rejoined Sarah. "To think of a great hulkin" fellow like you losin" yo"
sense over a half mad will-o"-the-wisp that don"t even come of decent people. If she hadn"t had eyes as big as saucers, do you reckon you"d ever have turned twice to look at her?"
"For G.o.d"s sake don"t talk about her--she"s not going to marry me," he responded, and the admission of the truth he had so often repeated in his own mind caused a pang of disbelief.
"I"d like to know why she ain"t?" snorted Sarah indignantly, "does she think she"s goin" to get a better catch in this neighbourhood?"
"Oh, it"s all one. She doesn"t want to, that is enough."
"Well, she"s a fool if she doesn"t want to, an" I"ll say it to her face.
If thar"s a better lookin" man around here, I"d like to see him, or a better worker. What have the Merryweathers to be so set up about, I"d like to know? And that gal without even a father to her name that she can call her own!"
"You mustn"t--I won"t stand it any longer."
"Well, it"s for yo" good, I reckon. If yo" own mother can"t take yo"
side, I"d like to know who"s goin" to do it?"
"I don"t want anybody to take my side. She"s got a right not to marry me."
"I ain"t saying" she ain"t, an" it"s a mighty good thing for you that she"s sech a plum fool as not to want to. "Twould be the worst news I"d ever heard if she"d been minded to have you. I"d move heaven an" earth to keep you from marryin" her, an" if the good Lord has done it instead of me, I"m thankful enough to Him for His trouble."
Rising from the table, Abel pushed his untasted food aside with a gesture of loathing. A week ago he had been interested in the minor details of life; to-night he felt that they bored him profoundly.
"If you knew what you were saying you"d hold your tongue," he retorted angrily.
"Ain"t you goin" to eat yo" supper?" inquired Sarah anxiously, "that herrin" is real nice and brown."
"I don"t want anything. I"m not hungry."
"Mebbe you"d like one of the brandied peaches I"m savin" for Christmas?"
"No, I"m dead beat. I"ll go up to sleep pretty soon."
"Do you want a fire? I can lay one in a minute."
He shook his head, not impatiently, but as one to whom brandied peaches and wood fires are matters of complete indifference.
"I"ve got to see about something in the stable first. Then I"ll go to bed."
Taking down a lantern from a nail by the door, he went out, as was his nightly habit, to look at his grey mare Hannah. When he came in again and stumbled up the narrow staircase to his room, he found that Sarah had been before him and kindled a blaze from resinous pine on the two bricks in the fireplace. At the sound of his step, she entered with an armful of pine boughs, which she tossed to the flames.
"I reckon the cracklin" will make you feel mo" comfortable," she observed. "Thar ain"t anything like a lightwood fire to drive away the misery."
"It does sound friendly," he responded.
For a moment she hesitated, groping apparently for some topic of conversation which would divert his mind from one subject that engrossed him.
"Archie"s just come in," she remarked at last, "an" he walked up with old Uncle Toby, who said he"d seen a ha"nt in the dusk over at Poplar Spring. I don"t see how Mrs. Gay an" Miss Kesiah can endure to live thar."
"Oh, they"re just darkies" tales--n.o.body believes in them any more than in conjuring and witches."
"That"s true, I reckon, but I shouldn"t like to live over thar all the same. They say old Mr. Jonathan comes out of his grave and walks whenever one of "em is to be buried or married."
"n.o.body"s dead that I"ve heard of, and I don"t suppose either Mr.
Jonathan or Miss Kesiah are thinking of getting married."
"Well, I s"pose so--but I"m might glad he ain"t taken the notion to walk around here. I don"t believe in ha"nts, but I ain"t got no use for "em."
She went out, closing the door after her; and dropping into a chair by the fire, he buried his face in his hands, while he vowed in his heart that he would stop thinking of Molly.
