Chapter 8

"Ichabod," said Miss Jane, scratching her head with the long teeth of her tucking-comb, "you're too old to be made a tool of. Let old Bradley Gaither do his own buyin' and sellin'. That old scamp is deep as a well. Them that didn't know him'd think he was sanctified; yit he's got devilment enough in him to break the winders out 'n the meetin'-house. Well, he needn't pester wi' Jack and Rose," Miss Jane went on; "Jack'll never marry Rose whilst old Billy Carew is hoppin' along betwixt the grocery and the graveyard. Lord, Lord! to think that sech a no-'count old ereetur as that should be a-ha'ntin' the face of the earth!"

"He took to fiddlin' and drinkin' arter he was fifty year old," remarked the Squire.

"Yes, and the property he hain't drunk up he's fiddled away, till now he hain't got nothin' but a passel of half-free niggers and a little piece of land, and old Bradley Gaither is hungry for that. And that ain't all," exclaimed Miss Jane, solemnly; "Jack is ruined, and Rose is distracted."

"Ah!" said the Squire.

"Yes," said Miss Jane. "Trouble is always double and thribble. Rose was here last Tuesday, and she sot by the winder there and watched Jack all the time she stayed.

"'That's what I call courtship at long taw,' s' I.

"'Yes, Miss Jane,' se' she, 'it is, and I'm in a great deal of trouble about Jack. I understand him, but he don't understand me,' se' she. 'He's mad because father loaned his father money and then took land to pay for it. But I'd marry Jack,' se' she, 'if only to give him his land back.'

"I declare!" Miss Jane continued, "'twould 'a' melted airy heart in the universe to see that child blushin' and cryin', I went and stood by her and put my arms round her, and I says to her, s' I--

"'Don't you fret, honey, don't you fret. Old Billy Carew is full of capers and vain babblin's,' s' I, 'and your pappy is puffed up by his fleshly mind; but the Almighty, he's a-watching' 'em. He'll fetch 'em up wi' a round turn,' s' I; 'He knows how to deal wi' unreasonable and wicked men.' I said them very words."

"Saint Paul said 'em before you, Sister Jane, but you said 'em right,-- you said 'em right," exclaimed Squire Inchly, heartily.

"Well, I don't set up to judge nobody, but I don't need no spyglass to see what's right in front of my face," said Miss Jane.

Thus these two old people sat and talked about the affairs of their friends and neighbours,--affairs in which they might be said to have almost a personal interest. The conversation turned to other matters; but across the way they saw enacted some of the preliminaries and accompaniments of a mysterious complication that finally became as distressing and as disastrous as a tragedy.

Old Billy Carew continued to gesticulate with his cane and to talk to himself. He desired no other audience. One moment he would be convulsed with laughter; then he would draw himself up proudly, wave his hand imperiously, and seem to be laying down a proposition that demanded great deliberation of thought and accuracy of expression. After a while his son, apparently growing tired of the humiliating spectacle, left his father to himself, and went over to Squire Inchly's.

Jack Carew was a great favourite with the Squire and his sister. Miss Jane had petted him as a boy; indeed, after the death of his own mother, she had maintained towards him the relations of a foster-mother. His instinct had told him, even when a child, that the asperity of Miss Inehly was merely the humorous mask of a gentle and sensitive heart.

As he flung himself wearily in the chair which Miss Jane had been quick to provide, he seemed, notwithstanding his dejection, to be a very handsome specimen of manhood. His hair was dark, his eyes large and lustrous, his nose straight and firm, and his chin square and energetic. His face was smooth-shaven, and but for the glow of health in his cheeks, his complexion would have been sallow.

"Father has gone to the legislature again," he said with a faint apologetic smile and a motion of the hand toward the scene of the poor old man's alcoholic eloquence.

"Well," said Miss Jane, soothingly, "he hain't the first poor creetur that's flung his welfare to the winds. The Old Boy's mighty busy in these days, but the Almighty hain't dead yit, I reckon, and he'll come along thereckly and set things to rights."

