The Jucklins Part 19

Not far away there was a wooden bridge over a small stream and thither I went and leaned upon the rail, listening to the murmur of the water. I thought that this must be the brook that rippled past our house, and I went down to the water's edge and bathed my aching head. Then I remembered that I had eaten nothing since early morning, and I thought that I would better go to the tavern, and was turning away when I heard some one cry: "The jury is in and court has met again!" I scrambled up and hastened toward the court-house, and at the steps I met a number of men coming out. "It's all over," one of them said to me. "Imprisonment for life. Conkwright has moved for a new trial and the judge has granted it."

I hastened to the jail, whither they had taken Alf. I found him seated on his bed. He got up when he saw me.

"Bill," he said, in a voice low and steady, "I am not going to the penitentiary if you are my friend."

"And you know that I am, Alf."

"Then you will lend me your knife."

"No, Alf, I can't do that--not now. Remember that we have another chance."

"I don't mean now--I mean if that last chance fails. Now I want you to do something for me. You tell father that he must sell his farm immediately and leave here. Tell him that I'll hate him if he doesn't do as I say. You can stay here and write to him, and if I don't come out at the next trial, all right, and if I do, I can go to him. It may seem hard, but he's got to do it. He wouldn't live here, any way. Will you do it?"

"I will, for I don't know but it is a good plan. No, he wouldn't live here. He will do as you request."

"Well, go on home now and rest. Hanged if you don't look as if you've been on trial for your life," he added, laughing. "Tell him that I'm not crushed--that it has come out better than I expected."

The night was dark, the road was desolate, and I heard the lonesome lowing of the cattle. And now and then a horseman pa.s.sed me, for I was not eager to get home. At a gate near the road-side some one was standing with a lantern, and just behind me came the rattle of an old vehicle. I turned aside to let it pa.s.s, and as I did the light of the lantern fell upon me and a voice asked: "That you, Mr. Hawes?"

"Yes," I answered, turning back into the road and following a buggy.

"I 'lowed so," said a man in the buggy, "for we don't grow many of your size about here. I have heard that they used to, but they don't now.

Good many things have happened since that day you come over to see me about the school. I'm Perdue. And, by the way, there's a hundred dollars at my house waitin' for you, and if you don't come after it I'll send it over."

"But you don't owe me anything yet," I replied.

"Yes, the money's there and it's yourn. You couldn't help not bein' in a fix to teach. As I say, it's there for you, and you might as well have it. Sorry for the old folks, tell 'em, but it can't be helped."

On he drove, shouting back that he would send the money the next day, and my protest, if, indeed, I entered one, was weak and faltering, for of all men in that neighborhood I thought that I stood most in need of a hundred dollars.

Now I was nearing the house. The hour was late, but a light was burning in the sitting-room. No one came out, though my horse's hoofs fell hard enough upon the stones to tell them of my coming; and when I got down at the gate I found a horse tied to the fence. Some person, eager to bear evil tidings, had forestalled me. I led my horse to the stable, went to the house, and had just stepped into the pa.s.sage when Parker, the deputy sheriff, came out of the sitting-room. "I thought you'd go on back to the jail to stay a while, so I came on over to tell them. No trouble, you know--only a short distance out of my way."

All within was silent. I stepped inside. The old man was standing with his back to the fire-place; the old woman sat with her book in her lap and Guinea stood at the window, looking out into the darkness. I sat down in silence, for I knew not what to say, and in silence for a time we remained. The old woman sobbed, clutching more tightly her book, and the old man looked at her sharply and then almost flung himself out of the room. And a few moments later I heard him shouting: "Hike, there, Sam! Hike, there, Bob! There's plenty of light; you've got three lanterns. Hike, there! To a finish, to a finis.h.!.+"

"Mrs. Jucklin, it is no time for despair," I said, and Guinea turned from the window. "We have already secured a new trial, and the next time it will surely go in our favor. That is the history of nearly all such cases. Be strong just a little while longer. You have been our prop, and now you must not let us fall."

She arose and with an old-time courtesy bowed to me, and Guinea came forward and held out her hand, and she must have seen a sudden light leap into my eyes, for she said: "I am Alf's sister and yours, too."

This came as a repulse to my heart's eager yearning; no sister's confidences could answer the call that my nature was shouting to her.

But I gulped down a rising soreness of the heart and I said: "I thank you."

The old man, with heavy tread, strode into the room. "It was to a finish," he whispered. His hands were covered with blood. "It was to a finish, and they are both dead."

There was a sharp rap at the door. Guinea opened it and in came the old General. "Mr. Jucklin, can I speak to you in private?" he asked, bowing to the women.

"No. What you've got to say, out with it here."

"I would rather say it in private. Why, what's the matter with your hands?"

"It was to a finish, sir, and let what you say be to a finish, even if it is three times as b.l.o.o.d.y."

"Oh, I have come out of no hard feelings, sir. Ladies, would you and our friend, Mr. Hawes, mind retiring?"

"They are goin' to stay here, sir," the old man replied, rolling up his sleeves.

"All right, just as you will, sir. Mr. Jucklin, years ago we entered into an arrangement----"

"And I have cursed myself ever since!" the old man exclaimed.

