Читать книгу Reels and Spindles: A Story of Mill Life - Raymond Evelyn - Страница 6

"It's from the library!" reported Amy, who had first reached and opened the window. "I can't make out anything except – yes, it is! That's Fayette's voice. Hear that croak?"

"The foolish boy? Here yet?"

"So it seems. I'll go and find out."

"Wait. That's Cleena talking now, and another voice, a man's. What can it all mean?"

Amy ran down the stairs and out of the house so swiftly that she did not observe her father following with almost equal haste. Behind him sped Mrs. Kaye, far more anxious concerning her husband than the noise outside.

"Slowly, Cuthbert. Please do take care. Thee must not hurry so, and I hear Cleena. She'll look out for everything. For my sake, don't run."

Hallam upon his crutches came last of all, and for a moment the entire family stood in silent wonder at the scene before them.

Two men were wrestling like angry schoolboys; and the light from a lantern in Cleena's hand fell over them and showed the distorted face of "Bony" in one of his wildest rages. His contestant was gray haired and stout, and was evidently getting the worst of the struggle. The library door was open, and it seemed as if the half-wit were trying to force the other backward into the building.

One glance revealed something of the situation to Mrs. Kaye, and, as the wrestlers paused for breath, she moved forward and laid her hand upon the old man's arm.

"Archibald, what does this mean?"

The low voice acted like magic. Fayette slunk away, ashamed, and the other paused to recover himself. But his anger soon returned and was now directed against the astonished woman herself.

"Mean! mean? That's for you to say. Since when has a Kaye stooped to the pettiness of locking up an unwelcome visitor like a rat in a trap? A pretty greeting and meeting, Cuthbert, after all these years!" he cried, turning next toward the artist, with indignant contempt.

But the object of his wrath scarcely heard what he said. His own eyes were fixed upon the ruined panel of his beautiful library door, and he caught up the lantern and peered anxiously to learn the extent of the disaster.

The wife again answered, as if speaking for both: —

"Archibald, no. Whatever indignity thee has suffered, none of thy kin know anything about it or could be parties to it. Thy own heart must tell thee that; and now explain what it all means."

At the old familiar speech, the man's expression altered, and when he replied it was in a far gentler tone.

"I came to see Cuthbert; for the thousandth time, isn't it? Failing him again, though I didn't mean to fail, I had to talk with – thee," his voice tripping slightly over the pronoun, "and that virago brought me here to wait. Then she locked me up and set this idiot to watch. There are no windows to get out of from above, nothing but that skylight, so I finally forced the door at the foot of the stairs, and then again this. Here was that ruffian, armed with a cudgel, and – the rest thee knows."

"I am very sorry, cousin. I can but apologize for what I would never have permitted had I known," and the mistress's gaze rested upon Cleena most reproachfully.

Yet that bold-spirited creature was in no wise disturbed, and replied, with great enjoyment: —

"Sure, mistress, I did but do what I'd do again, come same chance. What for no? If it wasn't for him, yon, there'd be peace an' plenty at Fairacres the now. Faith, I harmed him none."

"Cleena!"

"Askin' pardon if I overstepped me aut'ority, mistress. Come, Gineral Bonyparty, I'm surmisin' you an' me better be fixin' things up whiles the family goes home to their beds."

Just then Mr. Kaye's silent examination of the injury done his beloved studio came to an end. He set down the lighted lantern with the ultra caution of one who dreads fire above all accidents, and turned toward his wife. However, he took but few steps forward before he paused, staggered, and would have fallen had not the ill-treated visitor sprung to his aid, – to be himself pushed aside, while Cleena caught up her master and strode off toward the house, as if she were but carrying an overgrown child in her strong arms. Indeed, the artist's weight was painfully light, nor was this the first time that Cleena's strength had thus served his need; though this fact not even Hallam nor Amy knew.

The wife hurried after her fainting husband, and Amy started also; then reflected that it was she who had brought Fayette to the house, and was, in a measure, responsible for what had since happened there.

But the lad gave her time for neither reproof nor question, as he eagerly exclaimed: —

"'Twa'n't none o' my doin's. She made me. She told me to set here an' keep Mr. Wingate in, an' if he broke out I wasn't to let him. I don't know what for. I didn't ask questions. 'Twa'n't none o' my business, anyway. So I was just trying to jab him back. She fed me first rate. Say, is that your brother?"

"Yes. Oh, Hal! what shall we do?"

"You run to the house and see if mother wants anybody to go for the doctor, while I try to help this boy stop up the doorway. It's going to rain, and it would break father's heart if anything here were harmed."

A curious smile crossed the stranger's face, but he advanced to lend his aid to the lad, Fayette, and succeeded in getting the parts of the door so far into place that they would prevent any damage by rain, except in case of severe storm. The broken lock was, of course, useless, and as the mill lad saw the cripple fingering it, he remarked: —

"You needn't be scared. I'll stay an' watch. I won't march to-night. Oh, I can do it all right. I often stay with the watchmen round the mill, an' I've got a good muscle, if anybody wants to tackle it," with which he glared invitingly toward the late prisoner.

A protesting groan was the only reply; and the lad received this with a snort of disdain.

"Druther let old scores rest, had ye? All right. Suits me well enough now, but I ain't forgot the lickin's you've given me, an' I ain't goin' to forget, neither."

Fayette's look was again so vindictive that Hallam interposed, fearing another battle between these uninvited guests.

