Gabriel Tolliver Part 6

"I don't know how it was, but every command given by Major Perdue was obeyed promptly. The crowd dispersed at once, with the exception of two or three, who were detailed to watch the few valuables that had been saved, and a few men who lingered to see if they could be of any service.

"Pulaski Tomlin had been kinder to his sister than to himself. Only the hem of her dress was scorched. It may be absurd to say so, but that was the first thing I noticed; and, in fact, that was all the injury she had suffered. Her brother had found her unconscious on a bed, and he simply rolled her in the quilts and blankets, and brought her downstairs, and out through the smoke and flame to the point where he fell. f.a.n.n.y has not so much as a scar to show. But you can look at her brother's face and see what he suffered. When they lifted him into your father's buggy, his outer garments literally crumbled beneath the touch, and one whole side of his face was raw and bleeding.

"But he never thought of himself, though the agony he endured must have been awful. His first word was about his sister: 'Is f.a.n.n.y hurt?' And when he was told that she was unharmed, he closed his eyes, saying, 'Don't worry about me.' We brought him here--it was f.a.n.n.y's wish--and by the time he had been placed in bed, the muscles of his mouth were drawn as you see them now. There was nothing to do but to apply cold water, and this was done for the most part by Major Perdue, though both f.a.n.n.y and I were anxious to relieve him. I never saw a man so devoted in his attentions. He was absolutely tireless; and I was so struck with his tender solicitude that I felt obliged to make to him what was at once a confession and an apology. 'I once thought, Major Perdue, that you were a hard and cruel man,' said I, 'but I'll never think so again.'

"'But why did you think so in the first place?' he asked.

"'Well, I had heard of several of your shooting sc.r.a.pes,' I replied.

"He regarded me with a smile. 'There are two sides to everything, especially a row,' he said. 'I made up my mind when a boy that turn-about is fair play. When I insult a man, I'm prepared to take the consequences; yet I never insulted a man in my life. The man that insults me must pay for it. Women may wipe their feet on me, and children may spit on me; but no man shall insult me, not by so much as the lift of an eyelash, or the twitch of an upper-lip. Pulaski here has done me many a favour, some that he tried to hide, and I'd never get through paying him if I were to nurse him night and day for the rest of my natural life. In some things, Ma'am, you'll find me almost as good as a dog.'

"I must have given him a curious stare," continued Mrs. Lumsden, "for he laughed softly, and remarked, 'If you'll think it over, Ma'am, you'll find that a dog has some mighty fine qualities.' And it is true."

"But what about Margaret Gaither?" inquired Nan, who was determined that the love-story should not be lost in a wilderness of trifles--as she judged them to be.

"Poor Margaret!" murmured Gabriel's grandmother. "I declare! I had almost forgotten her. Well, bright and early the next morning, Margaret came and asked to see Pulaski Tomlin. I left her in the parlour, and carried her request to the sick-room.

"'Brother,' said f.a.n.n.y, 'Margaret is here, and wants to see you. Shall she come in?'

"I saw Pulaski clench his hands; his bosom heaved and his lips quivered.

'Not for the world!' he exclaimed; 'oh, not for the world!'

"'I can't tell her that,' said I. 'Nor I,' sobbed f.a.n.n.y, covering her face with her hands. 'Oh, it will kill her!'

"Major Perdue turned to me, his eyes wet. 'Do you know why he doesn't want her to see him?' I could only give an affirmative nod. 'Do you know, f.a.n.n.y?' She could only say, 'Yes, yes!' between her sobs. 'It is for her sake alone; we all see that,' declared Major Perdue. 'Now, then,' he went on, touching me on the arm, 'I want you to see how hard a hard man can be. Show me where the poor child is.'

"I led him to the parlour door. He stood aside for me to enter first, but I shook my head and leaned against the door for support. 'This is Miss Gaither?' he said, as he entered alone. 'My name is Perdue--Tomlin Perdue. We are very sorry, but no one is permitted to see Pulaski, except those who are nursing him.' 'That is what I am here for,' she said, 'and no one has a better right. I am to be his wife; we are to be married next month.' 'It is not a matter of right, Miss Gaither. Are you prepared to sustain a very severe shock?' 'Why, what--what is the trouble?' 'Can you not conceive a reason why you should not see him now--at this time, and for many days to come?' 'I cannot,' she replied haughtily. 'That, Miss Gaither, is precisely the reason why you are not to see him now,' said Major Perdue. His tone was at once humble and tender. 'I don't understand you at all,' she exclaimed almost violently.

'I tell you I will see him; I'll beat upon the wall; I'll lie across the door, and compel you to open it. Oh, why am I treated so and by his friends!' She flung herself upon a sofa, weeping wildly; and there I found her, when, a moment later, I entered the room in response to a gesture from Major Perdue.

