True and Other Stories Part 8

The day after that incident Dennis disappeared from the cabin, and was not seen there again until evening. He was supposed to be out fishing, and did, I believe, actually pa.s.s his time in sailing outside the network of sandy spits and islands, as if engaged in trolling for bluefish; but when he returned he brought but few trophies of the hook.

I know that during the afternoon he beached his boat on the inner sh.o.r.e beyond Ocrac.o.ke, and took to wandering disconsolately along the dreary dunes. The hour of sunset approached as he found himself near the old graveyard of Portsmouth. It was a rough, melancholy, neglected spot; and the thick-sown graves lay near the racing tides that the land which held the dead was gradually crumbling away, and delivered to the sea, from time to time, its mournful burden of forgotten humanity.

Dennis, while trudging unconsciously hither, had been lost in mingled reflections upon the quarrel--alternately grateful for his escape from crime, and remorseful for the pa.s.sionate temper which had almost swept him on, without premeditation, to the consummation of a terrible deed.

All at once he became aware that he stood at the edge of this grim and pathetic graveyard. A shudder ran through him.

"To think," he muttered, "that I was nigh on to bringin' Sylv to such a place as this! And then how would I ha' felt? Oh, G.o.d, forgive me! We die soon enough, the best way we can fix it. Why should one man want to kill another?"

Near the water the ground was ragged and worn away, where the chafing of the tides had carried it off piecemeal; and from the gaunt earth several coffins projected, which were soon to fall a prey to the waves. Dennis gazed upon them with a fascinated horror, and as he looked it seemed to him that in the mouldering receptacle of death nearest to him he could see something bright shining through the crevices of the boarding that, warped by long inhumation, leaned partly open. For a moment the wild fancy presented itself that impossible wealth, in the shape of sparkling jewels, had been buried with the unknown inmate of the coffin. He bent a little closer to examine it. At that instant the bank beneath crumbled slightly--some of the sandy soil slipped into the water--and a fresh breeze, sweeping in from the sea, shook the side-plank so that it fell, disclosing the dusty and shapeless contents. Sweat started to the brow of Dennis; he beheld there a row of toads, sitting inert and hideous inside the coffin, with glittering eyes.

No more awful example of the ghastiliness of burial could have confronted him than that. The sight redoubled the agony he was already suffering, and with a staggering motion he turned to retrace his steps.

Dennis was not a reflective man; perhaps he had never before meditated very deeply on the transitoriness of life, and the thousand ways in which oblivion is forever clutching at us, obliterating the few poor traces of our existence that are left when we depart from this world.

But the conjunction of circ.u.mstances, bringing such a sight to him at that precise moment, wrought powerfully on his mind. "If I could only change!" he said to himself, as he plodded back to his boat. "If I could only be better!"

Yet he was by no means certain that he could improve.

Throughout the next few days he devoted himself to Sylv with a careful tenderness that was almost pathetic. He offered to do him little services; he tried to exhibit an interest in Sylv's reading; he was anxious not to have Slyv expose himself to any undue fatigues or risks or dangers. He would not let him go out in the boat.

"'Pears like you thought you was married a'ready and Sylv was your baby," Aunty Losh observed, with kindly sarcasm, noticing his unwonted solicitude. "But I'm glad on't, Dennie. Bein' as you're older'n him, it ar' right, and I'm glad on't." And thereupon she again betook herself to "paddling" snuff, with a pleasant sense of duty performed.

Sylv understood his brother's contrition, but did his best to banish all remembrance of their saturnine controversy in the wood. "How 'bout Beaufort," he asked, as the time approached for making the final arrangements; "have you seen Deely?"

Now, the truth was that neither of them had seen Deely for several days; she had stayed at home punctiliously, dreading to meet Sylvester by chance, and dreading still more to see Dennis, after what she had overheard.

"No," said Dennis; "but I will see her."

Accordingly he went over to the so-called Doctor Reefe's house at Hunting Quarters, the next day. Adela was at home, but she came out of the house to receive him, and did not ask him in.

"I'm not going," she said at first, facing him with a reserved majesty like that of some wild princess.

"Why not?" he inquired, his eyes still downcast.

"Because I'm afraid. Something might happen."

Dennis shot a swift, indignant glance at her. "What'd happen, I'd like to know?"

"I didn't mean anything," said Adela. "I'm not going; that's what." She saw that she had been too abrupt, and she was determined not to disclose that she knew anything of the altercation.

But Dennis besought her in every way he could think of. "I won't talk to you so, like I did last time," he said, penitently. "I know I'm a rough kind o' fellow. I ain't got no temper--or mebbe I got too much. But I'm sorry for what I done, and sorry for mor'n what you know, Deely. I'll promise to be good if ye'll go."

