Part 47 (1/2)
Slowly, with bent head, he walked away.
Trembling, Ca.s.sandra laid her baby in the cradle Hoke Belew had made her, and, kneeling beside the rude little bed, she bowed her head over it and wept scalding, bitter tears. She felt herself shamed before the whole mountain side. Oh, why--why need David have left her so long--so long! The first reproach against him entered her heart, and at the same time she reasoned with herself.
He could not help it--surely he could not. He was good and true, and they should all know it if she had to lie for it. When she had sobbed herself into a measure of calmness, she heard a step cross the cabin floor. Quickly drying her tears, she rose and stood in the doorway of the canvas room, with dilated eyes and indrawn breath, peering into' the dusk, barring the way. It was only her mother.
”Why, mothah!” she cried, relieved and overjoyed.
”Have you seen Frale?”
”Yes, mothah. He was here. Sit down and get your breath. You have climbed too fast.”
Her mother dropped into a chair and placed a small bundle on the table at her side.
”What-all is this Frale say you have told him? Have David writ fer you like Frale say? What-all have Frale been up to now? He come down creepin' like he a half-dade man--that soft an' quiet.”
”I'm going to David, mother. You know he sent me money to use any way I choose, and I'm going.” She caught her breath and faltered.
The mother rose and took her in her arms, and, drawing her head down to her wrinkled cheek, patted her softly.
”Thar, honey, thar. I reckon your ol' maw knows a heap more'n you think.
You keep mighty still, but you can't fool her.”
Ca.s.sandra drew herself together. ”Why didn't Martha come up this evening?”
”She war makin' ready, in her triflin' slow way, an' then Frale come down an' said that word, an' I knew right quick 'at ther war somethin'
behind--his way war that quare--so I told Marthy to set him out a good suppah, an' I'd stop up here myself this night. She war right glad to do hit. Fool, she be! I could see how she went plumb silly ovah Frale all to onc't.”
”Mothah, you know right well what they're saying about David and me. Is it true, that word Frale said, that everyone says he nevah will come back?” The mother was silent. ”That's all right, mothah. We'll pack up to-night, and I'll go down to Farington to-morrow. Mrs. Towahs will help me to start right.”
She lighted candles and began to lay out her baby's wardrobe. ”I haven't anything to put these in, but I can carry everything I need down there in baskets, and she will help me. They've always been that good to me--all my life.”
”Ca.s.s, Ca.s.s, don't go,” wailed her mother. ”I'm afraid somethin'll happen you if you go that far away. If you could leave baby with me, Ca.s.s! Give hit up. Be ye 'feared o' Frale, honey?”
”No, mother, the man doesn't live that I'm afraid of.” She paused, holding the candle in her hand, lighting her face that shone whitely out of the darkness. Her eyes glowed, and she held her head high. Then she turned again to her work, gathering her few small treasures and placing them on one of the highest shelves of the chimney cupboard. As she worked, she tried to say comforting things to her mother.
”I'll write to you every day, like David does me, mother. See? I've kept all his letters. They're in this box. I don't want to burn them because I love them; and I don't want any one else to read them; and I don't want to carry them with me because I'll have him there. Will you lock them in your box, mother, and if anything happens to me, will you sure--sure burn them?” She laid them on the table at her mother's elbow.
”You promise, mothah?”
”Yas, Ca.s.s, yas.”
”What's in that bundle, mothah?”
With trembling fingers the widow opened her parcel and displayed the silver teapot, from which the spout had been melted to be moulded into silver bullets.
”Thar,” she said, holding it out by the handle, ”hit's yourn. Farwell, he done that one day whilst I war gone, an' the last bullet war the one Frale used when he nigh killed your man. No, I reckon you nevah did see hit before, fer I've kept hit hid good. I knowed ther were somethin' to come outen hit some day. Hit do show your fathah come from some fine high fambly somewhar. I done showed hit to Doctah David, fer I 'lowed he mount know was. .h.i.t wuth anything, but he seemed to set more by them two leetle books. He has them books yet, I reckon.”
”Yes, he has them.”
”When Frale told me you war a-goin' to David, I guessed 'at thar war somethin' 'at I'd ought to know, an' I clum up here right quick, fer if he war a-lyin', I meant to find out the reason why.” She looked keenly in her daughter's face, which remained pa.s.sive under the scrutiny.