEVE ALLEN LEARNS MISS THOMASIA’S SECRET AND FORSWEARS
CARDS, 155
XIV. LEECH SECURES AN ORDER AND LOSES IT, 162
XV. CAPTAIN MIDDLETON HAS A TEST OF PEACE, AND IS ORDERED
WEST, 175
XVI. THE NEW TROOP MEETS THE ENEMY, 186
XVII. JACQUELIN GRAY GOES ON A LONG VOYAGE AND RED ROCK
PASSES OUT OF HIS HANDS, 195
XVIII. LEECH AS A STATESMAN AND DR. CARY AS A COLLECTOR OF
BILLS, 207
XIX. HIRAM STILL COLLECTS HIS DEBTS, 216
XX. LEECH LOOKS HIGHER AND GETS A FALL, 228
XXI. DR. CARY MEETS AN OLD COLLEGE MATE AND LEARNS THAT THE
ATHENIANS ALSO PRACTISE HOSPITALITY, 241
XXII. JACQUELIN GRAY COMES HOME AND CLAIMS A GRAVEYARD, 252
XXIII. TWO NEW RESIDENTS COME TO THE COUNTY, 264
XXIV. THE TRAVELLERS ARE ENTERTAINED IN A FARMHOUSE, 280
XXV. THE TRICK-DOCTOR, 289
XXVI. MAJOR WELCH AND RUTH BECOME RESIDENTS, 294
XXVII. HIRAM STILL GETS A LEGAL OPINION AND CAPTAIN ALLEN
CLIMBS FOR CHERRIES, 301
XXVIII. MRS. WELCH ARRIVES AND GIVES HER FIRST LESSON IN
ENTERPRISE, 320
XXIX. MRS. WELCH ENTERS THE HARVEST, 330
XXX. SOME OF THE GRAIN MRS. WELCH REAPED, 347
XXXI. JACQUELIN GRAY LEARNS THAT HE IS A FOOL, AND STEVE
ASTONISHES MAJOR WELCH, 365
XXXII. A CUT DIRECT AND A REJECTED ADDRESS, 385
XXXIII. BLAIR CARY SAVES A RIVAL SCHOOL, 398
XXXIV. LEECH AND STILL MAKE A MOVE, AND TWO WOMEN CHECK THEM, 410
XXXV. CAPTAIN ALLEN FINDS RUPERT AND BREAKS THE LAW, 422
XXXVI. MR. STILL OFFERS A COMPROMISE, AND A BLUFF, 436
XXXVII. IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT, IN A TRIAL, COUNSEL MAY ASK
ONE QUESTION TOO MANY, 455
XXXVIII. IN WHICH MR. LEECH SPRINGS A TRAP WITH MUCH SUCCESS, 472
XXXIX. CAPTAIN ALLEN CLAIMS THE REWARD LEECH OFFERED, 500
XL. JACQUELIN GRAY AND ANDY STAMPER PAY AN OLD DEBT, 512
XLI. DR. CARY WRITES A LETTER TO AN OLD FRIEND, 521
XLII. CAPTAIN ALLEN SURRENDERS, 528
XLIII. MISS WELCH HEARS A PIECE OF NEWS, 538
XLIV. MIDDLETON REVISITS RED ROCK, AND AN OLD SOLDIER LAYS
DOWN HIS ARMS, 544
XLV. CAPTAIN ALLEN HAS AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR, 559
XLVI. THE OLD LAWYER DECLINES TO SURPRISE THE COURT, AND
SURPRISES LEECH, 572
XLVII. SOME OF THE THREADS ARE TIED, 579
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
SHE GAVE HIM A ROLLING-PIN AND HE SET TO WORK, _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
AMONG THE COMPANY THAT NIGHT THERE WERE TWO GUESTS WHO
“HAPPENED IN” QUITE UNEXPECTEDLY, 14
THE GIRLS OF THE PLACE TURNED ASIDE, WHENEVER THEY MET THEM,
AND PASSED BY WITH THEIR HEADS HELD HIGH, 96
HE CARRIED OFF IN TRIUMPH A PAIR OF OLD HORSE-PISTOLS, 124
KU KLUX—“AWFUL FORMS WRAPPED LIKE GHOSTS IN WINDING-SHEETS,” 238
BEFORE HIM STOOD, TALL AND GRAY, THE INDIAN-KILLER, 262
“I COULDN’T LET YOU BE RUN AWAY WITH AGAIN UNDER MY VERY
EYES,” HE SAID, 328
STEVE STRETCHED, AND, PICKING UP HIS BOOK, DIVED ONCE MORE
INTO THE “IDYLLS OF THE KING,” 376
SHE GAVE A STEP FORWARD AND WITH A QUICK MOVEMENT PULLED THE
MASK FROM HIS FACE, 406
STILL SPRUNG TO HIS FEET IN UNCONTROLLABLE AGITATION, HIS FACE
LIVID, 464
AND THERE, IN THE LITTLE PARLOR, STEVE AND RUTH WERE MARRIED, 570
RED ROCK
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH THERE ARE SEVERAL INTRODUCTIONS
The old Gray plantation, “Red Rock,” lay at the highest part of the
rich rolling country, before it rose too abruptly in the wooded
foothills of the blue mountains away to the westward. As everybody in