And so, at last, she consented.

Old Reefe regarded the races as a matter of business, being in the habit, I regret to say, of selling considerable quant.i.ties of his untrustworthy herb-medicines on these occasions. He was peculiar and of a solitary turn, and had his own way of going to Newbern. He started three or four days in advance, on foot, and did more or less peddling in the spa.r.s.ely settled country through which he pa.s.sed. This arrangement was also quite satisfactory to Dennis. His sloop was made out of two large hollowed cypress logs--as is the custom in those lat.i.tudes, where the hard knocks that boats must endure on the shoals soon wear out any lighter craft--and the accommodations aboard were limited; there was really no room for "ole man Reefe."

To people leading so plain and secluded a life as that of the sh.o.r.e, you may imagine what a change and what an outlook of wild excitement this extensive trip to Newbern afforded. Adela was always interested in the boat; Dennis had given her lessons in sailing, and often let her take the helm. Once on board, her old delight returned; doubts and troubles vanished, and it was soon a gay party that sat beneath the sail, now briskly speeding midway up the five-mile-wide current, now tacking from side to side.

An informal, impromptu sort of fair cl.u.s.tered around the races, embracing booths and stalls for the sale of various trumpery, with perhaps a circus in a tent, or merely a nomadic little "show,"

consisting chiefly of over-colored pictures, that hung upon the canvas wall, flapping and trembling in the breeze as if frightened by their own mendacity. Then, as I have said, "Doctor" Reefe went about, lean and sombre, with grayish hair straggling round his dark cheeks, to hawk his "great Indian remedies," although it did not appear that there were any Indians to be remedied. Adela, who possessed a knack for making ornamental baskets and bead-work, likewise availed herself of the brief season to sell some of her pretty wares, in a modest and desultory way.

Lance, Jessie, and Colonel Floyd occupied themselves at first with looking at the trotters and watching the false starts, the true starts, the judges incessantly ringing a bell in the most confusing way, and the fine, steady rush of the horses around the track, with small sulkies and eager drivers apparently glued to their haunches. But after a time, when a number of heats had been run, there was an intermission, and Lance and Jessie began to stroll about in the crowd, examining the limited means of entertainment, while the colonel talked with some of his cronies among the horse-owners. Blacks and whites were slowly sauntering from point to point, chiefly in separate groups, and our friends kept on the edge of the white crowd. There was a fresh odor of bruised gra.s.s in the air, from the treading of many feet, and the beating of a drum sounded from the small tent where an outrageous effigy of the Great Giant of Tartary alternately swelled out threateningly and crumpled itself up ineffectually, as the gusts of wind came and went that fluttered the streamers above him.

Here and there a game of some sort was in progress, though without enlisting much energy from the partic.i.p.ants, except in one instance. The exception was due to a newly introduced sport--that of "egg-jumping"--the point of which was that each contestant, in trying to make the longest jump, should carry an egg in either hand. The natural tendency to close the fingers at the moment of leaping was relied on to make jumpers crush the eggs; and most of them came to grief in that way, for a failure to bring either egg intact through the experiment ruined the compet.i.tors chance for that time. The enterprising individual who presided over this game had put up several cheap prizes, among which was a brilliant neckerchief for feminine adornment, and charged each person who entered the sum of five cents, the low rate being due to the fact that the eggs consumed were no longer marketable; and their condition was supposed to increase the dismay of the defeated.

The men toed a chalk line on the gra.s.s, and jumped from it successively.

The line never lacked for the boots of some ambitious contestant ready to make his attempt; and as Lance reached the spot with his companion, the stalwart form of Dennis De Vine was discovered there, gathering itself together for a saltatory effort. He had set his heart on winning the neckerchief for Adela; but, with the eyes of the spectators upon him, he was conscious of being in an absurd position, and his greatest difficulty seemed to be to suppress a smile that was broadening on his lips. Twice or thrice he seemed on the point of jumping, but each time he paused to give way to a bashful guffaw and stamp his bouts on the ground with humorous emphasis. Finally he nerved himself, and, readjusting the fragile burdens in either fist, made his spring. For an instant the sunlight showed brightly on his ruddy cheeks and red hair as he flew from the line, rising a few inches from the sod. Then he landed suddenly, several feet away, slipped, and went down, with the yolks gushing in yellow spurts from the sh.e.l.ls. A roar of laughter rose from the crowd.

Dennis looked a little angry, but hastened to rub off the egg-yolks on the gra.s.s, and, producing another five cents, took his stand at the line again. He waited for one or two companions in misfortune to repeat his failure; but there was no awkward merriment about him, this time. He was too intent upon success. Holding the new eggs firmly and lightly, swinging his arms and then keeping them well up as he started, he made his second energetic venture; and when his feet struck the turf he raised the two small white objects triumphantly. They were unbroken.