"Whether she glanced up and saw me, or whether she divined my presence, I could never guess," Gabriel's grandmother went on, "but without raising her face, she began to speak to me. 'This is your house, Miss Lucy,' she said--she always called me Miss Lucy--'and why can't I, his future wife, go in and speak to Pulaski; or, at the very least, hold his hand, and help you and f.a.n.n.y minister to his wants?' I made her no answer, for I could not trust myself to speak; I simply sat on the edge of the sofa by her, and stroked her hair, trying in this mute way to demonstrate my sympathy. She seemed to take some comfort from this, and finally put her request in a different shape. Would I permit her to sit in a chair near the door of the room in which Pulaski lay, until such time as she could see him? 'I will give you no trouble whatever,' she said. 'I am determined to see him,' she declared; 'he is mine, and I am his.' I gave a cordial a.s.sent to this proposition, carried a comfortable chair and placed it near the door, and there she stationed herself.

"I went into the room where the others were, and was surprised to see f.a.n.n.y Tomlin looking so cheerful. Even Major Perdue appeared to be relieved. f.a.n.n.y asked me a question with her eyes, and I answered it aloud. 'She is sitting by the door, and says she will remain there until she can see Pulaski.' He beat his hand against the headboard of the bed, his mental agony was so great, and kept murmuring to himself. Major Perdue turned his back on his friend's writhings, and went to the window. Presently he returned to the bedside, his watch in his hand.

'Pulaski,' he said, 'if she's there fifteen minutes from now, I shall invite her in.' Pulaski Tomlin made no reply, and we continued our ministrations in perfect silence.

"A few minutes later, I had occasion to go into my own room for a strip of linen, and to my utter amazement, the chair I had placed for Margaret Gaither was empty. Had she gone for a drink of water, or for a book? I went from room to room, calling her name, but she had gone; and I have never laid eyes on her from that day to this. She went away to Malvern on a visit, and while there eloped with a Louisiana man named Bridalbin, whose reputation was none too savoury, and we never heard of her again.

Even her Aunt Polly lost all trace of her."

"What did Mr. Tomlin say when you told him she was gone?" Nan inquired.

"We never told him. I think he understood that she was gone almost as soon as she went, for his spiritual faculties are very keen. I remember on one occasion, and that not so very long ago, when he refused to retire at night, because he had a feeling that he would be called for; and his intuitions were correct. He was summoned to the bedside of one of his friends in the country, and, as he went along, he carried your father with him. Margaret Gaither, such as she was, was the sum and the substance of his first and last romance. He suffered, but his suffering has made him strong.

"Yes," Mrs. Lumsden went on, "it has made him strong and great in the highest sense. Do you know why he is called Neighbour Tomlin? It is because he loves his neighbours as he loves himself. There is no sacrifice that he will not make for them. The poorest and meanest person in the world, black or white, can knock at Neighbour Tomlin's door any hour of the day or night, and obtain food, money or advice, as the case may be. If his wife or his children are ill, Neighbour Tomlin will get out of bed and go in the cold and rain, and give them the necessary attention. To me, there never was a more beautiful countenance in the world than Neighbour Tomlin's poor scarred face. But for that misfortune we should probably never have known what manner of man he is. The Providence that urged Margaret Gaither to fly from this house was arranging for the succour of many hundreds of unfortunates, and Pulaski Tomlin was its instrument."

"If I had been Margaret Gaither," said Nan, clenching her hands together, "I never would have left that door. Never! They couldn't have dragged me away. I've never been in love, I hope, but I have feelings that tell me what it is, and I never would have gone away."

"Well, we must not judge others," said Gabriel's grandmother gently.

"Poor Margaret acted according to her nature. She was vain, and lacked stability, but I really believe that Providence had a hand in the whole matter."

"I know I'm pretty," remarked Nan, solemnly, "but I'm not vain."

"Why, Nan!" exclaimed Mrs. Lumsden, laughing; "what put in your head the idea that you are pretty?"

"I don't mean my own self," explained Nan, "but the other self that I see in the gla.s.s. She and I are very good friends, but sometimes we quarrel. She isn't the one that would have stayed at the door, but my own, own self."

Mrs. Lumsden looked at the girl closely to see if she was joking, but Nan was very serious indeed. "I'm sure I don't understand you," said Gabriel's grandmother.

"Gabriel does," replied Nan complacently. Gabriel understood well enough, but he never could have explained it satisfactorily to any one who was unfamiliar with Nan's way of putting things.

"Well, you are certainly a pretty girl, Nan," Gabriel's grandmother admitted, "and when you and Francis Bethune are married, you will make a handsome pair."

"When Francis Bethune and I are married!" exclaimed Nan, giving a swift side-glance at Gabriel, who pretended to be reading. "Why, what put such an idea in your head, Grandmother Lumsden?"

