The Colonel's Dream Page 11

  _Eleven_

  In addition to a pronounced attractiveness of form and feature, MissGraciella Treadwell possessed a fine complexion, a clear eye, and anelastic spirit. She was also well endowed with certain othercharacteristics of youth; among them ingenuousness, which, if it be afault, experience is sure to correct; and impulsiveness, which eventhe school of hard knocks is not always able to eradicate, though itmay chasten. To the good points of Graciella, could be added anuntroubled conscience, at least up to that period when Colonel Frenchdawned upon her horizon, and for some time thereafter. If she had putherself foremost in all her thoughts, it had been the unconsciousegotism of youth, with no definite purpose of self-seeking. The thingsfor which she wished most were associated with distant places, and herlonging for them had never taken the form of envy of those around her.Indeed envy is scarcely a vice of youth; it is a weed that flourishesbest after the flower of hope has begun to wither. Graciella's viewsof life, even her youthful romanticism were sane and healthful; butsince she had not been tried in the furnace of experience, it couldonly be said of her that she belonged to the class, always large, butshifting like the sands of the sea, who have never been tempted, andtherefore do not know whether they would sin or not.

  It was inevitable, with such a nature as Graciella's, in such anembodiment, that the time should come, at some important crisis of herlife, when she must choose between different courses; nor was itlikely that she could avoid what comes sometime to all of us, thenecessity of choosing between good and evil. Her liking for ColonelFrench had grown since their first meeting. He knew so many thingsthat Graciella wished to know, that when he came to the house shespent a great deal of time in conversation with him. Her aunt Laurawas often busy with household duties, and Graciella, as the leastemployed member of the family, was able to devote herself to hisentertainment. Colonel French, a comparatively idle man at thisperiod, found her prattle very amusing.

  It was not unnatural for Graciella to think that this acquaintancemight be of future value; she could scarcely have thought otherwise.If she should ever go to New York, a rich and powerful friend would bewell worth having. Should her going there be delayed very long, shewould nevertheless have a tie of friendship in the great city, and asource to which she might at any time apply for information. Herfondness for Colonel French's society was, however, up to a certaintime, entirely spontaneous, and coloured by no ulterior purpose. Herhope that his friendship might prove valuable was an afterthought.

  It was during this happy period that she was standing, one day, by thegarden gate, when Colonel French passed by in his fine new trap,driving a spirited horse; and it was with perfect candour that shewaved her hand to him familiarly.

  "Would you like a drive?" he called.

  "Wouldn't I?" she replied. "Wait till I tell the folks."

  She was back in a moment, and ran out of the gate and down the steps.The colonel gave her his hand and she sprang up beside him.

  They drove through the cemetery, and into the outlying part of thetown, where there were some shaded woodland stretches. It was apleasant afternoon; cloudy enough to hide the sun. Graciella's eyessparkled and her cheek glowed with pleasure, while her light brownhair blown about her face by the breeze of their rapid motion was likean aureole.

  "Colonel French," she said as they were walking the horse up a hill,"are you going to give a house warming?"

  "Why," he said, "I hadn't thought of it. Ought I to give a housewarming?"

  "You surely ought. Everybody will want to see your house while it isnew and bright. You certainly ought to have a house warming."

  "Very well," said the colonel. "I make it a rule to shirk no plainduty. If I _ought_ to have a house warming, I _will_ have it. And youshall be my social mentor. What sort of a party shall it be?"

  "Why not make it," she said brightly, "just such a party as yourfather would have had. You have the old house, and the old furniture.Give an old-time party."

  * * * * *

  In fitting up his house the colonel had been animated by the samefeeling that had moved him to its purchase. He had endeavoured torestore, as far as possible, the interior as he remembered it in hischildhood. At his father's death the furniture had been sold andscattered. He had been able, through the kindly interest of hisfriends, to recover several of the pieces. Others that were lost pasthope, had been reproduced from their description. Among thoserecovered was a fine pair of brass andirons, and his father'smahogany desk, which had been purchased by Major Treadwell at the saleof the elder French's effects.

  Miss Laura had been the first to speak of the desk.

  "Henry," she had said, "the house would not be complete without yourfather's desk. It was my father's too, but yours is the prior claim.Take it as a gift from me."

  He protested, and would have paid for it liberally, and, when shewould take nothing, declared he would not accept it on such terms.

  "You are selfish, Henry," she replied, with a smile. "You have broughta new interest into our lives, and into the town, and you will not letus make you any return."

  "But I am taking from you something you need," he replied, "and forwhich you paid. When Major Treadwell bought it, it was merelysecond-hand furniture, sold under the hammer. Now it has the value ofan antique--it is a fine piece and could be sold in New York for alarge sum."

  "You must take it for nothing, or not at all," she replied firmly.

