Kitabı oku: «Belford's Magazine, Vol 2, December 1888», sayfa 14

CHAPTER XI.
LIZZĪ STOPS A FIGHT

Saturday evening was a money-making time for the landlord of the "Three-Girls" Tavern, as the inn was familiarly called. On that evening old scores were wiped off the slate and new ones opened, to be lengthened during the coming week until on the next Saturday they followed their predecessors into Nowhere. Into Nowhere? Perhaps. But Memory hides in Nowhere, and Memory is terrifying when she catches one in a lonely way and brings him up with hair on end, as he gazes at the dog Conscience, whose leash she seems ready to let slip that he may rend the poor wayfarer. Yet, the score is erased from the landlord's slate and, it may be, from memory's tablet – for the nonce.

The usual Saturday night crowd had gathered in the bar-room, and tongues had been loosened by drink. Words flew thick and fast. Language was not choice. At short intervals there was a demand for an apology, or a fight. The McAnay brothers were there and all drinking, though not very deeply. Cassi, who was standing treat, was the centre of a group of muscular men, some of whom were intoxicated. The glasses had been filled with pure rye whiskey. They were held high in the air, then they were clinked, while the landlord bowed and smirked as he waited for the toast.

Henry Myers gave it.

"Here's ter yer and the rest uv yer family, and ter the rightin' uv yer sister's fair name."

Cassi's face flushed. Levi and Matthi scowled, but the others drank off the toast with a smack. Levi, Matthi, and Cassi did not drink, but the latter pretended to do so, holding the glass to his lips. When the others were done and the glasses rattled on the bar, he removed the glass from his lips. The whiskey was untouched. Before a question arose as to why he had not drank, he spit into the liquid and threw it into Henry's face.

"Thet's the way I drink such a toast, Hen Myers."

Henry, pale with rage and goaded by the challenge and the loud laugh that greeted Cassi's act, leaped at the latter, but was met with a blow that staggered, but did not fell him.

"Yer hed no bizness ter drag my sister's name inter this bar-room," yelled Cassi, following up his advantage and striking Henry fairly between the eyes, knocking him against the bar.

"She's dragged her own name in the mud," shouted Tom Myers, Henry's brother.

"Yer a liar!" Matthi replied.

They began to fight. Levi stood by, a smile of admiration playing around his mouth, while he urged his brothers to do their best. The crowd cleared a space. The landlord implored the fighters to cease, but their blood was hot. The spectators knew they would behold a rare struggle, with the odds against Cassi and Matthi, for the Myers brothers were notorious fighters and older men. Man to man was the rule of the Three-Sisters code of honor, and Levi stood by, ready to continue the fight in the place of the first vanquished brother.

Henry Myers rushed on Cassi again and, seizing him in his powerful arms, threw him with great force on the floor. There he lay senseless; his head had struck against the bar.

Immediately Levi, the queer, leering smile hovering around his mouth, leaped into the fray and dealt Henry a blow that shut one eye. His dexterity was applauded by the spectators, who thought it a great pity that Levi had not opened the fight instead of Cassi, who was too light for Henry, whom Levi fairly mated. Matthi was not faring well with Tom Myers, and the way the struggle was going it looked as if Levi and Tom would be left as sole contestants, when into the midst of the fighters rushed Lizzī, brandishing the poker, a long iron rod, which she had snatched from the stove as she entered.

Hunch had seen her on the opposite side of the street, and, running to her, had said, "Hooray! Lizzī, the boys is gettin' in great licks fer yer."

Pausing, she listened to his proud story of how the fight began; and, without waiting for him to conclude, crossed the street quickly and entered the tavern, the dwarf following closely.

In the low-ceilinged bar-room, where the smoke from strong pipes almost stifled her, she stood, an Amazon before whom the fighters fell back sullenly. There was majesty in her demeanor, and upon her face no sign of shame. Honest motherhood and sincere sisterly gratitude, pride, and affection flashed from her eyes, deepened the modest blush on her cheek, and trembled in her tones.

"I am thankful to you, Levi and Matthi, and to you, dear Cassi." Kneeling, she kissed the forehead of the unconscious man.

When she rose, the poker fell from her fingers and struck the floor with a dull thud. Standing firmly, with one foot advanced, she continued: "Yes, dear boys, I'm thankful to you, but my name needs no defence."