"Why, it is on the cards, my dear. It is what, in my young days, they used to call the proper caper."

"Well, when Frank and I are to be married, I'll send you a card of invitation so large that you will be unable to get it in the front door." She rose from the footstool, saying, "I must go home; good-bye, everybody; and send me word when you have chocolate cake."

This was so much like the Nan who had been his comrade for so long that Gabriel felt a little thrill of exultation. A little later he asked his grandmother what she meant by saying that it was on the cards for Nan to marry Bethune.

"Why, I have an idea that the matter has already been arranged," she answered with a knowing smile. "It would be so natural and appropriate.

You are too young to appreciate the wisdom of such arrangements, Gabriel, but you will understand it when you are older. Nan is not related in any way to the Cloptons, though a great many people think so.

Her grandmother was captured by the Creeks when only a year or two old.

She was the only survivor of a party of seven which had been ambushed by the Indians. She was too young to give any information about herself.

She could say a few words, and she knew that her name was Rosalind, but that was all. She was ransomed by General McGillivray, and sent to Shady Dale. Under the circ.u.mstances, there was nothing for Raleigh Clopton to do but adopt her. Thus she became Rosalind Clopton. She married Benier Odom when, as well as could be judged, she was more than forty years old. Randolph Dorrington married her daughter, who died when Nan was born. Marriage, Gabriel, is not what young people think it is; and I do hope that when you take a wife, it will be some one you have known all your life."

"I hope so, too," Gabriel responded with great heartiness.

CHAPTER SIX

_The Pa.s.sing of Margaret_

The day after the return of Mr. Sanders and Francis Bethune from the war, Gabriel's grandmother had an early caller in the person of Miss f.a.n.n.y Tomlin. For a maiden lady, Miss f.a.n.n.y was very plump and good-looking. Her hair was grey, and she still wore it in short curls, just as she had worn it when a girl. The style became her well. The short curls gave her an air of jauntiness, which was in perfect keeping with her disposition, and they made a very pretty frame for her rosy, smiling face. Socially, she was the most popular person in the town, with both young and old. A children's party was a dull affair in Shady Dale without Miss f.a.n.n.y to give it shape and form, to suggest games, and to make it certain that the timid ones should have their fair share of the enjoyment. Indeed, the community would have been a very dull one but for Miss f.a.n.n.y; in return for which the young people conferred the distinction of kins.h.i.+p on her by calling her Aunt f.a.n.n.y. She had remained single because her youngest brother, Pulaski, was unmarried, and needed some one to take care of him, so she said. But she had another brother, Silas Tomlin, who was twice a widower, and who seemed to need some one to take care of him, for he presented a very mean and miserable appearance.

It chanced that when Miss f.a.n.n.y called, Gabriel was studying his lessons, using the dining-room table as a desk, and he was able to hear the conversation that ensued. Miss f.a.n.n.y stood on no ceremony in entering. The front door was open and she entered without knocking, saying, "If there's n.o.body at home I'll carry the house away. Where are you, Lucy?"

"In my room, f.a.n.n.y; come right in."

"How are you, and how is the high and mighty Gabriel?" Having received satisfactory answers to her friendly inquiries, Miss f.a.n.n.y plunged at once into the business that had brought her out so early. "What do you think, Lucy? Margaret Gaither and her daughter have returned. They are at the Gaither Place, and Miss Polly has just told me that there isn't a mouthful to eat in the house--and there is Margaret at the point of death! Why, it is dreadful. Something must be done at once, that's certain. I wouldn't have bothered you, but you know what the circ.u.mstances are. I don't know what Margaret's feelings are with respect to me; you know we never were bosom friends. Yet I never really disliked her, and now, after all that has happened, I couldn't bear to think that she was suffering for anything. Likely enough she would be embarra.s.sed if I called and offered a.s.sistance. What is to be done?"

"Wouldn't it be best for some one to call--some one who was her friend?" The cool, level voice of Gabriel's grandmother seemed to clear the atmosphere. "Whatever is to be done should be done sympathetically.

If I could see Polly, there would be no difficulty."

"Well, I saw Miss Polly," said Miss f.a.n.n.y, "and she told me the whole situation, and I was on the point of saying that I'd run back home and send something over, when an upper window was opened, and Margaret Gaither's daughter stood there gazing at me--and she's a beauty, Lucy; there's a chance for Gabriel there. Well, you know how deaf Miss Polly is; if I had said what I wanted to say, that child would have heard every word, and there was something in her face that held me dumb. Miss Polly talked and I nodded my head, and that was all. The old soul must have thought the cat had my tongue." Miss f.a.n.n.y laughed uneasily as she made the last remark.

"If Margaret is ill, she should have attention. I will go there this morning." This was Mrs. Lumsden's decision.