Читать книгу: «Carolina Lee», страница 14

CHAPTER XXII
IN THE VOODOO'S CAVE

As Carolina felt the rain drenching her to the skin, the thought came to her, "This is the first time in all my life that I ever was thoroughly wet with rain, yet to how many of the less favoured ones of earth this must be no unusual occurrence. How sheltered my life has been!"

And the thought of God's protection went with her as she approached the motionless figure under the pines.

At first Carolina took the woman to be a quadroon, but, on a nearer view, she saw that none of the features was African. Rather the high cheekbones and sombre eyes suggested the Indian.

The woman held out her hand, and, as Carolina yielded hers, the woman said, in a voice whose tones vibrated with a resemblance to Flower's:

"You must come with me. You will not be afraid. You are a Lee. I have been waiting a long, long time to get speech with you, but your wet clothes must be dried. Will you follow me?"

"Willingly," said Carolina, gently.

The woman did not smile, but her face lighted.

"You will not be sorry," she said, tersely. Then she turned and led the way.

The rain still came down in torrents, but, as Carolina was already wet through, she thoroughly enjoyed the novel sensation. She remembered how often, as a child, she had begged to be allowed to go out and get sopping wet-just once! – and had been denied.

Suddenly the woman paused.

"Do you know where we are?" she said.

Carolina looked around, but could see no possible place of concealment. The ground was flat and somewhat rocky. The river made a sudden bend here, and in this clearing lay huge pieces of rock half-embedded in the soil. The timber had been cut, and now a second growth of scrubby trees had grown up, hedging the spot in a thicket of underbrush.

"No," said Carolina. "I never was here before."

"But you will come many times again," said the woman. "Look!"

She knelt in the sand and scratched away with both hands at the base of a great rock, until she came to its edge. Then with one hand she pushed, and the great boulder was balanced so neatly on its fellow that it slid back, revealing a natural cave.

The cool, underground air came in a wave to Carolina's nostrils, laden with mystery. Only one moment she hesitated.

"You are sure we can get out?" she said.

"I am sure. From where I stand I can see through this underground passage the sail of a ship on the ocean. But this rock will not slip. Watch me."

She was already in the cave, and she reached out, and, with apparently little effort, pulled the boulder into place, closing herself in. Carolina put her hand under the rock and felt its perfect balance give. She herself opened the cave again.

"I will come," said Carolina. "Have you a light?"

Never could she forget the hour which followed. She sat in this cavern, wrapped in an Indian blanket, watching her thin clothes dry before the fire the woman had kindled and listening to the following story:

"I have watched you," said the Indian, "ever since you came, and when I found that you were the one to cause my daughter to take her rightful place in the La Grange family-you start. Flower is my own daughter. I am a half-breed Indian. My name is Onteora. Both my grandfather and his father were chiefs of the Cherokee tribe. I am a direct descendant of the great chief Attakullakulla, friendly to your people, who, in 1761, made peace between the Cherokees and the great war governor, Bull. My father married a white woman of good family, named Janet Christopher. I, too, married white blood. I was married by Father Hennessey, the Jesuit priest, to a Frenchman named Pierre Pellisier, who died in Charleston in 1889. I have the documents to prove all these things. Here, I will show them to you.

"I am educated beyond my class. I speak French. I can read and write, but no one knows what I can do, because I have lived as an Indian woman in order to avert suspicion from my child. All my children died except Flower. She was my baby, – pure white, as you see, and so pretty! Miss Le Moyne, who educated Flower, knew the truth. We agreed upon terms. Miss Le Moyne would have gone to the poorhouse if it had not been for the money I gave her every week for the care of Flower. And yet she would have betrayed the secret she swore by her crucifix to keep, if death had not struck her dumb just in time!"

"But why," interrupted Carolina, "did you not come forward after Flower's marriage and tell the La Granges of her honourable birth? It is a proud heritage to have the blood of kings run in her veins."

Onteora shook her head.

"The time was not ripe. It needed you to open their eyes. Now they will listen because Fleur-de-lys has found a friend! You have rescued her from their contempt. You have rescued my grandson from blindness-a blindness I knew the moment I looked at him. And for that reason I have a gift for the daughter of the Lees-a gift she will not despise!"