A hush followed her words, then a cheer broke involuntarily from her hearers. The Myers brothers looked at each other furtively, and a smile appeared on Levi's face, who was uninjured. Matthi, whose mouth was bleeding, betrayed by the expression of his eyes his pride in the sister for whom he had fought. Some of the spectators stepped forward to raise Cassi, but Lizzī intercepted them. Then pointing to her brother, she regally commanded the Meyers boys.

"You killed him; now take him to his old mother."

Murder! a shiver ran through the crowd.

The Myers brothers looked at the men around them. A living wall encompassed them, which at a woman's bidding would topple and crush them. They could not pierce it. Lizzī stamped her foot and startled them into action.

They lifted Cassi gently. Lizzī pointed to the door. The crowd fell back. Levi and Matthi led the way. Next them came Thomas and Henry with Cassi's limp form. Lizzī followed, and the crowd escorted them. At the edge of the assemblage were boys whose shrill voices broke the silence. Vengeance was held in abeyance by a woman's whim; and Thomas and Henry Myers walked unsteadily, fearful that, Herodias-like, she would have their heads.

Before they were half-way to the Block the constable appeared, and to the stern assemblage added the subtle, intangible when not provoked, but when angered terrible, presence of the law.

Nearer to the Block the crowd approached. Doors and windows were thrown open hastily, and broad beams of light fell across the street, while curious persons thrust out their heads to learn the cause of the unusual procession marching so grimly over the bands of light and darkness.

Nearer still to the Block the column came. Soon the heavy footsteps on the porch would strike terror to the aged mother's heart, already half broken by doubt. Soon to the feet of that doubting mother would be borne the senseless form of her youngest son, stricken down in defence of his sister's fair name. Halt, pressing crowd eager to witness a heart-break.

But the Queen had commanded, and there was no alternative.

There was a momentary halt at the door as if for orders, every man acting as if under a spell which she alone could break. But she could not speak. Her voice seemed dead in her throat.

The door was open and she saw her mother, who did not look up as Levi and Matthi entered. The Myers brothers with their burden crossed the door-sill, and Lizzī, a queen no more, but a remorseful, dejected woman, stood in the open door, with her profile to the crowd, keeping it at bay.

Mrs. McAnay was apparently asleep, and the noise of the heavy shuffling feet had not waked her. Her head rested on one hand, her elbow supported by the arm of the chair.

"Mother."

Levi spoke low.

"Mother, wake up."

He shook her gently. Her head drooped a little lower, but her eyes remained closed.

"Mother, get awake."

His voice was harsh and loud, and the shake he gave her vigorous and sudden, but her head only drooped lower.

The Myers brothers had laid Cassi on the floor at her feet, and were standing at a little distance from her. Matthi, stanching the flow of blood from his lips, stood near the door.

It was a cruel scene, this attempt on the part of an older son to arouse his mother to the knowledge of the injury done to her best beloved, and in silence the spectators beheld it.

Sharply the stillness was broken as Lizzī, with a shriek, threw herself across Cassi and buried her face in her mother's lap.

"Dead, dead!" she moaned, "Cassi and mother – and both for me!"

Cassi was restored to his senses by the jar of her fall upon him, and Thomas Myers saw in his opening eyes the return of life.

"Cassi's livin'!" he cried. "He's opened his eyes."

But only Henry Myers heeded him. The others were engrossed by the awful scene before them.

Levi and Matthi, stunned by the sudden death of their mother, were motionless. Their wits had apparently deserted them, and they were unable to comprehend the situation.

Lizzī did not remain long on her knees. Struggling to her feet, she tore open her dress at the neck, as if to give her greater freedom in breathing, but really to reach her marriage-certificate, which she snatched from the little pocket made for it and held it before her mother.

"Are your eyes open in heaven, mother? If they are, read this. You died without seein' it."

Of the gaping, mystified crowd none guessed what the crumpled paper was. Thrusting it back in its hiding-place, she turned to the wide-mouthed throng, and said:

"Leave us alone."

Slowly the burly men and curious boys went away in obedience to the pathetic command. Thomas Myers closed the door behind him, shutting Henry in, who, thoroughly repentant, remained to be of service.