  "It is highway robbery," he said, and could not make up his mind toyield.

  Next day, when the colonel went home, after having been down town anhour, he found the desk in his library. The Treadwell ladies hadcorrupted Peter, who had told them when the colonel would be out ofthe house and had brought a cart to take the desk away.

  When the house was finished, the interior was simple but beautiful. Itwas furnished in the style that had been prevalent fifty years before.There were some modern additions in the line of comfort andluxury--soft chairs, fine rugs, and a few choice books andpictures--for the colonel had not attempted to conform his own tastesand habits to those of his father. He had some visitors, mostlygentlemen, and there was, as Graciella knew, a lively curiosity amongthe ladies to see the house and its contents.

  The suggestion of a house warming had come originally from Mrs.Treadwell; but Graciella had promptly made it her own and conveyed itto the colonel.

  * * * * *

  "A bright idea," he replied. "By all means let it be an old-timeparty--say such a party as my father would have given, or mygrandfather. And shall we invite the old people?"

  "Well," replied Graciella judicially, "don't have them so old thatthey can't talk or hear, and must be fed with a spoon. If there weretoo many old, or not enough young people, I shouldn't enjoy myself."

  "I suppose I seem awfully old to you," said the colonel,parenthetically.

  "Oh, I don't know," replied Graciella, giving him a frankly criticallook. "When you first came I thought you _were_ rather old--you see,you are older than Aunt Laura; but you seem to have grownyounger--it's curious, but it's true--and now I hardly think of you asold at all."

  The colonel was secretly flattered. The wisest man over forty likes tobe thought young.

  "Very well," he said, "you shall select the guests."

  "At an old-time party," continued Graciella, thoughtfully, "the guestsshould wear old-time clothes. In grandmother's time the ladies worelong flowing sleeves----"

  "And hoopskirts," said the colonel.

  "And their hair down over their ears."

  "Or in ringlets."

  "Yes, it is all in grandmother's bound volume of _The Ladies' Book_,"said Graciella. "I was reading it only last week."

  "My mother took it," returned the colonel.

  "Then you must have read 'Letters from a Pastry Cook,' by N.P. Williswhen they came out?"

  "No," said the colonel with a sigh, "I missed that. I--I wasn't ableto read then."

  Graciella indulged in a bri
ef mental calculation.

  "Why, of course not," she laughed, "you weren't even born when theycame out! But they're fine; I'll lend you our copy. You must ask allthe girls to dress as their mothers and grandmothers used to dress.Make the requirement elastic, because some of them may not have justthe things for one particular period. I'm all right. We have a cedarchest in the attic, full of old things. Won't I look funny in a hoopskirt?"

  "You'll look charming in anything," said the colonel.

  It was a pleasure to pay Graciella compliments, she so frankly enjoyedthem; and the colonel loved to make others happy. In his New York firmMr. French was always ready to consider a request for an advance ofsalary; Kirby had often been obliged to play the wicked partner inorder to keep expenses down to a normal level. At parties debutanteshad always expected Mr. French to say something pleasant to them, andhad rarely been disappointed.

  The subject of the party was resumed next day at Mrs. Treadwell's,where the colonel went in the afternoon to call.

  "An old-time party," declared the colonel, "should have old-timeamusements. We must have a fiddler, a black fiddler, to playquadrilles and the Virginia Reel."

  "I don't know where you'll find one," said Miss Laura.

  "I'll ask Peter," replied the colonel. "He ought to know."

  Peter was in the yard with Phil.

  "Lawd, Mars Henry!" said Peter, "fiddlers is mighty sca'ce dese days,but I reckon ole 'Poleon Campbell kin make you shake yo' feet yit, efOle Man Rheumatiz ain' ketched holt er 'im too tight."

  "And I will play a minuet on your new piano," said Miss Laura, "andteach the girls beforehand how to dance it. There should be cards forthose who do not dance."

  So the party was arranged. Miss Laura, Graciella and the colonel madeout the list of guests. The invitations were duly sent out for anold-time party, with old-time costumes--any period between 1830 and1860 permissible--and old-time entertainment.

  The announcement created some excitement in social circles, and, likeall of Colonel French's enterprises at that happy period of hishome-coming, brought prosperity in its train. Dressmakers were keptbusy making and altering costumes for the ladies. Old ArchieChristmas, the mulatto tailor, sole survivor of a once flourishingcraft--Mr. Cohen's Universal Emporium supplied the general public withready-made clothing, and, twice a year, the travelling salesman of aNew York tailoring firm visited Clarendon with samples of suitings,and took orders and measurements--old Archie Christmas, who had notmade a full suit of clothes for years, was able, by making andaltering men's garments for the colonel's party, to earn enough tokeep himself alive for another twelve months. Old Peter was atArchie's shop one day, and they were talking about old times--good oldtimes--for to old men old times are always good times, though historymay tell another tale.