The young man's face grew gloomy as he looked across the way at his homestead. The house was showing signs of neglect, and the fences were falling away here and there, The jagged splinters of a tall oak, whose top had been wrenched off by a storm, were outlined against the sky, and an old man babbled and dribbled near by. On the hither side the Cherokee roses bloomed and the birds sang. It seemed as if some horrible nightmare had thrust itself between Jack Carew and the sweet dreams of his youth.

"I trust you are right, Miss Jane," said Jack, after a long pause; "but He will have to come soon if lie sets my affairs to rights."

"Don't git down-hearted, Jack," exclaimed Miss Jane, laying her hand upon the young man's arm with a motherly touch. "Them that's big-hearted and broad-shouldered hain't got much to be afear'd of in this world. Have you forgot Rose Gaither, Jack?"

"I haven't forgotten Bradley Gaither," said Jack, frowning darkly, "and I won't forget him in a day, you may depend. Bradley Gaither is at the bottom of all the misery you see there." The young man made a gesture that included the whole horizon.

"Ah, Jack!" exclaimed Miss Jane, solemnly, "I won't deny but what old Bradley Gaither is been mighty busy runnin' arter the rudiments of the world, but the time was when you'd kindle up barely at the mention of Rose Gaither's name."

"Shall I tell you the truth, Miss Jane?" asked Jack Carew, turning to Miss Inchly with a frank but bashful smile.

"You've never failed to do that, Jack, when the pinch come."

"Well, this is the pinch, then. But for Rose Gaither I should have sold out here when I first found how matters stood. I could easily sell out now--to Bradley Gaither."

"That's so, Jack, you could," said Squire Inchly, who had been a sympathetic listener. "Yes, sir, you could; there ain't no two ways about that."

"But I wouldn't, and I won't," continued Jack. "Everybody around here knows my troubles, and I propose, to stay here. I haven't forgotten Rose Gaither, Miss Jane, but I'm afraid she has forgotten me. She has changed greatly."

"You look in the glass," said Miss Jane, with a knowing toss of the head, "and you'll see where the change is. Rose was here t'other day, and she stood right in that room there, behind them identical curtains. I wish--but I sha'n't tell the poor child's secrets. I'll say this: the next time you see Rose Gaither a-passin' by, you raise your hat and tell her howdy, and you'll git the sweetest smile that ever man got."

"Miss Jane!" exclaimed Jack Carew, "you are the best woman in the world."

"Except one, I reckon," said Miss Jane, dryly.

Jack Carew rose from his chair, and straightened himself to his full height. He was a new man. Youth and hope rekindled their fires in his eyes. The flush of enthusiasm revisited his face.

"I feel like a new man; I am a new man!" he exclaimed. Then he glanced at the pitiful figure, maundering and sputtering across the way. "I am going home," he went on, "and will put father to bed and nurse him and take care of him just as if--well, just as if I was his mother."

"The Lord'll love you for it, Jack," said Miss Jane, "and so'll Rose Gaither. When ever'thing else happens," she continued, solemnly, "put your trust in the Lord, and don't have no misdoubts of Rose."

The superstition that recognises omens and portents we are apt to laugh at as vulgar, but it has an enduring basis in the fact that no circumstance can be regarded as absolutely trivial. Events apparently the most trifling lead' to the most tremendous results. The wisest of us know not by what process the casual is transformed into the dreadful, nor how accident is twisted into fate.

Jack Carew visited the Inchlys almost daily; yet if he had postponed the visit, the purport of which has been given above, the probability is that he would have been spared much suffering; on the other hand, he would have missed much happiness that came to him at a time of life when he was best prepared to appreciate it. He had determined in his own mind to sell the little land and the few negroes he had saved from the wreck his father's extravagance had made; he had determined to sell these, and slip away with his father to a new life in the West; but his conversation with Miss Jane gave him new hope and courage, so that when Bradley Gaither, a few weeks afterwards, offered to buy the Carew place for two or three times its value, he received a curt and contemptuous message of refusal.

Young Carew was high-strung and sensitive, even as a boy, and events had only served to develop these traits. When he was compelled to leave college to take charge of his father's' affairs, he felt that his name was disgraced for ever. He found, however, that all who had known him were anxious to hold up his hands, and to give him such support as one friend is prepared to give another. If the Pinetuckians were simple-minded, they were also sympathetic, There was something gracious as well as wholesome in their attitude. The men somehow succeeded in impressing him with a vague idea that they had passed through just such troubles in their youth. The idea was encouraging, and Jack Carew made the most of it.