Cassi, who had staggered to his feet, seeing him, made an attack upon him, muttering as he swayed in uncertain advance:

"Yer hed no bizness ter drag my sister's name inter this bar-room!"

He tried to shake off Lizzī's enfolding arms, but they held him firmly.

"It's all right, dear Cassi. You fought hard; but Hen's apologized, and if you make a noise you will wake mother. Now go to bed."

She led him to the foot of the stairs and kissed him good-night. He obeyed her, for her will was dominant in that household.

CHAPTER XII.
LIZZĪ PROVES HER INNOCENCE

When Cassi had entered his room, Lizzī lifted her mother and laid her on her bed. Then she sent Levi for Margaret Reed, a little, winning, sympathetic woman who was summoned on all occasions. In times of sorrow she shed a soft radiance on darkened hearts, and in times of rejoicing she was bright as the sunshine. "Send for Gret" – no one called her Mrs. Reed; toddlers said "Det" – was the suggestion of sadness, the impulse of joy, and Gret, childless herself, but mother to all the babies and sister to all the mothers of the village, answered every call.

She had no rebuke for Henry Myers, whom she met as she entered the McAnay home, except such as just hearts will sometimes express by an unconscious manner of repugnance. Henry was sensitive enough to feel it, and he departed cursing himself bitterly.

Gret went straight to Lizzī, and felt like a giantess as the latter knelt before her and clung to her dress.

"I killed her, Gret; I killed her. I never told her, and it broke her heart; and I am a murderer, worse than Henry Myers would have been if he had killed Cassi. She couldn't think it was all right, and when she heard the boys was fighting for me, she couldn't stand it any longer and just died where I left her. And I was so crazy to have Cassi brought home, so I could say to her, 'There, mother, you see how he believed in me, fightin' till he died;' but the Lord shut her eyes so she couldn't see the cruel sight. Yes, I'm punished for my stubborn silence. If I had showed it to her she wouldn't have died so sudden."

Gret did not invite confidence by asking Lizzī what she should have shown her mother.

"And poor father," Lizzī continued, "away out in the cabin alone, his wife dead and his daughter disgraced – how will I tell him that mother is dead?"

"I'll send Seth," said Gret; "and while he is gone we must get your mother ready for the grave."

Gret went out, and soon came back with the news that Seth was on his way to Peter McAnay's cabin.

Lizzī was more composed, and assisted Gret in preparing the body for burial.

It was near daybreak when Peter reached his home. Gret met him at the door. Levi, Matthi, and Cassi rose to receive him. They had been sitting in the room where their mother died. Blind Benner lay asleep on a bench, and Hunch was crouching in a corner. Lizzī was with the dead. She heard her father's voice in response to the greeting of her brothers, but did not move from her knees.

Her father's step on the stairs told of his approach. She bowed her head lower and clasped her hands. Her posture was one of utter dejection. Her father stood over her. She did not move. He spoke to her. She did not reply.

He glanced at the bed, and saw how tastefully she had dressed her mother for the grave. He could see through the mist in his eyes that the dress was not stiff in its folds, but gracefully draped the rigid form. He was touched by the natural arrangement of the snow-white hair.

"Yer hev drest yer mother pretty, Lizzī; she's sleepin' nateral."

This broke Lizzī down completely, and she fell forward, with her face between her father's boots and her arms outstretched.

"Oh, father, forgive me for bein' so bad! I killed mother. I killed her by not tellin'."

When Lizzī began to speak, Levi closed the stair door. The noise he made, though not loud, was sufficient to wake Blind Benner. By Levi's direction, Hunch led the blind man to his home.

Lizzī lay on the floor moaning and calling herself "a bad, bad woman."

Her father's heart almost burst. Could it be after all that she was dishonest? Could it be that her mother had read her aright? Could it be that she had cruelly encouraged his faith in her, knowing the certainty of his discovery of the truth at last? No, no; it could not be. In his desperation he became calm, with the forced self-control that makes many a man firm on the gallows. His tones had not a ring of hope as he said:

"Don't grovel there, Lizzī. Stand up. There's yer old dead mother, and here's yer old dyin' father. Git up and face her and me, and tell the truth, and it all too, mind."