"Just wait until I get through, if you please. We entered into an arrangement, prompted by a boy's fancy and warmed by a father's over indulgence. I know that this is a sore time to come to you, and I don't want to appear unkind, for my aim is tender, though my determination is just. Young hearts may whisper to each other, and that whispering may be music, sir; but in this life there are duties too stern to be melted and turned aside by a melody. And, sir, one of the most sacred duties that can fall to the trust of a man is to see that the family name, which is to survive after he has folded his hands in eternal stillness--pardon my devious methods, for I a.s.sure you that my windings proceed from a kindness of heart--I say that my duty now is to those who may bear my name in the future. I trust that I am now sufficiently started to speak plainly. I don't doubt the real worth and sterling integrity of your stock, Mr. Jucklin, but an agreement that we once made must be set aside."

He stood with his broad hat in his hand and out of it he grabbled a handkerchief and wiped his face. Old Lim gazed steadily at him. "My words sound cold and formal," the General continued, "and I wish that they might be warmer and more at ease, but in vain have I tempered with them. The short of it all is, and I have striven not to say it bluntly--is that the engagement which has held us in prospective relations.h.i.+p is hereby broken; but by this I do not mean that your son is guilty of murder, for in his heart he may see himself justified, but a decision of court has--and I wish I could find a softer means of saying it--court has p.r.o.nounced him guilty, and that places the marriage out of the question. Bear with me just a moment more, for I a.s.sure you that I am suffering keenly with you, that my heart is in sorrowful unison with your own. Family pride may be regarded a hobby in this day when refinement and respectability are sneered at, but it is a virtuous hobby, and I have held it so long that I cannot put it down. And now, in so far as there is any question of a financial obligation, we will turn our backs upon it and forget that it ever existed."

He put his handkerchief into his hat, changed his hat to his other hand and stood looking at Jucklin; and I had expected to see the old man leap off the floor in a rage, but I cannot recall ever having seen a cooler show of indifference. "I put gaffs on 'em early this mornin' an' kept 'em waitin' for the finish, and when it come it come soon," he said.

"Mr. Jucklin, I had hoped to make myself sufficiently clear. I have come, sir, to break the engagement that was foolishly arranged by us to bind your daughter and my son."

"Bob died first, but Sam could jest stagger, and he fluttered against me and covered my hands with his blood; and I must apologize for not was.h.i.+n' 'em, but it is not too late to make some sort of amends. I will wipe 'em on your jaws, sir!"

He sprang forward, but I caught him. "You must be perfectly cool and perfectly sensible, Mr. Jucklin," I said, as quickly as I could, holding him. "Remember that he is in your house."

And this quieted him. Even the most p.r.o.nounced backwoodsman in the South is sometimes graced with a sudden and almost marvelous courtesy, the unconscious revival of a long lost dignity; and this came upon the old man, and, bowing low, he said:

"I humbly beg your pardon, sir."

"And I should be a brute not to grant it," the General replied, bowing in turn. "But I hope that reason rather than the fact of my being under your roof will govern your conduct."

During this time, and, indeed, from the moment when the General had entered the room, Guinea stood beside the rocking-chair in which her mother was seated; no change had come over her countenance, but with one hand resting on the back of the chair she had remained motionless, with the exception that she placed her hand on her mother's head at the moment when I caught the old man in my arms. I saw this, though her motion was swift, for I was looking at her rather than at her father.

And now the General turned to the girl.

"My dear," he said. She frowned slightly, but her lips parted with a cold smile that came out of her heart.

"My dear child, it is hard for me to say this to you, for I feel that you can but regard me a feelingless monster that would rend an innocent and loving heart, and G.o.d knows that I now beg your forgiveness, but in this life cruel things must be done, done that those who come after us may feel no sting of reproach cast by an exacting society. I am an old man, my dear, and shall soon be taken to the burial ground where my fathers sleep in honor. They left me a proud name and I must not soil it. The oldest stone there is above a breast that braved old Cromwell's pikemen--the n.o.ble heart of a cavalier beat in that bosom--and can you ask----"

"I have asked nothing, General."

"You are a n.o.ble young woman."

"But your son will come to me and kneel at my feet."

A flush flew over the General's face. "No, it is with his full consent that I have come. Indeed, I would have put off my coming until a more befitting day, but he knew his duty and bade me do mine."

"He will kneel at my feet," she said; and he had not replied when we heard footsteps in the pa.s.sage--wild footsteps. There was a moment of sharp clicking at the door latch, as if a nervous hand had touched it, and then Millie broke into the room. Her face was white, her hair hung about her shoulders.

"You have kept me away!" she cried, stamping her feet and frowning at her father. "Yes, you have kept me away, but I have come and I hate you."

The old General was stupefied. "You may tell your cold-blooded son what to do," she went on, "but my heart is my own. He asked me to marry him and I will--I will break into the penitentiary and marry him. And you would have had me marry Dan Stuart. Just before he was killed he told me he would kill Alf if I said I loved him. I will go to the jail and marry him there."

She ran to Guinea, and they put their arms about each other and wept; and the old woman pressed her book to her bosom and sobbed over it.