Onteora disappeared and when she came back she held in one hand two silver coasters, beautifully carved and inscribed in French, "From the Marquis de La Fayette to his friend Moultrie Lee, Esquire, of Guildford, 1784." And in the other a large silver tankard engraved, "To Major-General Gadsden Lee, of Guildford, from his obliged friend, George Washington, 1791."

Carolina's shining eyes were lifted from the massive silver pieces to Onteora's face. The woman nodded.

"The famous Lee silver! I have it all! It was I who removed it and hid it here. It was in 1866, before I was married. I tracked 'Polyte and her husband to its hiding-place and took it away. No one ever knew-not even my husband! I never knew why I kept it secret. I saw the rewards offered. I could have been rich. I could have dowered Fleur-de-lys so that even the La Granges would have welcomed her. But something told me to wait. Wait! Wait! Now, I know why. It was to give it to you in return for my child's happiness! If I had returned it for the money, that money would have gone to help ruin the La Granges, and I should have come to you empty-handed!"

The woman was barbaric in this speech. She showed her Indian blood, her Indian power, her Indian patience.

Carolina reached out her hand and Onteora took it in both of hers.

"What do you wish me to do?" Carolina asked, gently.

"Take these," said Onteora with sudden passion, thrusting the documents toward Carolina, "and show them to the La Granges!"

She sprang to her feet and folded her arms in a matchless pride.

She was, in truth, an Indian.

The rain had ceased and Carolina's things were dried. Onteora helped her to dress, her eyes shining with delight at Carolina's beauty, but she expressed nothing in words.

"Come and see your silver," she said.

She led Carolina to a smaller cavern, where, by the light of a candle, Carolina could see the black shapes of all the silver Cousin De Courcey had described to her. But so cunningly was this cavern concealed, that even one who discovered the cave wherein they stood would never have found the cavern.

"It reminds me of Monte Cristo!" she said to herself in the breathless delight every one feels at the touch of the romantic and mysterious in a humdrum daily life.

Then, as she realized the boundless Source of Supply whence this precious silver and thrice precious information had come, Carolina turned and put her arms around Onteora.

At this sign of human love, tears filled the eyes of the Indian.

CHAPTER XXIII
LOOSE THREADS

Mrs. Goddard alone knew of Carolina's discouragements, disappointments, and dangers, as the summer came and went. To all others the girl turned a smiling face, and Mrs. La Grange often wondered at her courage. How could she know that there were times when that sorely tried courage ebbed so low that many a cipher telegram winged its soft way to her practitioner for help, and that the battle with tears and disheartenment was fought out alone in the silence and sanctuary of her closet?

Often things went very wrong. She was cheated by men because she was a woman. She was hated by the rural doctors because she healed diseases. She was an object of suspicion among the neighbours because she was not "orthodox." She was accused of inciting the negroes to an idea of social equality because she taught them. Father Hennessey gave her all the trouble he could, but Carolina's constant and unvarying kindness to the poor in his parish finally drove him to an armed neutrality. He hated her, but dared not show it too openly, because she had powerful influence back of her. The La Granges rose to her defence en masse, and carried all their enormous relationship with them. Carolina had removed the largest blot from their escutcheon, and no price was too great to pay. Flower became the pet of the whole family, and, in their gratitude, they even endeavoured to provide for Onteora, but that wise woman, having seen justice meted out to her child, silently disappeared, and, beyond knowing that she lived and wanted for nothing, they could discover no more about her.

She was not too far away, however, to keep the unruly negroes in order, and many a warning went out from the voodoo when Carolina's interests were jeopardized.

'Polyte's surveillance was something Carolina had not bargained for. At first his devotion was engendered by gratitude for the trust she placed in him, and fear, for he knew that she actually held over him the power of life and death. Even if she were ignorant of the true significance of that meeting in the woods, at what moment might not some stray anecdote bring home to her its meaning? 'Polyte was no fool, and there were times when he writhed in a hell of fear.