His voice grew sharp and commanding; never had he spoken so sternly to her. She slowly lifted herself and looked first at the dead, then at her father. A shudder passed over her. He mistook her manner for fear, and was convinced she had deceived him. Taking one step forward, he lifted his hand to strike her and huskily exclaimed:

"You hussy!"

A spasm passed over her face, then she calmly awaited the blow. The look in her eyes checked it. When his hand fell to his side, she spoke:

"I forgive you, father, for the dead mother's sake."

Her tones were deep and tender, and he bowed before the majesty of unsullied womanhood. He knew without further assurance that she was pure.

"Call the boys," she said in quiet command. He obeyed her, and her brothers promptly responded. For a moment she gazed upon them tenderly as they stood mutely expectant behind their father; and then, with one of her royal gestures, put her hand to her neck and tore open her dress, exposing her bosom.

"My heart's white as that," she said, tapping with her finger-tips the fair skin, "and there's the proof of it."

She handed her marriage-certificate to her father with manner as stately as if it were the title to a throne. His hands trembled so he could not grasp it, and it fell to the floor. Levi picked it up.

"Read it to us, Lizzī," he requested.

"No, I want you to see it and read it for yourselves."

Then he read it aloud. They were overjoyed at this confirmation of their faith in her. Peter fell on his daughter's neck and begged her forgiveness. With a kiss she sealed it, already granted.

When she could control her voice she said: "John's mother was opposed to our marriage, and threatened to cut him out of her property. John is dead, or he would have come back to me."

Lizzī had schooled herself, and was able to utter that sentence as she would have told a bit of ordinary news.

"So I never told you, and let mother die without knowin' I wasn't bad, because I don't want John's mother to know he left a wife, for she would cut me off without anything, and after a while I might want to claim her property for John's child."

"Oh!" said Cassi, a vision of wealth gleaming before him.

"Oh!" echoed Matthi, glad of Lizzī's prospects.

"Ah!" ejaculated Levi, seeing ahead a sensational lawsuit that would likely come on by the time he was admitted to practice and make him famous.

But the father said:

"I hope Gill's money will come ter yer, Lizzī; but I'm gladder of thet writin' than if yer had the wealth of Nebuchadnezzar. I'd a great deal rather see you eatin' grass and know yer was clean, than have yer livin' in a king's palace, foul."

It was a thrilling speech dramatically delivered.

"And you'll keep my secret, boys? Tell them to, father."

"We will," they answered, without waiting for their father's command, and speaking earnestly, as if they took an oath.

From downstairs came a rattling of the stove doors. Gret, unconscious of the dramatic incident upstairs, was getting breakfast. She did not wonder why Peter had called his sons. She was not inquisitive, not officious, but sympathetic and helpful.

"I must tell one woman," Lizzī said, "for I can't bear to have all my sex have a bad opinion of me. So I'll tell Gret Reed. Levi, you go down and help her a minute, while I tidy up a bit."

Gret had breakfast on the table when Lizzī came downstairs, and the hungry brothers had taken their seats. Peter stood at the foot of the table. Gret was at Lizzī's accustomed place; the mother's chair at the head of the table was vacant. Lizzī went to Gret: "You take mother's place."

"No, Lizzī, that is your seat now. I will sit where you used to."

Gret would not yield to Lizzī's urgent request.

"Then," said Lizzī, "I can't sit there till you read that and know I don't shame my mother's place."

"Why, Lizzī!" Gret began in protest, but Lizzī interrupted:

"Read it; you have trusted me, and I'll trust you."

Gret took the marriage-certificate, read it, and returned it without a word. A soft smile was the only indication of joy at Lizzī's vindication.

"I have good reason for wantin' nobody else to know it' Gret. Now sit down to breakfast."

CHAPTER XIII.
AN OATH

"It's not worth the paper it's written on, except to show us our sister is pure."

Levi addressed his father and brothers in the school-room on the Sunday following his mother's funeral. He referred to the marriage-certificate which Lizzī guarded so carefully.

Hunch Blair lay close to the floor, under a desk which protected him from discovery. During the day he had heard Levi tell Cassi to come to the school-house in the evening. Suspecting something interesting, he got there before the McAnays.

"It's no good, I say," Levi continued, "and there's nothing left for us to do but bring the sneak back and have Parson Lawrence marry him and Lizzī. And if he won't come, why, settle with him, that's all."