  "Yo' boss is a godsen' ter dis town," declared old Archie, "he sho'is. De w'ite folks says de young niggers is triflin' 'cause dey don'larn how to do nothin'. But what is dere fer 'em to do? I kin 'memberwhen dis town was full er black an' yaller carpenters an' 'j'iners,blacksmiths, wagon makers, shoemakers, tinners, saddlers an' cab'netmakers. Now all de fu'nicher, de shoes, de wagons, de buggies, detinware, de hoss shoes, de nails to fasten 'em on wid--yas, an' fo' deLawd! even de clothes dat folks wears on dere backs, is made at deNorf, an' dere ain' nothin' lef' fer de ole niggers ter do, let 'lonede young ones. Yo' boss is de right kin'; I hopes he'll stay 'roun'here till you an' me dies."

  "I hopes wid you," said Peter fervently, "I sho' does! Yas indeed Idoes."

  Peter was entirely sincere. Never in his life had he worn such goodclothes, eaten such good food, or led so easy a life as in thecolonel's service. Even the old times paled by comparison with thisnew golden age; and the long years of poverty and hard luck thatstretched behind him seemed to the old man like a distant andunpleasant dream.

  * * * * *

  The party came off at the appointed time, and was a distinct success.Graciella had made a raid on the cedar chest, and shone resplendent incrinoline, curls, and a patterned muslin. Together with Miss Laura andBen Dudley, who had come in from Mink Run for the party, she was amongthe first to arrive. Miss Laura's costume, which belonged to anearlier date, was in keeping with her quiet dignity. Ben wore a suitof his uncle's, which the care of old Aunt Viney had preservedwonderfully well from moth and dust through the years. The men worestocks and neckcloths, bell-bottomed trousers with straps under theirshoes, and frock coats very full at the top and buttoned tightly atthe waist. Old Peter, in a long blue coat with brass buttons, acted asbutler, helped by a young Negro who did the heavy work. Miss Laura'sservant Catherine had rallied from her usual gloom and begged theprivilege of acting as lady's maid. 'Poleon Campbell, an old-timeNegro fiddler, whom Peter had resurrected from some obscure cabin,oiled his rheumatic joints, tuned his fiddle and rosined his bow, andunder the inspiration of good food and drink and liberal wage, playedthrough his whole repertory, which included such ancient favouritesas, "Fishers' Hornpipe," "Soldiers' Joy," "Chicken in the Bread-tray,"and the "Campbells are Coming." Miss Laura played a minuet, which theyoung people danced. Major McLean danced the highland fling, and someof the ladies sang old-time songs, and war lyrics, which stirred theheart and moistened the eyes.

  Little Phil, in a child's costume of 1840, copied from _The Ladies'Book_, was petted and made much of for several hours, until he becamesleepy and was put to bed.

  "Graciella," said the colonel to his young friend, during the evening,"our party is a great success. It was your idea. When it is all over,I want to make you a present in token of my gratitude. You shallselect it yourself; it shall be whatever you say."

  Graciella was very much elated at this mark of the colonel'sfriendship. She did not dream of declining the proffered token, andduring the next dance her mind was busily occupied with the questionof what it should be--a ring, a bracelet, a bicycle, a set of books?She needed a dozen things, and would have liked to possess a dozenothers.

  She had not yet decided, when Ben came up to claim her for a dance. Onhis appearance, she was struck by a sudden idea. Colonel French was aman of affairs. In New York he must have a wide circle of influentialacquaintances. Old Mr. Dudley was in failing health; he might die atany time, and Ben would then be free to seek employment away fromClarendon. What better place for him than New York? With a positionthere, he would be able to marry her, and take her there to live.

  This, she decided, should be her request of the colonel--that heshould help her lover to a place in New York.

  Her conclusion was really magnanimous. She might profit by it in theend, but Ben would be the first beneficiary. It was an act ofself-denial, for she was giving up a definite and certain good for afuture contingency.

  She was therefore in a pleasant glow of self-congratulatory mood whenshe accidentally overheard a conversation not intended for her ears.She had run out to the dining-room to speak to the housekeeper aboutthe refreshments, and was returning through the hall, when she stoppedfor a moment to look into the library, where those who did not care todance were playing cards.

  Beyond the door, with their backs turned toward her, sat two ladiesengaged in conversation. One was a widow, a well-known gossip, and theother a wife known to be unhappily married. They were no longer young,and their views were marked by the cynicism of seasoned experience.

  "Oh, there's no doubt about it," said the widow. "He came down here tofind a wife. He tried a Yankee wife, and didn't like the breed; andwhen he was ready for number two, he came back South."