Then gradually Carolina's personality began to gain ascendency over him, as it had over Tempy and Calla and Rose Maud, and even flighty ones like Lily and her kind, and he worshipped her as a superior being. Carolina embodied to the negroes the old times of prosperity and the patriarchal protection of the whites. They liked the idea of the restoration of the old Guildford mansion. Aged negroes, who had known the place in its prime, heard of its rebuilding and journeyed back many weary miles to see "old mahstah's" granddaughter, and to test her hospitality. Several of these Carolina annexed and housed in the clean and shining new quarters, and she was amply repaid by their real knowledge of past events and their idolatry of herself as the last of the Lees.

'Polyte studied her every whim, and carried it out with the zeal of a fetich.

The mare Araby became her property almost by magic. 'Polyte would never say one word concerning it, but one day Barnwell Mazyck sent word to Carolina that she could have the mare on her own terms, only he felt obliged to warn her that Araby had turned vicious.

'Polyte spoke only one sentence.

"Ef you tek her, missy, she won't trick you!"

"Oh, 'Polyte!" cried Carolina, "what have you been doing?"

"Not a t'ing, Miss Callina. Honest! Only I raised dat mah, en I knows huh!"

Carolina still hesitated until Moultrie brought word that Araby had nipped at Barney's hand, and in a rage he had kicked her. After that, the mare would not allow him to approach, but even at the sight of him she would rear, bite, and kick, so that, being quite useless to her owner, he proposed to sell her, – if not to Carolina, then to some one else.

Hearing that decided the girl. She bought Araby, and sent 'Polyte to fetch her.

The beautiful creature proved as gentle as a lamb, and, even on the day when 'Polyte led her up for Carolina to see, she nosed her new mistress lovingly.

"Why, she seems just as usual," said Carolina, but she did not see 'Polyte's heaving shoulders and convulsed face.

Thus, for the most part, the negroes were Carolina's friends. They not only stood in awe of her body-guard, 'Polyte, who knew them root and branch, good and bad alike, but their childish vanity was tickled by the beauty of the small white marble chapel Carolina built on the estate, which had an organ and stained-glass windows and a gallery for negroes.

This had been Mr. Howard's gift to the little band of Christian Scientists which he had found on his first trip down South, meeting every Sunday on Carolina's cottage porch, which, vine-shaded and screened and furnished daintily, was as large as the cottage itself. He took infinite pleasure in furnishing the finest material and in rushing the work with Northern energy, and personally supervising the building.

He well knew that he could please Carolina in no better way, and, when Rosemary Goddard's husband, the Honourable Lionel Spencer, became president of the turpentine company, which was organized on the basis of Carolina's investigations, and confirmed by Mr. Howard's agents, and it became necessary for the Spencers to live in South Carolina, Rosemary was elected first reader of the little church, and Carolina offered them the use of her cottage until they could build, while she and Cousin Lois took possession of the now completed Guildford mansion.

Things were prospering with the La Grange family. Peachie had become engaged to Sir Hubert Wemyss, who, urged by the example of his friend Lionel Spencer, and the enormous profits of the turpentine company, had invested largely, and, after taking Peachie to England to meet his family and make her bow as Lady Wemyss to the king and queen, he promised to return to America for half of the year.

Carolina went to New York twice during the summer, and visited Sherman and Addie at their camp in the Adirondacks.

To her surprise, she found Colonel Yancey there. He had paid one or two mysterious visits to his sisters at Whitehall, and had been deeply pleased to discover that they were both members of the little Christian Science church there. He even went so far as to ask Carolina to organize a Sunday school, which had not then been done, and to enroll Emmeline and Gladys as its first members.

He also took this opportunity, let it be said, to offer himself to Carolina again, but promised her, if she refused him this time, after he had declared himself a believer in the new thought, that he would never trouble her again.

Mr. Howard viewed Colonel Yancey's conversion to Christian Science with amused toleration, but Carolina, who knew why, held steadfastly to the thought that there can be no dishonesty in the perfect man, and so firmly did she cling to this affirmation that, when Colonel Yancey, in the Adirondacks, announced that the old oil wells had again begun to yield, and that all the money which she and Sherman had considered lost was by way of being restored to them, Carolina resolutely closed her eyes to any investigations which might unearth disagreeable discoveries, even opposing her best friend, Mr. Howard, in this decision, and simply opened her arms to her reappearing fortune and her heart in gratitude therefor.