"Yes, tar and feather and then burn him," suggested Matthi as his idea of settlement.

"No, lynch him," Cassi advised.

"Well, we must lose no time," said Levi.

"But Lizzī believes Gill is dead," Peter remarked.

"Dead nothin'," replied the stolid Matthi. "He's most likely foolin' another girl some place, and I'd like ter git a chance ter put a stop to his gallantin'."

Matthi made a gesture suggestive of wringing the neck of a chicken.

"Come, boys," Levi said, "let's swear. Join your right hands to mine above our father's head. Now say, we are three brothers whose sister has been deeply wronged, and we do swear in the presence of our aged father and upon our honor as men to seek John Gillfillan, our sister's betrayer, and compel him to return to her and make her his wife, and if he will not, to avenge our sister's honor by his blood."

"We swear," they all said solemnly, after the formula had been repeated.

Peter bowed his approval, and encouraged them by saying:

"Go to-morrer, boys, and God bless ye. I'll take care of Lizzī."

Levi pulled from his pocket some money, not very much, although it was the savings of two years, and began counting it in the moonlight, while the others watched him curiously. He fingered the bills fondly. He slowly dropped the gold coins into his hat, and listened with evident delight to the clinking of the falling pieces. He held the silver close to the window, and looked from it to the gold, from the gold to the moon.

"The moon is a silver dollar, and the sun is a twenty-dollar gold-piece."

About to make a sacrifice, he said a silly thing that his father and brothers should think he gave easily and without pain.

"There, father," he said, turning first the silver, then the gold, into his father's hat, and on top of the yellow and argent pile laying the paper money, "there, father, that's for Lizzī, and will keep her until we come back, bringing her husband. If we don't find him, we'll work for her."

Peter, seized with a fit of trembling, sat down helplessly, and picking up the hat, ran his fingers among the coins, clinking them. Cassi and Matthi looked on in quiet admiration, both wishing heartily that the balance due them on the furnace books was not so light. Although half ashamed to place his small savings beside Levi's princely gift, Matthi remarked:

"Guess if we put our money together it would look bigger, Cassi."

"Kind of small potatoes beside of Levi's pile," Cassi replied; "but if Levi will write us an order, we'll sign it, hey, Matthi?"

Levi had with him an inkstand, a then new invention for the pocket, and pen and paper. He wrote the order in the moonlight, and the brothers signed it.

"God bless ye all!" exclaimed Peter as he received the order. "Ye are the best sons any man ever had. Oh! if yer mother's lookin' down on us, she's not ashamed ter hold her head up among the angels, 'less she feels bad 'bout not believin' in Lizzī." He put the money and order in his pocket. When they were secure, Levi hoisted a window on the dark side of the school-house and crawled through it. Then he helped his father out, and the others followed. For a moment they stood under the trees and breathed the resinous atmosphere of the woods just budding.

There was a silent shake of the father's trembling hand by each son in turn, and then they parted.

Lizzī got the usual early Monday breakfast, but made places for four only. Levi's school was closed for the year, and she meant he should enjoy a long morning nap if he chose. Her father came down, and she inquired if he had called Matthi and Cassi.

"I looked in their room, but they're up," he replied.

"Up? Funny I didn't hear them. Wonder where they could have gone this time in the morning without any breakfast."

"There's no tellin'," was Peter's answer.

Father and daughter ate silently. When his hunger was satisfied, Peter kissed her and, taking his axe and bundle, departed to the chopping.

The morning slipped by. Matthi and Cassi did not return, and Levi's sleep seemed endless. Lizzī went to his door and listened, but heard no sound. Pushing the door open a little, she looked in. The room was empty. The bed had not been slept in that night. On the wash-stand lay a note addressed to her in Levi's writing.

"Dear Lizzī: We have gone to find out for you all about John Gillfillan.

Your Three Brothers."

"Father knew it," she said, with a soft smile. "I hope the boys will bring me good news; but I know John is dead."

She had not wept for her husband, but for him a constant stream of grief flowed through her being, a river of soul-tears, no sound of its current rising to the surface.

She was almost entirely alone now. No one came to see her except Gret Reed and Mrs. Hornberger. Even Blind Benner and Hunch seemed to have deserted her, for they were missing from the town.