  "He showed good taste," said the other.

  "That depends," said the widow, "upon whom he chooses. He can probablyhave his pick."

  "No doubt," rejoined the married lady, with a touch of sarcasm, whichthe widow, who was still under forty, chose to ignore.

  "I wonder which is it?" said the widow. "I suppose it's Laura; hespends a great deal of time there, and she's devoted to his littleboy, or pretends to be."

  "Don't fool yourself," replied t
he other earnestly, and not without asubdued pleasure in disabusing the widow's mind. "Don't fool yourself,my dear. A man of his age doesn't marry a woman of Laura Treadwell's.Believe me, it's the little one."

  "But she has a beau. There's that tall nephew of old Mr. Dudley's.He's been hanging around her for a year or two. He looks very handsometo-night."

  "Ah, well, she'll dispose of him fast enough when the time comes. He'sonly a poor stick, the last of a good stock run to seed. Why, she'sbeen pointedly setting her cap at the colonel all the evening. He'sperfectly infatuated; he has danced with her three times to once withLaura."

  "It's sad to see a man make a fool of himself," sighed the widow, whowas not without some remnants of beauty and a heart still warm andwilling. "Children are very forward nowadays."

  "There's no fool like an old fool, my dear," replied the other withthe cheerful philosophy of the miserable who love company. "These fairwomen are always selfish and calculating; and she's a bold piece. Myhusband says Colonel French is worth at least a million. A young wife,who understands her business, could get anything from him that moneycan buy."

  "What a pity, my dear," said the widow, with a spice of malice, seeingher own opportunity, "what a pity that you were older than yourhusband! Well, it will be fortunate for the child if she marries anold man, for beauty of her type fades early."

  Old 'Poleon's fiddle, to which one of the guests was improvising anaccompaniment on the colonel's new piano, had struck up "CamptownRaces," and the rollicking lilt of the chorus was resounding throughthe house.

  _"Gwine ter run all night, Gwine ter run all day, I'll bet my money on de bobtail nag, Oh, who's gwine ter bet on de bay?"_

  Ben ran out into the hall. Graciella had changed her position and wassitting alone, perturbed in mind.

  "Come on, Graciella, let's get into the Virginia reel; it's the lastone."

  Graciella obeyed mechanically. Ben, on the contrary, was unusuallyanimated. He had enjoyed the party better than any he had everattended. He had not been at many.

  Colonel French, who had entered with zest into the spirit of theoccasion, participated in the reel. Every time Graciella touched hishand, it was with the consciousness of a new element in theirrelations. Until then her friendship for Colonel French had beenperfectly ingenuous. She had liked him because he was interesting, andgood to her in a friendly way. Now she realised that he was amillionaire, eligible for marriage, from whom a young wife, if sheunderstood her business, might secure the gratification of every wish.

  The serpent had entered Eden. Graciella had been tendered the apple.She must choose now whether she would eat.

  When the party broke up, the colonel was congratulated on every hand.He had not only given his guests a delightful evening. He had restoredan ancient landmark; had recalled, to a people whose life lay mostlyin the past, the glory of days gone by, and proved his loyalty totheir cherished traditions.

  Ben Dudley walked home with Graciella. Miss Laura went ahead of themwith Catherine, who was cheerful in the possession of a substantialreward for her services.

  "You're not sayin' much to-night," said Ben to his sweetheart, as theywalked along under the trees.

  Graciella did not respond.

  "You're not sayin' much to-night," he repeated.

  "Yes," returned Graciella abstractedly, "it was a lovely party!"

  Ben said no more. The house warming had also given him food forthought. He had noticed the colonel's attentions to Graciella, and hadheard them remarked upon. Colonel French was more than old enough tobe Graciella's father; but he was rich. Graciella was poor andambitious. Ben's only assets were youth and hope, and priority in thefield his only claim.

  Miss Laura and Catherine had gone in, and when the young people cameto the gate, the light still shone through the open door.

  "Graciella," he said, taking her hand in his as they stood a moment,"will you marry me?"

  "Still harping on the same old string," she said, withdrawing herhand. "I'm tired now, Ben, too tired to talk foolishness."

  "Very well, I'll save it for next time. Good night, sweetheart."

  She had closed the gate between them. He leaned over it to kiss her,but she evaded his caress and ran lightly up the steps.

  "Good night, Ben," she called.

  "Good night, sweetheart," he replied, with a pang of foreboding.

  In after years, when the colonel looked back upon his residence inClarendon, this seemed to him the golden moment. There were othertimes that stirred deeper emotions--the lust of battle, the joy ofvictory, the chagrin of defeat--moments that tried his soul with testsalmost too hard. But, thus far, his new career in Clarendon had beenone of pleasant experiences only, and this unclouded hour was itsfitting crown.