Neither she nor Mrs. Goddard was even surprised.

"From the moment I knew that the man's change of heart was sincere and that he was a true Christian Scientist, I knew this restoration must come," she said, "otherwise no blessing of peace nor untroubled night's sleep could come to him. Christian Science lays bare the very root of error, and when error is recognized in the light of day, it must disappear from the heart of an honest man."

But Carolina only said in the depths of her own soul:

"See what Divine Love hath wrought!"

There were changes, too, going on in Moultrie. He had never repeated his declaration of love to Carolina, but in every unobtrusive way he made her feel that she was surrounded by it, while as to the lesson she had conveyed to him in that one stinging sentence, which was never absent from the minds of either of them, it was his mother who brought word of its effect.

"Carolina, child, I never saw such a change in any man in my life, as there is in Moultrie. He has subscribed for three or four Northern newspapers, and as to books! Not novels, mind you. They are histories and biographies and Congressional reports, – the driest things! Peachie and I tried to read them, but we couldn't, and, when I asked Moultrie if he were getting ready to write a book, he answered me in such a short way, 'No, mother. I am only trying to educate myself for the first time.' 'Oh, son!' I said, for I assure you I was hurt to hear my son, who has had the best education of any of the boys around here, speak as if he weren't satisfied with his education. But he only patted my head and said he was only studying now for a purpose. What do you reckon it is?"

"He has said nothing to me about it," said Carolina, but Mrs. La Grange noticed her scarlet cheeks, and, thinking it might be only a self-conscious blush, dropped the subject.

Moultrie had asked Carolina if he might write to her while she was away, and she had assented, though with fear and trembling, for some of the letters she had received on business from various people contained serious shocks for a fastidious and cultivated mind, but Moultrie's letters proved a pleasant surprise. Not only were they correctly written and correctly spelled, but in them he had dared to let himself go as he never had done in conversation, and Carolina found not only a distinct literary style but an imagination which astonished her. Although he carefully avoided subjects which had been discussed between them, he showed a breadth and largeness of view which could only come from a wider vision of things in general.

Then came the time, after Carolina's return, when the great turpentine company was being organized, backed by unlimited capital, and destined to corner the market "for educational purposes," as Kate put it, when there arose a crying need for an honest Southern man, one who knew the country well, one who possessed the confidence of the sly, tricky crackers, – those crackers so crafty that straight-forward dealing is impossible, – who possess little sense of honour, who are prejudiced beyond belief, narrow beyond credence, ignorant beyond imagination, who are only honest under compulsion, and who require the greatest tact, not to say craft, in handling. These are the men who, for the most part, produce the orchard turpentine, and who, for the company's purpose, had to be tied up by contract in long leases. A Northern man could not have touched them. They will deal only with their own, and even then must be "managed."

For two months the organization of the company was held up because no one could be found capable of filling this delicate position.

Then, to the relief of all, and to Carolina's secret delight, Moultrie La Grange offered himself, and, upon being instantly accepted, upon Mr. Howard's and Carolina's advice, he leased them the stumpage rights of Sunnymede, and then and there was born the purpose to restore the home of the La Granges, even as Carolina had restored Guildford-out of money earned by the place itself.

CHAPTER XXIV
THE HOUSE-PARTY ARRIVES

Ever since the restoration of Guildford had been an assured fact, Carolina had looked forward to gathering the dearest of her friends and relatives under its roof for a housewarming, and as Thanksgiving Day was the first festival to occur after its completion, she issued her invitations for that day, and anticipated the arrival of her guests with a heart so full of gratitude that she walked with her head in the clouds.

Beautiful Guildford stood upon its ancient site, more beautiful by far than it ever had been before, for Carolina had allowed herself a few liberties, which, after seeing, even Judge Fanshaw Lee approved.

For example, the great flight of steps, as broad as an ordinary house, was lengthened to raise the house to an even more commanding position, and to allow a better view of the ocean and river from the upper windows and the flat, railed-in roof. In the midst of this great flight of steps was a platform, where twenty persons might have dined at ease, with a collateral flight of steps on each side, leading, as well as the second section of the central staircase, to the porch. No one who has not seen Guildford can form any idea of the imposing beauty of this snowy expanse of steps leading to its veranda. And such a veranda! Surely, the observer exclaimed, the whole house could be no larger! so great was the idea its size first induced. It ran around all four sides of the house, and was lived in for fully nine months of the year. It was fitted with screens and glass, which could be removed at will, but for her house-party, so perfect was the weather, even these slight obstructions to the view were dispensed with.