the country knew, who knew anything, it took its name from the great
red stain, as big as a blanket, which appeared on the huge bowlder in
the grove, beside the family grave-yard, at the far end of the Red
Rock gardens. And as was equally well known, or equally well believed,
which amounted almost to the same thing, that stain was the blood of
the Indian chief who had slain the wife of the first Jacquelin Gray who
came to this part of the world: the Jacquelin who had built the first
house at Red Rock, around the fireplace of which the present mansion
was erected, and whose portrait, with its piercing eyes and fierce
look, hung in a black frame over the mantel, and used to come down as a
warning when any peril impended above the house.
The bereft husband had exacted swift retribution of the murderer, on
that very rock, and the Indian’s heart blood had left that deep stain
in the darker granite as a perpetual memorial of the swift vengeance of
the Jacquelin Grays.
This, at least, was what was asserted and believed by the old negroes
(and, perhaps, by some of the whites, too, a little). And if the
negroes did not know, who did? So Jacquelin often pondered.
Steve Allen, who was always a reckless talker, however, used to say
that the stain was nothing but a bit of red sandstone which had
outcropped at the point where that huge fragment was broken off, and
rolled along by a glacier thousands of years ago, far to the northward;
but this view was to the other children’s minds clearly untenable; for
there never could have been any glacier there—glaciers, as they knew
from their geographies, being confined to Switzerland, and the world
having been created only six thousand years ago. The children were
well grounded by their mothers and Miss Thomasia in Bible history.
Besides, there was the picture of the “Indian-killer,” in the black
frame nailed in the wall over the fireplace in the great hall, and one
could not go anywhere in the hall without his fierce eyes following you
with a look so intent and piercing that Mammy Celia was wont to use it
half jestingly as a threat effectual with little Jacquelin when he was
refractory—that if he did not mind, the “Indian-killer” would see him
and come after him. How often Mammy Celia employed it with Jacquelin,
and how severe she used to be with tall, reckless Steve, because he
scoffed at the story, and to tease her, threatened, with appropriate
gesture, to knock the picture out of the frame, and see what was in
the secret cabinet behind it! What would have happened had Steve
carried out his threat, Jacquelin, as a boy, quite trembled to think;
for though he admired Steve, his cousin, above all other mortals, as
any small boy admires one several years his senior, who can ride wild
horses and do things he cannot do, this would have been to engage in a
contest with something supernatural and not mortal. Still he used to
urge Steve to do it, with a certain fascinating apprehensiveness that
made the chills creep up and down his back. Besides, it would have
been very interesting to know whether the Indian’s scalp was still in
the hollow space behind the picture, and if so, whether it was still
bleeding, and that red stain on the bottom of the frame was really
blood.
Jacquelin Gray—the one who figures in these pages—was born while
his father, and his father’s cousin, Dr. Cary, of Birdwood, and Mr.