He was rewarded with plaudits and shouts of approbation--the length of the jump was respectable--and, with a reluctant flourish of the kerchief, the proprietor of the game awarded him that prize.

"Good for you, Dennie!" cried a deep and rather musical voice near Lance.

He turned, and recognised Sylv. "Why, how are you?" he asked, cordially.

He would have stepped toward him and shaken hands, but Sylv merely took off his hat, bowing, and gave no sign of expecting further advances. The truth was, he was afraid of Jessie, whose notions of caste made her think it proper to keep these folk at a distance in public places.

"Come," she said to her lover; "let us be going back to the racecourse."

"I wanted to speak a moment with De Vine," Lance objected, mildly. "I intend to make him part of my schemes; don't you see?"

"Oh, well, not here; not now," said Jessie. "He's not your friend, if he _is_ to be your workman. And this is hardly the place."

"Very well," he a.s.sented, though not wholly pleased.

But by this time Dennis had elbowed his way through the press of onlookers, bearing his prize like a victorious banner, and Jessie all at once became interested in seeing what he would do with it. "Look!" she exclaimed, abandoning her position of careful reserve. "He's going to give it to his sweetheart--Adela Reefe. Don't you remember my telling you about her? She's really a handsome girl--very handsome. And that reminds me--I _must_ buy one of her baskets or boxes. She'd be dreadfully disappointed if I didn't."

The result was that Jessie impulsively carried him off in pursuit of Dennis, whom Sylv also followed.

Old Reefe, mounted on a box under the spreading branches of a tree, not far away, was dispensing his medicaments with an impressively stoical air, now and then addressing the bystanders in a curiously grave manner, quite at variance with the usual volubility of nostrum-dealers; and near him Adela was moving to and fro with a bundle of her handiwork on her arm, waiting for purchasers, but never soliciting them. Aunty Losh smoked her pipe serenely in the background, beneath the shade of the trees.

Lance and Jessie witnessed the pleasant little scene that was enacted, of Dennie's presenting the scarf loyally to his lady-love, and her unfeigned satisfaction in receiving it, while Sylv stood apart for a moment, and then came up to take a share in describing his brother's achievement. They all three broke into smiles and laughter at the recital.

But Lance stood motionless with astonishment. "Is _that_ Adela Reefe?"

he inquired.

"Certainly," Jessie a.s.sured him. "Why shouldn't she be?"

Lance was too much surprised to answer. It appeared to him certain, at the very first glance, that this was the same young woman who had of late been so often in his mind; and, as she looked so much like his recollection of her, the resemblance to Jessie which he had before imagined also struck him now. But he could not as yet be quite sure that it existed. He waited until they came nearer before making up his mind on this point.

Meanwhile Jessie pressed forward, and he with her. She greeted Adela with smiles, nodded with the affability of a natural superior to Dennis, and congratulated them both on his success, in a way that made them feel that she had bestowed a favor. She then began to examine Adela's stock-in-trade, holding up the different articles that took her fancy, turning them this way and that, and bringing out their meek decorative value by the sunniness of the light from her own eyes. "This is pretty.

_That's_ remarkably good!" she said, like a connoisseur inspecting rare bric-a-brac. "Oh, I _must_ have this box of bark and moss! And that belt--just see how quaint it is, Ned."

Lance quietly received each piece that she selected, and kept every one; so that when she had done choosing and he had paid for them, Adela conceived that it would be unnecessary to sell anything more that day.

The belt which Lance was called upon to admire especially was made of simple undressed leather, but it was embroidered with a design in varicolored beads, so original and ingenious that the thing became positively charming. Through the pattern there ran a series of angular lines that suggested an inscription; as this, however, seemed to be only a whim of the designer, and was illegible, it fell into the general plan of ornament, with an effect like that of hieroglyphics. Miss Jessie's cavalier glanced at it hastily, as they moved away, and was decidedly pleased with the acquisition. But he had no time to consider it, and he was, moreover, exceedingly occupied with the result of the closer scrutiny he had given to Adela.

It had confirmed his idea that there was a degree of likeness in her features to Jessie's; and the fact so impressed him, that he forgot to seize the chance which had offered of a chat with Sylv. He said to the young man only: "I want to see you soon, De Vine, about an important matter. Come up to the manor when you can."

It was impossible to keep the subject out of his mind, as he returned to the racecourse with Jessie; and it recurred again and again that night, which he pa.s.sed, with the Floyds, in the house of friends at Newbern. A whole rout of bewildering surmises and baffled guesses beset him. If Adela really looked at all like his Jessie, why, he asked himself, had not others discovered it? Why hadn't Jessie herself remarked the fact?