Part 12

With an indescribable look into Phenie's pale, down-cast face,--a look made up of pain, tenderness and reproach,--he put her hand through his arm, and they went away.

As might have been expected, Phenie avoided me, after this, more carefully than ever. I was glad that she did so. I was also glad when, a week or two later, Mrs. Angel presented herself, in a towering state of indignation, to inform me that Phenie had received her discharge. In vain I reminded her that Phenie's position had been, from the beginning, a temporary one.

"I don't keer!" she persisted. "I'd like ter know what difference it would 'a' made to the Government--jess that little bit o' money! An' me a-needin' of it so! Why couldn't they have discharged some o' them women as sets all day on them velvet carpets an' cheers, a-doin' nothin' but readin' story-papers? Phenie's seen 'em a-doin' of it, time an' ag'in--an' she a-workin' at a old greasy machine!"

In vain I endeavored to prove that no injustice had been done. Mrs. Angel's attitude toward the United States Government remains, to this day, inflexibly hostile.

"Ef Columbus had let alone interferin' between Phenie an' them that was intendin' well by her, I reckon she'd 'a' been settin' on one o' them velvet cheers herself by this time," she remarked, mysteriously, "or a-doin' better still."

I looked at her sharply.

"They's a gentleman," she went on, with a foolish smile, "a gineral, as is all taken up with Phenie. He's a great friend o' the President's, you know, an' they's no knowin' what he _might_ do for the gal, ef Columbus'd let alone interferin'."

"Then Phenie has told you of her new acquaintance?" I said, much relieved.

Mrs. Angel looked at me blankly.

"Lord, no!" she answered, "_she_ never let on! No, indeed! But I knowed it--I knowed it all along. Sam Weaver's gal, _she_ told me about it. I knowed she was keepin' company with him, kind o'."

"And you said nothing to Phenie?"

"Lord, no! Gals is bashful, Mis' Lawrence. No, indeed!"

"Nor say a word of all this to Columbus?" I asked again.

"What fur?" said Mrs. Angel, imperturbably.

He ain't got no call ter interfere, ef she kin do better."

I was silent a moment in sheer despair.

"Do you imagine, for one moment," I said, finally, "that if this general, as he calls himself, is really what he pretends to be, a gentleman and a friend of the President's, that he means honestly by Phenie?"

Mrs. Angel regarded me with a fixed stare, in which I discerned wonder at my incredulity, and indignation at the implied disparagement of her daughter.

"Why not?" she asked, with some heat. "Phenie was a-readin' me a story, not so long ago, about a man, a lord or somethin' like, as married a miller's daughter. The name was 'The Secrit Marriage,' or thereabouts. I'd like to know ef she ain't as good as a _miller's_ daughter, any time o' day?"

I said no more. "Against stupidity even the gods strive in vain."

* * * * *

A month later, perhaps, Mrs. Angel, whom I had not seen since the interview just related, came toiling up the stairs with her arms piled high with suggestive-looking packages, and beamingly and unceremoniously entered my sitting-room. With rather more than her customary ease of manner, she deposited herself and parcels upon the lounge, and exclaimed, pantingly:

"Wall! Phenie an' Columbus is goin' ter be married Sunday week!"

"Ah!" I responded, with a sympathetic thrill, "so they have made it up again?"

"Yes, indeed!" she answered, "they've done made it up. They _was_ one time I was most afeard Columbus was goin' to back out, though. 'Twas after that time when he come down here after Phenie, an' found her a-goin' out 'long o' that Bureau gal an' that man as called hisself a gineral!"

"So you found out the character of Phenie's friend at last?" I said.

"Columbus, _he_ found it out. I'll tell ye how 'twas. Ye see, him an' Phenie was a-havin' of it that night after they got home. They was in the front room, but they's right smart of a crack 'roun' the do', an' you kin hear right smart ef you sets up clos't enough," she explained, naïvely.

"'Phenie,' says Columbus, kind o' humble like, 'I don't want no wife as don't like me better 'n ary other man in the world. Ef you likes that man, an' he's a good man, an' means right by ye, I ain't one ter stan' in your way; but,' says he, 'I don't believe he's no good. I've seen them kind befo', an' I don't have no confidence into him.'

"'Columbus,' says Phenie, kind o' spirited, fur _her_, 'you ain't got no call to talk agin' him. He's a gentleman, he is!'

"'All right!' says Columbus, chokin' up, 'all right. Mebbe he is--but I don't like this meetin' of him unbeknownst, Phenie. It ain't the thing. Now I want you ter promise me not to meet him any more _unbeknownst_ till you knows more about him, an' you give me leave ter find out all about him, an' see ef I don't.'

"'I won't listen to no lies,' says Phenie, kind o' fiery.

"'I won't tell ye no lies, Phenie,' he says. 'I never has, an' I ain't goin' ter begin now.'

"Then he got up an' shoved his cheer back, and I had ter go 'way from the crack.

"Wall, Phenie looked real white an' sick after that, an' I felt right down sorry fur the gal, but I didn't let on I knew anything, 'cause 'twaren't _my_ place ter speak _fust_, ye know! Wall, she dragged 'round fur three, four days,--that was after she was discharged, you see,--an' one evenin' Columbus he come in all tremblin' an' stirred up, an' him an' her went inter the room, an' I sat up ter the crack. An' Columbus he begun.