Legaie were in Mexico, winning renown in those battles which helped
to establish the security of the United States. He grew up to be just
what most other boys of his station, stature, and blood, living on a
plantation, under similar conditions, would have been. He was a hale,
hearty boy, who adored his cousin, Steve Allen, because Steve was older
and stronger than he; despised Blair Cary because she was a girl;
disliked Wash Still, the overseer’s son, partly because Steve sneered
at him, and partly because the negro boys disliked him, and envied
every cart-driver and stable-boy on the place. He used to drive with
string “lines” two or four or six of his black boon companions, giving
them the names of his father’s horses in the stable; or sometimes,
even the names of those steeds of which his Aunt Thomasia, a famous
story-teller, told him in the hour before the candles were lighted.
But if he drove the black boys in harness, it was because they let
him do it, and not because he was their master. If he possessed any
privileges or power, he did not know it. If anything, he thought the
advantage rather on their side than on his, as they could play all the
time, while he had to go to school to his Aunt Thomasia, whose bell
he thought worse than any curfew; for that rang only at night, while
Miss Thomasia’s bell was sure to tinkle just at the moment when he was
having the most beautiful time in the world. How gladly would he have
exchanged places to mind the cows and ride the horses to the stable,
and be free all day long; and whenever he could slip off he was with
the boys, emulating them and being adored by them.
Once, indeed, his mastership appeared. Wash Still, the overseer’s son,
who was about Steve’s age, used to bully the smaller boys, and one
day when Jacquelin was playing about the blacksmith’s shop, Wash, who
was waiting for a horse to be shod, twisted the arm of Doan, one of
Jacquelin’s sable team, until the boy whimpered. Jacquelin never knew
just how it happened, but a sudden fulness came over him; he seized
a hatchet lying by, and made an onslaught on Wash, which came near
performing on that youngster the same operation that Wash’s august
namesake performed on the celebrated cherry-tree. Jacquelin received
a tremendous whipping from his father for his vicious attack; but his
defence saved his sable companions from any further imposition than his
own, and Wash was shortly sent off by his father to school.
As to learning, Jacquelin was not very apt. It was only when Blair Cary
came over one winter and went to school to Miss Thomasia—and he was
laughed at by everyone, particularly by Steve, because Blair, a girl
several years younger than he, could read Latin better—that Jacquelin
really tried to study. Though no one knew it, many of the things that
Jacquelin did were done in the hope that Steve might think well of
him; and whether it was riding wild colts, with the certainty of being
thrown and possibly hurt; diving into deep pools with the prospect of
being drowned, or doing anything else that he was afraid to do, it was
almost sure that it was done because of Steve.
With some natures the mere performance of an action is sufficient
reward: that man suffers martyrdom; this one does a great act; another
lives a devoted, saint’s life, impelled solely from within, and with
no other idea than to perform nobly. But these are rare natures: the
Christophers, à Kempises and Theresas of the world. The common herd
must have some more material motive: “wine, or sleep, or praise.”
That charge was led because a dark—or blonde-haired girl was waiting
somewhere; that gate was blown up because an army was standing by,
and a small cross might be worn on the breast for it; that poem was
written for Lalage, or Laura, Stella, or Saccharissa. Even the saint
was crowned, because somewhere, in retired monasteries or in distant
cities, deeds were sure to be known at last. So, now it is a big boy’s
praise, and later on a fair girl’s favor; now the plaudits of the
playground, and a few years hence salvos of artillery and the thanks of
the people. And who shall say they are not worthy motives? We are but
men, and only the highest win even these rewards.
Steve Allen had come to Red Rock before Jacquelin could remember—the
year after Steve’s father was killed in Mexico, leading his company
up the heights of Cerro Gordo, and his mother died of fever far down
South. Mr. Gray had brought the boy home on his mother’s death; so
Steve was part of Red Rock. Everybody spoiled him, particularly Miss
Thomasia, who made him her especial charge and was notoriously partial
to him, and old Peggy, Steve’s “Momma,” as she was called, who had come
from the far South with him, and with her sharp eyes and sharper tongue
was ready to fight the world for him.