Inside the house, however, Carolina had carried out the original plan, with only the necessary additions of bathrooms to each suite and plenty of closets, which the old Guildford had never possessed. This did not interfere with the installation of the great carved wardrobes, without which no Southern house could look natural to a Southerner.

These she designed from old cuts and had made to order, preferring new ones exactly like those which had been in the family for generations to purchasing old pieces which rightly belonged to other histories than hers. Guildford was frankly a restoration, so she boldly reproduced the furniture as well as the house.

With the papering she had some difficulty. No one could remember the exact patterns, and there was more friction over diverse recollections of wallpaper than over any other point. But Carolina waived all advice finally, deciding that decorations were but temporary at best, and resting upon the absolute word of Judge Fanshaw Lee, of Charleston, that Guildford had been utterly redecorated in 1859.

This decision gave Carolina a free hand, and she exercised her taste to such good purpose that the new Guildford, in its decorations, maintained an air of age, yet so skilfully was it done that it was also essentially modern. Only patterns were used which had borne the test of time, as one who discarded in cut glass the showier designs for the dignified simpler patterns, considering them more restful to live with than those more ornate and modern.

In her cut glass Carolina had been more fortunate, owing to the possession of a few precious pieces, preserved among the Lees, from which to design. The largest was a huge épergne, with glittering pendants, which rose almost to the chandelier, and was designed for pyramids of fruit. It was so delightfully old-fashioned that Carolina viewed it with clasped hands.

Although electric light glowed unobtrusively from submerged globes in walls and ceilings, Carolina used sconces for the wax tapers of her ancestors, and the delicate light was so deftly shaded and manipulated that it seemed only to aid and abet the candles.

The central staircase of the house rose from the midst of a square hall, turned on a broad landing, and wound, in two wings, back upon itself to reach the second floor. On this landing was an enormous window, cushioned and comfortable, from which the view of the fallow fields and winding river was quite as attractive as the front view, which gave upon the distant ocean.

The main hall pierced the roof, in the centre of which was a gorgeous skylight of stained glass. Here, too, Carolina had departed from the lines of ancient Guildford, for no less a hand than that of John La Farge designed that graceful group, whose colours drenched the marble floor beneath with all the colours of the rainbow.

A high carved balustrade ran around this space on the second floor, from behind which, in years gone by, the children and black mammies had viewed the arrival of distinguished guests, whose visits had helped to make Guildford famous.

From this square space, transverse halls ran each way, with suites of rooms on both sides, ending in doors which led to the upper porch, as large and commodious and more beautiful than the lower, because the view was finer.

This gives an idea of the plan of Guildford, but not necessarily of other Southern houses, unless you go back to old New Orleans, for Guildford partook largely of the beauty of the Creole estates, owing to the originator of the present design, who had felt the influence of many foreign countries in his travels. Returning to spend the remainder of his life in his native land, he had built Guildford-a mansion in those days-in 1703, on the site of the first house, built originally in 1674. Thus, the Guildford which Carolina built was the third actual house to bear that name.

The morning of Thanksgiving Day dawned clear, cool, and beautiful. Carolina was up at sunrise, full of delightful anticipations, and as brimming with zeal for the pleasure of her guests as any young bride in her first house.

Mr. Howard was bringing most of his guests in his car, and only yesterday she had received a telegram from him saying: "Am bringing an extra guest, an old friend of yours, as a surprise. Due Enterprise nine A.M. to-morrow. All Lees aboard."

Just as he had anticipated, this threw her into a fever of curiosity. It must be some one who would be congenial, yet she fancied she had asked everybody who seemed to belong. Who could the newcomer be? Man or woman? Old or young?