But he never thought of Rose Gaither without a sense of deepest humiliation. He had loved Rose when they were schoolchildren together, but his passion had now reached such proportions that he deeply resented the fact that his school-hoy love had been so careless and shallow a feeling. Now that circumstances had placed her beyond his reach, he regretted that his youthful love experience was not worthier of the place it held in his remembrance. He could forget that Rose Gaither was the daughter of the man to whom he attributed his troubles, but he could never forget that he himself was the son of a man whose weakness had found him out at an age when manhood ought to have made him strong.

Still, Jack Carew made the most of a bad situation. He had the courage, the endurance, and the hopefulness of youth. He faced his perplexities with at least the appearance of good-humour; and if he had his moments of despair, when the skeleton in the jug in the closet paraded in public, Pinetucky never suspected it. The truth is, while Pinetucky was sympathetic and neighbourly, it was not inclined to make a great fuss over those who took a dram too much now and then. Intemperance was an evil, to be sure; but even intemperance had its humorous side in those days, and Pinetucky was apt to look at the humorous side.

One fine morning, however, Pinetuoky awoke to the fact that it was the centre and scene of a decided sensation. Rumour pulled on her bonnet and boots, and went gadding about like mad. Pinetucky was astonished, then perplexed, then distressed, and finally indignant, as became a conservative and moral community. A little after sunrise, Bradley Gaither had galloped up to Squire Inchly's door with the information that two bales of cotton had been stolen from hie place the night before.

The facts, as sot forth by Bradley Gaither, were that he had twelve bales of cotton ready for market. The twelve balei had been loaded upon three, wagons, and the wagons were to start for Augusta at daybreak. At the last moment, when everything was ready, the teams harnessed, and the drivers in their seats, it was discovered that two bales of the cotton were missing. Fortunately, it had rained during the night, and Bradley Gaither had waited until it was light enough to make an investigation. He found that a wagon bad been driven to his packing-screw. He saw, moreover, that but one wagon had passed along the road after the rain, and it was an easy matter to follow the tracks.

The fact of the theft had surprised Squire Inchly, but the details created consternation in his mind. The tracks of the wagon led to the Carew place! Squire Inchly was prompt with a rebuke.

"Why, you've woke up wi' a joke in your mouth, Mr. Gaither. Now that you've spit it out, less start fresh. A spiteful joke before breakfus' 'll make your flesh crawl arter supper, Mr. Gaither."

Squire Inchly spoke seriously, as became a magistrate. Bradley Gaither's thin lips grew thinner as he smiled.

"I'm as serious as the thieves that stole my cotton, Squire Inchly," said Bradley Gaither.

"Two whole bales of cotton in these days is a heavy loss," said the Squire, reflectively. "I hope you'll ketch the inconsiderate parties to the larceny."

"If you will go with me, Squire, we'll call by for Brother Gossett and Colonel Hightower, and if I'm not mistaken we'll find the cotton not far from here."

"Well, sir," said the Squire, indignantly, "you won't find it on the Carew place. I'll go wi' you and welcome. We don't need no search warrant."

The long and the short of it was that the cotton was found concealed in Jack Carew's rickety barn under a pile of fodder. Of those who joined Bradley Gaither in the search, not one believed that the cottor would be found on the Carew place; and some of them had even gone so far as to suggest to Mr. Gaither that his suspicions had been fathered by his prejudices; but that injured individual merely smiled his cold little smile, and declared that there could be no harm in following the wagon tracks. This was reasonable enough; and the result was that not only was the cotton found, but the wagon standing under the shelter, and two mules at the trough in the lot showed signs of having been used.

These things so shocked those who had gone with Bradley Gaither that they had little to say. They stood confounded. They could not successfully dispute the evidence of their eyes.

They were simple-minded men, and therefore sympathetic. Each one felt ashamed. They did not look into each other's eyes and give utterance to expressions of astonishment. They said nothing; but each one, with the exception of Bradley Gaither, fell into a state of mental confusion akin to awe.