CHAPTER XIII
BY THE MILL-RACE
A warm, though hazy, sun followed the sharp night, and only the blackened and damaged plants in the yard bore witness to the frost, which had melted to the semblance of rain on the gra.s.s. On the dappled boughs of the sycamore by the mill-race several bronze leaves hung limp and motionless, as if they were attached by silken threads to the stems, and the coating of moss on the revolving wheel shone like green enamel on a groundwork of ebony. The white mist, which had wrapped the landscape at dawn, still lay in the hollows of the pasture, from which it floated up as the day advanced to dissolve in shining moisture upon the hillside. There was a keen autumn tang in the air--a mingling of rotting leaves, of crushed winesaps, of drying sa.s.safras. As Abel pa.s.sed from the house to the mill, his gaze rested on a golden hickory tree near the road, where a grey squirrel sported merrily under the branches.
Like most of his neighbours, he had drawn his weather predictions from the habits of the wild creatures, and had decided that it would be an open winter because the squirrels had left the larger part of the nuts ungarnered.
At the door of the mill, as he turned the big rusty key in the lock, he told himself doggedly that since he was not to have Molly, the only sensible thing was to surrender the thought of her. While he started a blaze in the stove, and swept the floor with the broomsedge broom he kept for the purpose, he forced his mind to dwell on the sacks of grist that stood ready for grinding. The fox-hound puppy, Moses, had followed him from the house, and sat now over the threshold watching a robin that hopped warily in the band of sunlight. The robin was in search of a few grains of buckwheat which had dropped from a measure, and the puppy had determined that, although he was unable to eat the buckwheat himself, he would endeavor to prevent the robin from doing so. So intent was he upon this resolve, that he forgot to bark at an old negro, who drove up presently in an ancient gig, the harness of which was tied on a decrepit mule with pieces of rope. The negro had left some corn to be ground, and as he took his sack of meal from the miller, he let fall a few lamentations on the general forlorn state of human nature.
"Dish yer livin" is moughty hard, marster, but I reckon we"se all got ter come ter hit."
"Well, you manage to raise a little good corn anyway, so you ought to be thankful instead of complaining."
"Dar ain" nuttin" "tall ter be thankful fur in dat, suh, case de Lawd He ain" had no mo" ter do wid dat ar co"n den ole Ma.r.s.e Hawtrey way over yonder at Pipin" Tree. I jes" ris dat ar con" wid my own han" right down de road at my f"ont do", an" po"d de water on hit outer de pump at my back un. I"se monst"ous glad ter praise de Lawd fur what He done done, but I ain" gwine ter gin "im credit fur de wuk er my own fis" en foot."
"Are you going by Jordan"s Journey, uncle? I"d like to send Reuben Merryweather"s buckwheat to him."
"Naw, boss, I ain"t a-gwine by dar, caze dat ar Jerdan"s Jerney ain got a good name ter my years. I ain"t a-feard er ha"nts by daylight, but I"se monst"ous feared er badness day er nightime, en hit sutney do pear ter me like de badness er ole Ma.r.s.e Jonathan done got in de a"r er dat ar Jerdan"s Jerney. Hit"s ha"nted by badness, dat"s what "tis, en dar ain n.o.body cep"n Gawd A"mought Hisse"f dat kin lay badness."
He went out, stooping under the weight of his bag, and picking up a grey turkey"s wing from the ledge, Abel began brushing out the valve of the mill, in which the meal had grown heavy from dampness.
"The truth is, Moses," he remarked, "you are a fool to want what you can"t have in life." The puppy looked up at him inquiringly, its long ears flapping about its soft foolish face. "But I reckon we"re all fools, when it comes to that."
When the grinding was over for the day, he shut down the mill, and calling Moses to heel, went out on the old mill-race, where the upper gate was locked by a crude wooden spar known as the "key." He was standing under the sycamore, with this implement in his hand, when he discerned the figure of Molly approaching slowly amid the feathery white pollen which lay in patches of delicate bloom over the sorrel waste of the broomsedge. Without moving he waited until she had crossed the log and stood looking up at him from the near side of the stream.
"Abel, are you still angry with me?" she asked, smiling.
Dropping the key into the lock, he walked slowly to the end of the mill-race, and descended the short steps to the hillside.
"No, I"m not angry--at least I don"t think I am--but I"ve taken your advice and given you up."
"But, Abel---"
"I suppose you meant to take Mr. Mullen all the time that you were making a fool of me. He"s a better man for you, probably, than I am."
"Do you really think that?" she asked in a tone of surprise. "Would you like to see me married to him?"