"All Lees aboard." That meant that Sherman and Addie had decided to come, after all. She wondered if they had brought the children. All Lees. That must mean the children, because she had invited them. All Lees, – that meant also the Fanshaw Lees, of Charleston, whom he had promised to pick up on the way. But who could the other be? Carolina almost shook the scrap of yellow paper to make it divulge the secret. How uncommunicative telegrams can be!

There was plenty of room at Guildford, – that was fortunate. And every room was in order. She would give him (?) her (?) the violet room and bath in the south wing. But if she only knew!

Rosemary and her husband were comfortably ensconced in the cottage, and had asked to have Mrs. Goddard under their own roof. Colonel Yancey and his children would, of course, be the guests of Mrs. Pringle at Whitehall, but Carolina expected as her very own, Mr. and Mrs. Howard, Kate, Noel, and Sir Hubert Wemyss, Judge Fanshaw Lee and his wife and children, from Charleston, Cousin De Courcey Lee, Aunt Evelyn Lee, Aunt Isabel and Uncle Gordon Fitzhugh, with the children, Eppie, Marie, Teddy, and Bob.

Every neighbour within a radius of twenty miles was anxious to help Carolina entertain her guests. Moultrie had arranged a hunt, Aunt Angie was to give an oyster roast on the shore, Colonel Yancey had declared for an old-fashioned barbecue, whereat all the negroes promptly lost their minds. Mrs. Gordon Fitzhugh, after consulting Carolina's plans, advised a fishing-party and picnic, rather an oddity in November, with everything to be cooked on the ground, including a 'possum with sweet potatoes. Carolina greeted each of these proposals with tears in her eyes. Never before had she been so loved! Hitherto, she had been surrounded by courtiers, flattered and admired, always, however, with a generous appreciation of favours to come.

But here, she was with her own, and her own had received her with open arms and taken her into their inmost hearts.

As Carolina walked in her garden, after her morning canter on Araby, she wondered if any one on earth was so fortunate as she.

A messenger came up the broad avenue, and Carolina went to meet him. It was with a note from Mrs. Barnwell, saying that she was sending the carryall to the station at Enterprise, for fear Carolina, at the last moment, might not have room for all her guests.

The Barnwells' carryall! Carolina gave a laugh that was half a sob, to think of the part that ancient vehicle had played in her life during the last year. The neighbours had not seen the glistening carriages and automobiles which stood as impatiently as inanimate things so beautiful and alert can be, – inanimate things which know that they can go. She turned to the messenger.

"Give my love to Mrs. Barnwell, Sam, and say that I will ride home in the carryall myself, and that I thank her for her kindness. Can you remember that, or shall I write a note?"

"I kin 'member it, Miss Calline. Thank you, ma'am!"

Mrs. Barnwell subsequently got a message from Sam to the effect that "Miss Calline sed she'd 'a' had to walk her own self ef Mrs. Barnwell hadn't 'a' sont de ca'yall." Which is about as accurate as any message can be after going through the brain of a negro.

Finally it was time to go to the train. Carolina had no fear that the train carrying the car of a president of a Northern road would be late, so she hurried Rosemary and Lionel and Cousin Lois into her big blue French touring-car, and started.

As they sped down the great avenue, Carolina looked back at Guildford, as a mother looks back at her first-born child. There rose the beautiful house, just as the strangers would get their first glimpse of it; for the last time the Howards came South, only a dim idea of it could have been obtained.

There was not a hint of frost as yet. Late roses bloomed riotously in the garden, which Carolina had been tending for the last eight months with a view to this very day. She had planned well. She did not intend to have a rebuilt Guildford look down upon patches of brown earth, remains of mortar beds, and broken-down shrubbery. Every day she had cautioned the workmen against destroying any of her outdoor work, and, as fast as she could, she had made the gardens, the lawns, and the hedges keep pace with the builders, so that everything might be completed practically at the same time. A dozen black forms were hurrying hither and thither, bent on carrying out "lill mistis's last orders." The quarters glistened in the sunshine, even the dogs asleep on the steps were just as Carolina had pictured Guildford in her childish dreams in Paris.

It was a very excited little group which stood on the tiny platform at Enterprise, waiting for the train.

Finally, only half an hour late, its warning whistle sounded, and scarcely had the brakes squeaked, when Mr. Howard sprang from the forward end of the rear car, followed by-Doctor Colfax!