When Bradley Gaither, with cm. air of triumph, asked them if they were satisfied, they said nothing, but turned and walked away one after the other.

They turned and walked away, and went to their homes; and somehow after that, though the sun shone as brightly and the birds fluttered and sang as joyously, a silence fell upon Pinetucky,--a silence full of austerity. The men talked in subdued tones when they met, as though they expected justice to discharge one of her thunderbolts at their feet; and the women went about their duties with a degree of nervousness that was aptly described by Miss Jane Inchly long afterwards, when reciting the experiences of that most memorable day in the history of Pinetucky. "I let a sifter drop out 'n my hand," said she, "and I declare to gracious if it didn't sound like a cannon had went off."

In all that neighbourhood the Carews, father and son, had but one accuser, and not one apologist. Pinetucky existed in a primitive period, as we are in the habit of believing now, and its people were simple-minded people. In this age of progress and culture, morality and justice are arrayed in many refinements of speech and thought. They have been readjusted, so to speak, by science; but in Pinetucky in the forties, morality and justice were as robust and as severe as they are in the Bible.

It was not until after the machinery of justice had been set in motion that Pinetucky allowed itself to comment on the case; but the comment was justified by the peculiar conduct of the Carews, When they were confronted with the facts--the cotton concealed in the barn and the warrant in the hands of the sheriff,--old Billy Carew fell to trembling as though he had the palsy. Jack had turned pale as death, and had made a movement toward Bradley Gaither as though to offer violence; but when he saw his father shaking so, the colour returned to his face, and he exclaimed quickly--

"The warrant is for me alone, Mr. Sheriff. Pay no attention to father. He is old, and his mind is weak."

"He's a liar!" the old man screamed, when he found his voice. "He's a miserable liar! He never stole that cotton. Don't tetch him! don't you dast to tetch him! He'll lie to you, but he won't steal your cotton! Put my name in that warrant. Bradley Gaither stole my money and land; I reckon I've got the rights to steal his cotton."

"He's drunk again," said Jack. "We'll carry him in the house, and then I'll be ready to go with you."

But the old man was not carried to the house without a scene. He raved, and screamed, and swore, and finally fell to the ground in a fit of impotent rage, protesting to the last that Jack was a liar. When those who were present had been worked up to the highest pitch of excitement, Bradley Gaither spoke--

"Don't criminate yourself, Jack. I am willing to drop this matter." He appeared to be greatly agitated.

"Drop what matter?" exclaimed young Carew in a passion. "I have a matter with you, sir, that won't be dropped."

"Go your ways, then," said Bradley Gaither; "I've done my duty." With that he mounted his horse, and Jack Carew was left in the hands of the sheriff.

The machinery of the law was not as difficult to set in motion in those days as it is now. There was no delay. Pinetuoky was greatly interested in the trial, and during the two days of its continuance delegations of Pinetuckians were present as spectators. Some of these were summoned to testify to the good character of young Carew, and this they did with a simplicity that was impressive; but neither their testimony nor the efforts of the distinguished counsel for the defence, Colonel Peyton Poindexter, had any effect. The facts and the tacit admissions of Jack were against him. Colonel Poindexter's closing speech was long remembered, and indeed is alluded to even now, as the most eloquent and impressive ever delivered in the court-house in Rockville; but it failed to convince the jury. A verdict in accordance with the facts and testimony was brought in, and Jack Carew was sentenced to serve a term in the penitentiary at Milledgeville.

The first to bring this information to Pinetucky was Bradley Gaither himself. He stopped at Squire Inehly's for his daughter, and went in.

"What's the news?" asked Miss Jane.

"Bad, very bad news," said Bradley Gaither.

"Jack ain't hung, I reckon," said Miss Jane. "My mind tells me, day and night, that the poor boy in innocent as the child that's unborn."

"Innocent or guilty," said Bradley Gaither, "he has been sent to the penitentiary."

Miss Jane gave a quick glance at Rose, and was just in time to catch her as she fell from her chair.

"Ah, poor child!" cried Miss Jane, "her heart is broke!"

