She liked the impa.s.sive almost Egyptian face of Aunt Dolcey, too. The old coloured woman had received her with a serious regard but friendly.
"Mist" Wes, he stahtle me mighty frequen", but he nevah stahtle me with no marryin" befo"," she said. "Honey, it"ll be mighty nice to have a pret" young gal in de house. I"ll serve you de bes" I kin, faithful an" stiddy, like I always serve him. Ef I"d "a" known you was a-comin" I"d sho" had somethin" fo" dinneh to-day besides greens an"
po"k, cracklin" pone an" apple dumplin"s. That"s nuffin" fo" a weddin"
dinneh."
But when they came to eat it, it was delicious--the greens delicately seasoned, not greasy, the salt pork home-cured and sweet, the cracklin" pone crumbling with richness, and the apple dumpling a delight of spicy flavour.
They sat opposite each other, in as matter-of-fact fashion as if they had been married for years. They were young and exceedingly hungry, and hunger destroys self-consciousness.
The china was very old--white plates with a curving pattern of blue leaves and yellow berries. The knives and forks were polished steel with horn handles. The spoons were silver; old handmade rat-tail spoons they were, with the mark of the smith"s mallet still upon them and the initials W.D. cut in uneven letters.
"Those were my great-granddad"s," said Wesley. "Same name as mine. He had "em made out of silver money by a man down in Frederick. They must be nearly a hundred years old. My great-granddad, he was the man that bought this land and began to clear it. He wanted to be away off from everybody."
"Why?" asked Annie, interested in the story.
The vein on Wesley"s forehead seemed to grow larger and darker as he answered:
"Oh, he got into trouble--knocked a man down, and the fellow struck his head on a stone and died. It didn"t come to trial--it really was an accident--but it didn"t make granddad popular. Not that he cared.
He was a hard-headed, hard-fisted old son of a gun, if there ever was one, according to the stories they tell about him."
"What were they fighting about?"
"Oh, I dunno--granddad was high-tempered, and this fellow was sort of smart Aleck; give him some lip about something and dared him to touch him. And quick"s a wink granddad punched him. At least that"s the way I always heard it. Prob"ly they"d both been taking too much hard cider. Bring me another dumplin", Aunt Dolcey, please."
As the old woman entered, bringing the dumpling, Annie fancied there were both warning and sympathy in her eyes. Why, she couldn"t imagine.
In a moment she forgot it, for Wesley was looking at her hard.
"It"s funny," he said, "to think I only saw you yesterday, and that we got married this morning. Seems as if you"d been here for years and years. Does it seem awful strange to you, honey?"
"No," said Annie. "No, it doesn"t. It is queer, but all the way here, and when I come into the house, I had a sense of having been here before sometime; kind of as if it was my home all along and I hadn"t known about it."
"So it was--and if I hadn"t ever met you I"d been an old bach all my life."
"Yes, you would."
"Yes, I wouldn"t."
They were both laughing now. He got up and stretched himself.
"Well, Mrs. Dean," he said, "I gotta go out and fix my disker, and you gotta come along. I don"t want to let you out of my sight. You might fly off somewhere, and I"d never find you again."
"Don"t you worry about that. You couldn"t lose me if you tried."
They went through the kitchen, and there a tall gaunt old coloured man rose and bowed respectfully. He and Aunt Dolcey were having their own dinner at the kitchen table.
"This here"s Unc" Zenas," said Wesley. "He"s Aunt Dolcey"s husband, and helps me on the place."
And again Annie saw, this time in the old man"s eyes, the flicker of sympathy and apprehension that she had marked in Aunt Dolcey"s.
"And right glad to welcome y", Missy," said Unc" Zenas. "We didn"
"spect Ma.r.s.e Wes to bring home a wife whenas he lef", but that ain" no sign that it ain" a mighty fine thing."
They went out into the mellow spring day. Wesley Dean, now in his blue overalls and working shirt, became a king in his own domain, a part of the fair primitiveness about them. It was as if he had sprung from this dark fertile soil, was made of its elements, at one with it. Here he belonged, and the very spring of the earth beneath his feet was repeated in the measured beating of his blood. The land could not warp or break him, as it does so many, for he belonged to it as essentially and as completely as it belonged to him. Dimly the little town girl beside him felt this, and dimly she hoped that she, too, might prove to be of the same mould.
"Look at the barn, and the stables, and the corncrib," he was saying.
"See how they"re all built? Hand-hewn logs c.h.i.n.ked with plaster.
Great-granddad built them all, helped by his two slaves. That"s all the slaves he had, just two and one of "em was Unc" Zenas"s grandfather. Everything"s strong and sound as the day he finished it."
"That one looks newer," said Annie, pointing.
Wesley looked a little shamefaced, as does every typical Anglo-Saxon discovered in sentiment.
"I built that," he confessed. "It"s a chicken house. Somehow I didn"t want to go down to the sawmill and get planks and build with "em "mongst all these old log things. So I got the logs out in the woods and build same as great-granddad. Maybe it was foolish, but I couldn"t help it."
"It wasn"t foolish; it was nice," she affirmed.
She perched on the tongue of a wagon while he mended the disker, dividing her attention between him and the live things of the barnyard. A string of decorative white ducks marched in single file about the edge of the cow pound. Beyond them a proud red-wattled c.o.c.k paraded and purred among his harem of trim hens, now and then disturbed in his dignity by the darting nervousness of a pair of malicious guineas, acknowledged brigands of the feathered tribes. Trim iridescent pigeons toddled about on their coral feet, looking for leftovers from the chickens" table.
"Say, Wes, I should think you"d have a dog," she said suddenly. "A nice big dog lazying round here would sort of complete it."
He bent suddenly over his disker and gave the nut he was working on a mighty twist, but he had tossed aside his hat, and she could see the sudden jump and darkening of his menacing vein.
"I had a dog," he said in a low voice, "but he died."
A curious restraint fell on them, and for the first time Annie felt herself an alien, a stranger, far adrift from familiar sh.o.r.es.
She shivered in the light wind.
"You cold? You better go in the house and get something round you,"
Wes said to her.
"I guess I"d better." And she left him hammering.
In the house she found Aunt Dolcey in the big bedroom over the living room. She had just finished remaking the bed--an old maple four-poster, the wood a soft and mellowed orange, fine and colourful against the white quilt, the lace-edged pillow slips.
"I put on clean sheets," said Aunt Dolcey as Annie hesitated on the threshold. "Yes"m, I put on everything clean, an" the bes". I know what"s fitten. My chile, dish yer de third bridal bed I made up for wives of de Dean men."
Something caught in Annie"s throat, terrified her. This old black woman, with her remoteness, her pitying wise eyes, what did she mean?
Annie wanted terribly to ask her. But how begin? How get through this wall of inscrutability which the black and yellow races have raised for their protection?
She fluttered nearer to the old woman.
"Look," she began tremulously--"look--it"s all right, isn"t it, my marrying him so quick? I haven"t got any folks, and--and I suppose I haven"t got much sense; but there was something about him that just made me trust him and--and want him. But it was all so quick, and--now I"m here it seems like maybe--there was--something----Oh, you"d tell me, wouldn"t you? It is all right, isn"t it?"
The old woman considered. "It"s all right ef you"re all right," she p.r.o.nounced at length.
"But--but what do you mean? And--and look here--Aunt Dolcey--tell me--what"d he do to that dog he had?"
"What you know "bout any dog?"