The House Of Fulfilment Part 4

And if you don't believe me, etc., etc."

And so on through the tale. King William, at her knees, clapped his hands. Alexina, by him, clapped hers, too, for joy of companionship, while the third listener sat with unchanging countenance below. But he liked it, somehow one knew he liked it, knew that he was listening down there in the dusk.

Perhaps Charlotte knew it, too. The vibrant tw.a.n.g slowed to richer chords, broke into rippling chromatic, caught a new measure, a minor note, and her contralto began:

"I am going far away, far away to leave you now, To the Mississippi River I am going--"

But this was only so much suggestion for her son's active brain.

"Tell her, mother," he begged, pulling at Charlotte's sleeve; "tell her about the 'King William.'"

"And it has lain dormant, this egotism, unsuspected," came up from out of the dusk.

Charlotte's fingers swept the chords, her eyes fixed adoringly on her little son's face, the while she sang on, absently, softly:

"Down in my ol' cabin home, There lies my sister an' my brother.

There lies my wife, the joy of my life, An' the child in the grave with its mother."

But King William, far from being harrowed by the woeful enumeration, laid an imperious hand on the strings. "Tell her, mother; I want you to tell her."

"Come then, and kiss mother, and I will."

He moved the intervening step and submitted a cheek reluctantly.

"Just one and you said you'd tell."

But Charlotte, imperious herself, waved him off; she'd none of him now. "It's because he's a vain boy, little Mary Alexina Blair, and filled with self-importance, that he wants you to know, and he only wants me to tell you because he has not quite the a.s.surance to do it himself; that is why he wants me to tell about the great, white-prowed Argo--"

"We call them bows, not prows," came up out of the dusk.

But she refused the correction. "--The white-prowed Argo that is building across the river, to go in search of a golden fleece for little Jason here, a boat large, oh larger even than those other boats of little Jason's father, the Captain down there, which used to float up and down the Mississippi, and which vanished one day into the maw of the Confederacy--"

But Jason was lifting his voice. "Not that way; make her stop, father; that ain't the way!"

But mother was not to be hurried out of her revenge. "And this big, white ark is one day going to float off on the flood of Hope, bearing Jason and his father and his mother, the last plank of fortune between them and--"

Jason was beating with his hands on the steps. "Make her stop, father; make her tell it right; she don't understand what mother means. Do you?" with an appeal to the absorbed Alexina.

That small soul jumped and looked embarra.s.sed to know what to say, for direct admissions are not always polite. "I had an ark once," she stated, "but I sucked the red off Noah, and Marie, my bonne, took it away."

Leaning down, Charlotte Leroy swept the baby-voiced creature up into her lap. There was a pa.s.sion of maternity in the act. "You innocent,"

she said, and held her fast.

It was nice to be there; the ribbons and the lacy ruffles were soft beneath her cheek, and the dark eyes of the lady were smiling down.

The child turned suddenly and clung to Charlotte with pa.s.sionate responsiveness.

"It's about the boat his father is building, w.i.l.l.y wants you to know, little Mab," the lady was telling her, "and how, the other day, the Captain down there and our friends and w.i.l.l.y and I went aboard her, on the ways at the shipyard over the river, and how, at the ax-stroke, as she slid down and out across the water, w.i.l.l.y broke the bottle on the bow and christened the boat 'King William.'"

"Just so," came up in the Captain's voice.

The moon was rising slowly.

"There's some one at the gate," cried w.i.l.l.y.

"It's for me," said Alexina, starting up; "it's Nelly and she's hunting me."

Later, Nelly, leading her across the street, was saying, "I don't believe Miss Harriet is going to like it when she knows where you've been."

"Why?"

But Nelly couldn't say; "except that they're the only ladies on the street not knowing each other," she explained.

The two went in. Alexina dropped Nelly's hand and walked into the parlour and across to Harriet's knee. Austen sat reading on the other side of the table.

"I've been over to a boy's house," said Alexina; "his name is King William and their other name is Leroy."

Harriet held the cambric strip of embroidery from her and viewed it.

"Austen," she asked, "is Alexina to play indiscriminately with the children on the square?"

Austen looked across at his sister. "It is within your authority to decide," he returned, "but I know of no reason why she should not."

Harriet made no response. Outwardly she was concerned with some directions to Nelly, waiting to take the child to bed, but inwardly she was wondering if Austen ever could have cared for this Charlotte Ransome.

He sat long after Harriet had gone. Then, rising abruptly, he went out the front door and walked to the corner of the house. It was dark in the coachman's room above the stable, and the master could go to bed secure that his oil was not being wasted.

That was all, yet he did not go in. The night was perfect, full of moonlight and the scent of earth and growing things. It was so still the houses along the street seemed asleep.

Almost furtively, the gaze of Austen lifted to the cottage, dark and silent across the way. He had been the one who would not forgive; the other had been only an impetuous girl.

He stood there long. Perhaps his face was colder, his lips pressed to a thinner line; perhaps it was the moonlight. Then he turned and went into the house.

CHAPTER SIX

Alexina came to Harriet with information.

"Emily goes to school to her aunt, and King William goes there, too."

"Do they?" returned Harriet. Her interest was good-humoured rather than ardent.

"I'd like to go, too," said her niece.

"Oh," from Harriet, understanding at last; "but isn't school about over?"

"There's two weeks more."

"If it will make you happy, why not, if the teacher does not object?"