Unconscious, rapt, they stepped out into the Big Road skirting the edge of the swamp. Why not? Was it not the King"s Highway? And Love was King.
So they talked on, unknowing that far up the road the Cresswell coaches were wheeling along with precious burdens. In the first carriage were Mrs. Grey and Mrs. Vanderpool, Mr. Cresswell and Miss Taylor. Mrs.
Vanderpool was lolling luxuriously, but Mrs. Grey was a little stiff from long travel and sat upright. Mr. Cresswell looked clean-cut and handsome, and Miss Taylor seemed complacent and responsible. The dying of the day soothed them all insensibly. Groups of dark little children pa.s.sed them as they neared the school, staring with wide eyes and greeting timidly.
"There seems to be marrying and giving in marriage," laughed Mrs.
Vanderpool.
"Not very much," said Mr. Cresswell drily.
"Well, at least plenty of children."
"Plenty."
"But where are the houses?" asked Mrs. Grey.
"Perhaps in the swamp," said Mrs. Vanderpool lightly, looking up at the sombre trees that lined the left.
"They live where they please and do as they please," Cresswell explained; to which Mrs. Vanderpool added: "Like other animals."
Mary Taylor opened her lips to rebuke this levity when suddenly the coachman called out and the horses swerved, and the carriage"s four occupants faced a young man and a young woman embracing heartily.
Out through the wood Bles and Zora had come to the broad red road; playfully he celebrated all her beauty unconscious of time and place.
"You are tall and bend like gra.s.ses on the swamp," he said.
"And yet look up to you," she murmured.
"Your eyes are darkness dressed in night."
"To see you brighter, dear," she said.
"Your little hands are much too frail for work."
"They must grow larger, then, and soon."
"Your feet are far too small to travel on."
"They"ll travel on to you--that"s far enough."
"Your lips--your full and purple lips--were made alone for kissing, not for words."
"They"ll do for both."
He laughed in utter joy and touched her hair with light caressing hands.
"It does not fly with sunlight," she said quickly, with an upward glance.
"No," he answered. "It sits and listens to the night."
But even as she nestled to him happily there came the harsh thunder of horses" hoofs, beating on their ears. He drew her quickly to him in fear, and the coach lurched and turned, and left them facing four pairs of eyes. Miss Taylor reddened; Mrs. Grey looked surprised; Mrs.
Vanderpool smiled; but Mr. Cresswell darkened with anger. The couple unclasped shamefacedly, and the young man, lifting his hat, started to stammer an apology; but Cresswell interrupted him:
"Keep your--your philandering to the woods, or I shall have you arrested," he said slowly, his face colorless, his lips twitching with anger. "Drive on, John."
Miss Taylor felt that her worst suspicions had been confirmed; but Mrs.
Vanderpool was curious as to the cause of Cresswell"s anger. It was so genuine that it needed explanation.
"Are kisses illegal here?" she asked before the horses started, turning the battery of her eyes full upon him. But Cresswell had himself well in hand.
"No," he said. "But the girl is--notorious."
On the lovers the words fell like a blow. Zora shivered, and a grayish horror mottled the dark burning of her face. Bles started in anger, then paused in shivering doubt. What had happened? They knew not; yet involuntarily their hands fell apart; they avoided each other"s eyes.
"I--I must go now," gasped Zora, as the carriage swept away.
He did not hold her, he did not offer the farewell kiss, but stood staring at the road as she walked into the swamp. A moment she paused and looked back; then slowly, almost painfully, she took the path back to the field of the Fleece, and reaching it after long, long minutes, began mechanically to pick the cotton. But the cotton glowed crimson in the failing sun.
Bles walked toward the school. What had happened? he kept asking. And yet he dared not question the awful shape that sat somewhere, cold and still, behind his soul. He heard the hoofs of horses again. It was Miss Taylor being brought back to the school to greet Miss Smith and break the news of the coming of the party. He raised his hat. She did not return the greeting, but he found her pausing at the gate. It seemed to her too awful for this foolish fellow thus to throw himself away. She faced him and he flinched as from some descending blow.
"Bles," she said primly, "have you absolutely no shame?"
He braced himself and raised his head proudly.
"I am going to marry her; it is no crime." Then he noted the expression on her face, and paused.
She stepped back, scandalized.
"Can it be, Bles Alwyn," she said, "that you don"t know the sort of girl she is?"
He raised his hands and warded off her words, dumbly, as she turned to go, almost frightened at the havoc she saw. The heavens flamed scarlet in his eyes and he screamed.
"It"s a lie! It"s a d.a.m.ned lie!" He wheeled about and tore into the swamp.
"It"s a d.a.m.ned lie!" he shouted to the trees. "Is it?--is it?" chirped the birds. "It"s a cruel falsehood!" he moaned. "Is it?--is it?"
whispered the devils within.
It seemed to him as though suddenly the world was staggering and faltering about him. The trees bent curiously and strange breathings were upon the breezes. He unb.u.t.toned his collar that he might get more air. A thousand things he had forgotten surged suddenly to life. Slower and slower he ran, more and more the thoughts crowded his head. He thought of that first red night and the yelling and singing and wild dancing; he thought of Cresswell"s bitter words; he thought of Zora telling how she stayed out nights; he thought of the little bower that he had built her in the cotton field. A wild fear struggled with his anger, but he kept repeating, "No, no," and then, "At any rate, she will tell me the truth." She had never lied to him; she would not dare; he clenched his hands, murder in his heart.
Slowly and more slowly he ran. He knew where she was--where she must be, waiting. And yet as he drew near huge hands held him back, and heavy weights clogged his feet. His heart said: "On! quick! She will tell the truth, and all will be well." His mind said: "Slow, slow; this is the end." He hurled the thought aside, and crashed through the barrier.
She was standing still and listening, with a huge basket of the piled froth of the field upon her head. One long brown arm, tender with curvings, balanced the cotton; the other, poised, balanced the slim swaying body. Bending she listened, her eyes shining, her lips apart, her bosom fluttering at the well-known step.
He burst into her view with the fury of a beast, rending the wood away and trampling the underbrush, reeling and muttering until he saw her.
She looked at him. Her hands dropped, she stood very still with drawn face, grayish-brown, both hands unconsciously out-stretched, and the cotton swaying, while deep down in her eyes, dimly, slowly, a horror lit and grew. He paused a moment, then came slowly onward doggedly, drunkenly, with torn clothes, flying collar, and red eyes. Then he paused again, still beyond arm"s-length, looking at her with fear-struck eyes. The cotton on her head shivered and dropped in a pure ma.s.s of white and silvery snow about her limbs. Her hands fell limply and the horror flamed in her wet eyes. He struggled with his voice but it grated and came hoa.r.s.e and hard from his quivering throat.
"Zora!"
"Yes, Bles."
"You--you told me--you were--pure."