Part 47 (2/2)
”Has Frale been a-pesterin' you?”
”He did--some--at first; but I sent him away.”
”I reckoned so. Now heark. You tell me straight, did David send fer ye, er didn't he?”
In silence Ca.s.sandra turned to her work, until it seemed as if the room were filled with the suspense of the unanswered question. Then she tried evasion.
”Why do you ask in that way, mothah?”
”Because if he sont fer ye, I'll help ye all I can; but if he didn't, I'll hinder ye, and ye'll bide right whar ye be.”
”You won't do that, mothah.”
”I sure will. If David haven't sont fer ye, an' ye go, ye'll have to walk ovah me to get thar, hear?”
The mother's voice was raised to a higher pitch than was her wont, and the little silver pot shook in her hand. Ca.s.sandra took it and regarded it without interest, absorbed in other thoughts. Then, throwing off her abstraction, she began questioning her mother about it, and why she had brought it to her now. The widow told all she knew, as she had told David, and pointed out the half obliterated coat of arms on the side.
”I've heered your paw say 'at ther war more pieces'n this, oncet, but this'n come straight to him from his grandpaw, an' now hit's yourn. If he have sont fer ye, take hit with ye. Hit may be wuth more'n you think fer now. I been told they do think a heap o' fambly ovah thar, jest like we do here in the mounting. Leastways, hit's all we do have--some of us.
My fambly war all good stock, capable and peart; an' now heark to me.
Wharevah you go, just you hold your hade up. The' hain't nothin' more despisable than a body 'at goes meachin' around like some old sheep-stealin' houn' dog. Now if he sure 'nough have sont fer ye, go, an' I'll help ye, but if he haven't, bide whar ye be.”
Ca.s.sandra drew in her breath sharply, no longer able to evade the question, with her mother's keen eyes searching her face. All her reasons for going flashed through her mind in a moment's s.p.a.ce of time.
The book she had been reading--what were English people really like? And David--her David--her boy's father--what shameful things were they saying of him all over the mountain that Frale should dare come to her as he had done? She could not stay now; she would not. Her cheeks flamed, and she walked silently into the canvas room and stood by her baby's cradle. Her mother began wrapping up the silver pot.
”I guess I'll take this back an' lock hit up again. You sure hain't to go if ye can't give me that word.”
Ca.s.sandra went quickly and took it from her mother's hand. ”No, mother, give it to me. I told Frale David had sent for me, and I'm going.”
”And he have sont fer ye?”
”Yes, mothah.” Her reply was low as she turned again to her work.
”Waal, now, why couldn't you have give me that word first off? Hit's his right to have ye, an' I'll he'p ye. You'd ought to go to him if he can't come to you.”
Instantly up and alert, putting bravely aside her own feelings at the thought of parting, the mother began helping her daughter; but long after they were finished and settled for the night, she lay wakeful and dreading the coming day.
Ca.s.sandra slept less, and lay quietly thinking, sorrowful that she must leave her home, and not a little anxious over what might be her future and what might be her fate in that strange land.
When at last she slept, she dreamed of the people she had met in _Vanity Fair_, with David strangely mixed up among them, and Frale ever alert and watchful, moving wherever she moved, silently lingering near and never taking his eyes from her face.
In the morning, mother and daughter were up betimes, but no word was spoken between them to betoken hesitation or fear. Ca.s.sandra walked in a sort of dumb wonder at herself, and smouldering deep beneath the surface was a fierce resentment against those who, having known her from childhood, and receiving many favors and kindnesses from her, should now presume to so speak against her husband as to make Frale dare to approach her as he had. Oh, the burning shame of those kisses! The shame of the thought against David that pervaded her beloved mountains! For the sake of his good name, she would put away her pride and go to him.
CHAPTER XXIX
IN WHICH Ca.s.sANDRA VISITS DAVID THRYNG'S ANCESTORS
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