Steve was a tall, brown-haired young fellow, as straight as a sapling,
and with broad shoulders; gray eyes that could smile or flash; teeth
as white as snow, and a chin that Dr. Cary used to say he must have
got from his mother. He was as supple as an eel. He could turn
back-somersaults like a circus man, and as he was without fear, so
he was without reverence. He would tease Miss Thomasia, and play
practical jokes on Mr. Gray and Dr. Cary. To show his contempt for the
“Indian-Killer,” he went alone and spent the night on the bloody rock,
and when the other boys crept in a body to see if he were really there,
he was found by the little party of scared searchers to be tranquilly
asleep on the “Indian-Killer’s” very grave. This and similar acts
gained Steve Allen, with some, the credit of being in a sort of compact
with the spirit of darkness, and several of the old negroes on the
plantation began to tell of his wonderful powers, a reputation which
Steve was not slow to improve; and afterward, many a strange, unearthly
sound, that scared the negroes, and ghostly manifestations which went
the rounds of the plantation might possibly have been traced to
Steve’s fertile brain.
The only persons on the place who did not get on well with Steve were
Hiram Still, the manager, and his son, Wash. Between them and Steve
there was declared enmity, if not open war. Steve treated Hiram with
superciliousness, and Wash with open contempt. The old negroes—who
remembered Steve’s father, Captain Allen, Mr. Gray’s cousin, and the
dislike between him and Hiram—said it was “bred in the bone.”
At length Steve went off to school to Dr. Maule, at “The Academy,” as
it was called, no further designation being needed to distinguish it,
as no other academies could for a moment have entered into competition
with it, and there was a temporary suspension of the supernatural
manifestations on the plantation. Jacquelin missed him sorely and tried
to imitate him in many things; but he knew it was a poor imitation,
for often he could not help being afraid, whilst Steve did not know
what fear was. Jacquelin’s knees would shake, and his teeth sometimes
chatter, whilst Steve performed his most dangerous feats with mantling
cheeks and dancing eyes. However, the boy kept on, and began to do
things simply because he was afraid. One day he read how a great
general, named Marshal Turenne, on being laughed at because his knees
were shaking as he mounted his horse to go into battle, replied that
if his knees knew where he was going to take them that day they would
shake still more. This incident helped Jacquelin mightily, and he took
his knees into many dangerous places. In time this had its effect, and
as his knees began to shake less he began to grow more self-confident
and conceited. He began to be very proud of himself, and to take
opportunities to show his superiority over others, which developed with
some rapidity the character existent somewhere in most persons: the
prig.
Blair Cary gave the first, if not the final, shock to this development.
She was the daughter of Dr. Cary, Mr. Gray’s cousin, who lived a few
miles off across the river, at “Birdwood,” perhaps the next most
considerable place to Red Rock in that section. She was a slim little
girl with a rather pale face, large brown eyes, and hair that was
always blowing into them.
She would have given her eyes, no doubt, to have been accepted as
companion by Jacquelin, who was several years her senior; but as that
young man was now aspiring to be comrade to Steve and to Blair’s
brother, Morris, he relegated Blair to the companionship of his small
brother, Rupert, who was as much younger than Blair as she was younger
than himself, and treated her with sovereign disdain. The first shock
he received was when he found how much better Blair could read Latin
than he could, and how much Steve thought of her on that account. After
that, he actually condescended to play with her occasionally, and,
sometimes, even to let her follow him about the plantation to admire
his feats, whilst he tried to revenge himself on her for her superior
scholastic attainments by showing her how much more a boy could do
than a girl. It was all in vain. For, with this taunt for a spur, she
would follow him even to the tops of trees, or the bottoms of ponds:
so he determined to show his superiority by one final and supreme act.
This was to climb to the roof of the “high barn,” as it was called,
and spring off into the top of a tree which spread its branches below.
He had seen Steve do it, but had never ventured to try it himself. He
had often climbed to the roof, and had fancied himself performing this
feat to escape from pursuing Indians, but had never really contemplated
doing it in fact, until Blair’s persistent emulation, daunted by
nothing that he attempted, spurred him to undertake it. So one day,
after some boasting, he climbed to the peak of the roof. His heart
beat so as he gazed down into the green mass far below him and saw the
patches of brown earth through the leaves, that he wished he had not
been so boastful; but there was Blair behind him, astride of the roof,
her eyes fastened on him with a somewhat defiant gaze. He thought how
Steve would jeer if he knew he had turned back. So, with a call of
derision to Blair to see what “a man could do,” he set his teeth, shut
his eyes, and took the jump, and landed safely below, among the boughs,
his outstretched arms gathering them in as he sank amidst them, until
they stopped his descent and he found a limb and climbed down, his
heart bumping with excitement and pride. Blair, he felt sure, was at
last “stumped.” As he sprang to the ground and looked up he saw a sight
which made his heart give a bigger bound than it had ever done in all
his life. There was little Blair on the very peak of the roof, the very
point of the gable, getting ready to follow him. Her face was white,
her lips were compressed, and her eyes were opened so wide that he
could see them even from where he was. She was poised like a bird ready
to fly.