"'Phenie,' says he, his voice all hoarse an' shaky, 'Phenie, what would you say ef I was ter tell ye your fine gineral _wasn't_ no gineral, an' was a married man at that?'

"'Prove it!' says Phenie.

"I had ter laugh ter hear her speak up so peart, like. I didn't think 'twas in her, and she not much more'n a child.

"'Wall,' says Columbus, 'ef _I_ can't prove it, I knows them as kin.'

"'Wall,' says Phenie, 'when he tells me so hisself, I'll believe it, an' not befo'!'

"Then Columbus went away, an' I could see he was all worked up an' mad. His face was white as cotton. Phenie, she went to bed, an' I heerd her a-cryin' an' a-snubbin' all night. She couldn't eat no breakfast, nuther, though I made griddle-cakes, extry for her; an' she dressed herself an' went off somewheres--I didn't ask her, but I reckon she went down ter the city ter find out about that man. Wall, towards night she come home, an' I never see a gal look so--kind o' wild, like, an' her eyes a-shinin' an' her cheeks as red as pinies. She sot an' looked out o' the winder, an' looked, an' bimeby Columbus he come in, an' they went into the room. I couldn't hear rightly what they said, the chill'en was makin' sich a noise, but I heared Phenie bust out a-cryin' fit to break her heart, an' then Columbus, he--wall, Lord! I never did see sich a feller! He jess loves the groun' that gal's feet walks on!"

"He must be very forgiving," I said. "Phenie has used him badly."

"Wall, I do' know," she replied, with perfect simplicity. "I do' know as she was beholden to Columbus ef she could a-done better. The child didn't mean no harm."

Although aware of the impracticability of trying to render Mrs. Angel's comprehension of maternal duty clearer, I could not help saying:

"But why didn't you, as the girl's own mother and nearest friend, have a talk with Phenie in the beginning? You might have spared her a great deal of trouble."

Mrs. Angel's eyes dilated with surprise.

"Lord! Mis' Lawrence!" she exclaimed, "you do' know! Why, gals is that bashful! They couldn't tell their _mothers_ sich things. Why, I'd 'a' died 'fore I'd 'a' told mine anything about--love-matters! Lord!"

"Well," I sighed, "I'm glad Phenie is going to marry so good a fellow as Columbus."

"Y--yes," she answered, condescendingly, "he's a good feller, Columbus is. He don't drink or smoke, an' he's mighty savin'."

I remarked here, as on other occasions, that Mrs. Angel regarded this being "savin'" as a purely masculine virtue.

"He's give Phenie most a hundred dollars a'ready," she continued, complacently. "They ain't no gal 'round as 'll have nicer things 'n Phenie."

A fortnight later the newly wedded pair called upon me. Phenie looked very sweet in her bridal finery, but there was something in her face which I did not like. It meant neither peace nor happiness. She looked older. There were some hard lines around her lips, and the childish expression of her lovely eyes had given place to a restless, absent look. Her husband was serenely unconscious of anything wanting--unconscious, indeed, of everything but his absolute bliss, and his new shiny hat. He wore a lavender necktie, now, and gloves of the same shade, which were painfully tight, and, with the hat, would have made life a burden to any but the bridegroom of a week's standing. Phenie had little to say, but Columbus was jubilantly loquacious.

"I've gone out o' butcherin' fur good an' all," he declared, emphatically. "Phenie didn't like it, an' no more do I. Hucksterin' is more to my mind, ma'am. It's _cleaner_ an'--an' more genteel, ma'am. I've got a _good_ stan', an' I mean to keep Phenie like a _lady_, ma'am!"

* * * * *

She lived but a year after this. She and her baby were buried in one grave. That was five years ago. Columbus still wears a very wide hat-band of crape, and mourns her sincerely.

Her death was a heavy blow to her mother, whose grief is borne with constant repining and unreasoning reflections. The fountains of her eyes overflow at the mere utterance of the girl's name.

"The doctors 'lowed 'twas consumption as ailed her," she often repeats, "but I ain't never got red o' thinkin' 'twas trouble as killed her. I used ter think, Mis' Lawrence," she says, with lowered voice, "that she hadn't never got over thinkin' of that man as fooled her so! I wish I could see him oncet! Says she ter me, time an' agin', 'Ma,' says she, 'I reckon I ain't a-goin' ter live long. I'm right young ter die, but I do' know as I keer!' says she."

"Did her husband ever suspect that she was unhappy?" I asked.

"Lord no, ma'am! Or ef he did he never let on! An' I never seen sich a man! There wasn't _nothin'_ he didn't git her while she was sick, an' her coffin was a sight! An' he goes to her grave, rain or shine, as reg'lar as Sunday comes."

As I have said, several years have passed since Phenie's death, but Mrs. Angel's visits have never ceased. The lapse of time has left hardly any traces upon her comely exterior. In times of plenty, her soul expands gleefully and the brown-paper parcels multiply. In times of dearth, she sits, an elderly Niobe, and weeps out her woes upon my hearth-stone. The black satchel, too, by some occult power, has resisted the wear and tear of years and exposure to the elements, and continues to swallow up my substance insatiably as of yore. Occasionally, as I have said, something within me rises in arms against her quiet, yet persistent encroachments, but this is a transitory mood. Her next visit puts my resolutions to flight.

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