"Rose!--Daughter!--Darling!" exclaimed Bradley Gaither, dropping on his knees beside her. "Oh, what is this? What have I done? Speak to her, Miss Inchly! What shall I do?" He was pale as death, and his features worked convulsively.

"Do nothin', Mr. Gaither. You've done more 'n you can undo a'ready. You've took and give that poor boy over for to be persecuted, Mr. Gaither, and now the innocent suffers and the wicked goes scotch-free."

Bradley Gaither covered his face with his hands and groaned aloud.

"What have I done? What have I done?" he cried.

Miss Jane supported the girl in her strong arms with a grim display of affection, but her attitude towards Bradley Gaither was uncompromising.

"Don't alarm yourself, Mr. Gaither," she said; "this poor child'll come too, quick enough. Folks don't fling off the'r misery this easy!"

Rose revived after a while, but she seemed to have no desire to talk to her father. After a copious use of camphor, Miss Jane fixed Rose comfortably on the lounge, and the girl lay there and gazed at the ceiling, the picture of wide-eyed despair. Bradley Gaither paced the room like one distracted. His sighs were heart-rending. When Miss Jane succeeded in getting him out of the room, he paced up and down the entry, moving his lips and groaning as though in great mental agony. Failing to understand what emotions he was at the mercy of, Miss Jane failed to sympathise with him. To her mind his display of grief bore no sort of proportion to the cause, and she had a woman's contempt for any manifestation of weakness in man, even the weakness of grief.

"I'll pray to the Lord to forgive me!" he cried out piteously.

"That's right," exclaimed Miss Jane, in her decisive way. "But if the grace of pra'r was in the hinges of the knee, I know a heap of folks that'd be easy in the mind."

Every word she spoke cut like a knife, but not until long after did Miss Inchly realise the fact. When she did realise it, it is to be feared she hugged the remembrance of it to her bosom with a sort of grim thankfulness that Providence had so happily fashioned her words and directed her tongue.

As time passed on, the Pinetuckians became aware that a great change had come over both Bradley Gaither and his daughter. The father grew old before his time, and fell into a decline, as his neighbours expressed it. The daughter grew more beautiful, but it was beauty of a kind that belonged to devoutness; so that in contemplating it the minds of men were led in the direction of mercy and charity and all manner of good deeds.

One night, a year or more after the trial and sentence of Jack Carew, a negro on horseback rode to Squire Inchly's door, and said that his master, Bradley Gaither, desired the Squire to come to him at once. The worthy magistrate was prompt to obey the summons; and when he arrived at the Gaither place, he found that the preacher and other neighbours had also been summoned. Bradley Gaither lay upon his bed, surrounded by these, and it was plain to see that his sands of life had about run out. He presented a spectacle of dissolution calculated to arouse the sympathies of those who stood around his bed.

When Squire Inchly had arrived, Bradley Gaither lay a little while with his eyes closed as in a dream. Then he motioned to his daughter, who drew from beneath his pillow a few sheets of letter-paper stained and blotted with ink. This she handed to the minister.

"Read it aloud," said Bradley Gaither. The minister, with some degree of embarrassment, adjusted his spectacles and read:--

"With this paper will be found my last will and testament. I am unhappy, but I should be less miserable if I knew I could put such meaning in these lines as no man could misunderstand. I have sinned against an innocent man, I have sinned against my dear daughter, I have sinned against myself, I have sinned against God. I have been guilty of a great wrong, and though I cannot forgive myself, yet I hope to be forgiven. John Carew, who is now in prison, is an innocent man. I coveted his land. In my worldly-mindedness I set my heart upon his possessions. I offered him double their value. I thought he treated me with contempt, and then I hit upon a plan to drive him out. I carried the cotton to his barn and hid it. He knew no more about it than any honest man. But as God is my judge, I did not foresee the end. I thought he would compromise and sell the land and go away. At the last the law took the matter out of my hands. John Carew believes that he is suffering punishment in place of his father; but William Carew is as honest as his son, and no man could be honester than that. I, Bradley Gaither, being in my right mind and of sound memory, do hereby charge myself with the crime for which John Carew has been adjudged guilty. Let the disgrace of it be attached to me alone. The sin of it I hope a merciful God will forgive."