"Well, I wish you would watch here for a while. As soon as Cleena can be spared, she shall bring you a blanket. And anyway, if you'll keep everything safe, I'll try to find something to pay you for your trouble."

"Hmm, I'd take your donkey an' give back considerable to boot."

"My donkey? Balaam? Well, I guess not."

"I could do it. I could, first rate. I've got money. It's in the savings bank. 'Supe' put it in for me."

"I couldn't think of it, not for a second. Mr. Wingate – is it?"

"Archibald Wingate, and your kinsman, young sir."

"So I heard my mother say. She would wish you to come to the house with me, and we'll try to make you comfortable. I must go – I am wild to know what is wrong with my father."

"We will, at once," answered the other, coldly. "Your father was always weak – was never very rugged, and he hasn't lived in a way to make himself more robust. A man's place is in the open; not penned like a woman behind closed doors and windows."

"Beg pardon, but you are speaking of my father."

"Exactly, and of my cousin. Oh, I've known him since we sat together under our grandmother's table, munching gingerbread cakes. Ah, she was a famous cook, else the flavor of a bit of dough wouldn't last that long."

"I've heard of my great-grandmother's talent for cookery. Father and mother often speak of it, and some of her old recipes are in use in our kitchen to-day."

Mr. Wingate had kept an even pace with Hallam's eager swings upon his crutches, and they were speedily at the old house door, with a kindly feeling toward one another springing into life within the heart of each; though but a little while before Hallam had exclaimed to Amy, in all sincerity, "I hate him unseen."

With the ready trustfulness of youth, Hallam began to think his mother's and the lawyer's words had not meant literally what they expressed.

On Mr. Wingate's side, the sight of Hallam's physical infirmity had roused regret at the action he must take. Up till this meeting he had lived with but one object in view – the possession of Fairacres; nor did he now waver in his determination. There had simply entered into the matter a sentiment of compassion which was a surprise to himself, and which he banished as completely as he could.

Amy met them at the door with the gratifying report: —

"Father is about all right again. It was a sudden faint. Cleena says that he has had them before, but that mother had not wished us told. There is no need of a doctor, and Cleena is to get the west chamber ready for Mr. Wingate to sleep in. I'm to freshen the fire and – here is mother herself."

The house mistress came toward them, vial and glass in hand, on her way back to the sick-room. The hall was dimly lighted, and as she turned at the stair's foot and passed upward, with that soft gliding motion peculiar to herself, she seemed to the entering guest like a sad-faced ghost of a girl he had known. Halfway up she paused upon the landing and smiled down upon them; and the serenity of that smile made the hard facts of the case – illness, poverty, and home-breaking – seem even more unreal than anything else could have done.

Amy looked into Mr. Wingate's eyes, which were fixed upon their mother. "Isn't she like the Madonna? Father has so often painted her as such."

"Yes – hmm. He ought to. A Madonna of Way and Means. Say, little girl, you are bright enough, but you act a good deal younger than your years. How happens it you've never learned to look after your father yourself, and so spare your mother? Can you do anything useful?"

"That depends. I can arrange father's palette, and crack his eggs just right, and buy things – when there's money," she finished naïvely.

"It all seems 'father.' What about your mother? What can you do, or have you done, to help her, eh?"

Amy flushed. She thought this sort of cross-questioning very rude and uncalled for. As soon as she had heard this man's name she had realized that it must be he of whom Hallam had spoken, and whom she, also, had decided she "hated unseen." But, in truth, hatred was a feeling of which the carefully sheltered girl knew absolutely nothing, though it came very near entering her heart at that instant when the shrewd, penetrating gaze of her kinsman forced her to answer his question.

"Why – nothing, I'm afraid. Only to love her."

"Hmm. Well, you'll have to add a bit of practical aid to the loving, I guess, if you want to keep her with you. She looks as if the wind might blow her away if she got caught out in it. Now, good night. You and your brother can go. I'll sit here till that saucy Irishwoman gets my room ready. Take care! If you don't mind where you're going, you'll drop sperm on the rug, tipping that candlestick so!"

Hallam had been standing, leaning against the newel post, with his own too ready temper flaming within him. But there was one tenet in the Kaye household which had been held to rigidly by all its members: the guest within the house was sacred from any discourteous word or deed. Else the boy felt he should have given his new-found relative what Cleena called "a good pie-shaped piece of his mind."

He had to wait a moment before he could say "good night" in a decent tone of voice, then swung up the staircase in the direction of his mother's room.

Amy was too much astonished to say even thus much. She righted the candlestick, amazed at the interest in rugs which Mr. Wingate displayed, and followed her brother very slowly, like one entering a dark passage wherein she might go astray.

She stopped where Hallam had, before their mother's door, which was so rarely closed against them. Even now, as she heard her children whispering behind the panel, Mrs. Kaye came out and gave them each their accustomed caress; then bade them get straight to bed, for she would be having a long talk with them in the morning, and she wanted them to be "as bright as daisies," to understand it.

"Mother, that man! He – he's so dreadful! He scolded me about the candlestick, and – and you – and he made me feel like a great baby."

"I wish he might have waited; but, no matter. Good night."

It was a very confused and troubled Amy who crept into bed a little while afterward, and she meant to lie awake and think everything out straight, but she was too sound and healthy to give up slumber for any such purpose, and in a few minutes she was asleep.