“Blair! Blair!” he cried, waving her back. “Don’t! don’t!” But Blair
took no heed. She only settled herself for a firmer foothold, and the
next second, with outstretched arms, she sprang into space. Whether
it was that his cry distracted her, or whether her hair blew into her
eyes and made her miss her step, or whether she would have misjudged
her distance anyhow, instead of reaching the thickly leaved part where
Jacquelin had landed, she struck where the boughs were much less thick,
and came crashing through: down, down, from bough to bough, until she
landed on the lowest limb, where she stopped for a second, and then
rolled over and fell in a limp little bundle on the ground, where she
lay quite still. Jacquelin never forgot the feeling he had at that
moment. He was sure she was dead, and that he was a murderer. In a
second he was down on his knees, bending over her.
“Blair, Blair,” he cried. “Dear Blair, are you hurt?” But there was
no answer. And he began to whimper in a very unmanly fashion for one
who had been so boastful a moment before, and to pray, too, which
is not so unmanly; but his wits were about him, and it came to him
quite clearly that, if she were not dead, the best thing to do was to
unfasten her neck-band and bathe her face. So off to the nearest water
he put as hard as his legs could take him, and dipped his handkerchief
in the horse-trough, and then, grabbing up a bucket near by, filled
it and ran back with it. Blair was still motionless and white, but he
wiped her little, scratched face and bathed it again and again, and,
presently, to his inexpressible joy, she sighed and half opened her
eyes and sighed again, and then, as he was still asking her how she
felt, said, faintly:
“I’m all right—I did it.”
In his joy Jacquelin actually kissed her. It seemed to him afterward to
mark an epoch.
The next quarter of an hour was passed in getting Blair’s breath back.
Fortunately for her, if not for her dress, her clothes had caught here
and there as she came crashing through the branches, and though the
breath was knocked out of her, and she was shaken and scratched and
stunned, no bones were broken, and she was not seriously hurt after
all. She proposed that they should say nothing about it to anyone: she
could get his Mammy to mend her clothes. But this magnanimous offer
Jacquelin firmly declined. He was afraid that Blair might be hurt some
way that she did not know, and he declared that he should go straight
and tell it at the house.
“But I did it myself,” persisted little Blair; “you were not to blame.
You called to me not to do it.”
“Did you hear me call? Then why did you do it?”
“Because you had done it and said I could not.”
“But didn’t you know you would get hurt?”
She nodded.
“I thought so.”
Jacquelin looked at her long and seriously, and that moment a new idea
seemed to him to enter his mind: that, after all, it might be as brave
to do a dangerous thing which you are afraid to do, as if you are not
at all afraid.
“Blair, you are a brick,” he said; “you are braver than any boy I
know—as brave as Steve. As brave as Marshal Turenne.” Which was sweet
enough to Blair to make amends for all her bruises and scratches.
From that time Jacquelin made up his mind that he would never try to
stump her again, but would guard her, and this sweetened to him the
bitterness of having to confess when he got to the house. He did it
like a man, going to his father, of whom, at heart, he was mightily
afraid, and telling him the whole story alone without the least
reference to Blair’s part in it, taking the entire blame on himself;
and it was only after he had received the punishment which was deemed
due him that Blair’s joint responsibility was known from her own lips.
This escapade, however, proved a little too much for the elders, and
Jacquelin was sent off to school, to the Academy at Brutusville, under
the learned Doctor Maule, where, still emulating Steve, who was the
leader in most of the mischief that went on at that famous institution
of learning, he made more reputation by the way he constructed a trap
to catch one of the masters, Mr. Eliphalet Bush, than in construing the
ancient language which was that gentleman’s particular department.