CHAPTER XV
Hugh and Clara were married in less than a week after their first walktogether. A chain of circumstances touching their two lives hurled theminto marriage, and the opportunity for the intimacy with a woman forwhich Hugh so longed came to him with a swiftness that made him fairlydizzy.
It was a Wednesday evening and cloudy. After dining in silence with hislandlady, Hugh started along Turner's Pike toward Bidwell, but when hehad got almost into town, turned back. He had left the house intendingto go through town to the Medina Road and to the woman who now occupiedso large a place in his thoughts, but hadn't the courage. Every eveningfor almost a week he had taken the walk, and every evening and at almostthe same spot he turned back. He was disgusted and angry with himselfand went to his shop, walking in the middle of the road and kicking upclouds of dust. People passed along the path under the trees at the sideof the road and turned to stare at him. A workingman with a fat wife,who puffed as she walked at his side, turned to look and then began toscold. "I tell you what, old woman, I shouldn't have married and hadkids," he grumbled. "Look at me, then look at that fellow. He goes alongthere thinking big thoughts that will make him richer and richer. I haveto work for two dollars a day, and pretty soon I'll be old and thrown onthe scrap-heap. I might have been a rich inventor like him had I givenmyself a chance."
The workman went on his way, grumbling at his wife who paid no attentionto his words. Her breath was needed for the labor of walking, and as forthe matter of marriage, that had been attended to. She saw no reason forwasting words over the matter. Hugh went to the shop and stood leaningagainst the door frame. Two or three workmen were busy near the backdoor and had lighted gas lamps that hung over the work benches. They didnot see Hugh, and their voices ran through the empty building. One ofthem, an old man with a bald head, entertained his fellows by givingan imitation of Steve Hunter. He lighted a cigar and putting on his hattipped it a little to one side. Puffing out his chest he marched up anddown talking of money. "Here's a ten-dollar cigar," he said, handing along stogie to one of the other workmen. "I buy them by the thousands togive away. I'm interested in uplifting the lives of workmen in my hometown. That's what takes all my attention."
The other workmen laughed and the little man continued to prance upand down and talk, but Hugh did not hear him. He stared moodily at thepeople going along the road toward town. Darkness was coming but hecould still see dim figures striding along. Over at the foundry back ofthe corn-cutting machine plant the night shift was pouring off, and asudden glare of light played across the heavy smoke cloud that layover the town. The bells of the churches began to call people to theWednesday evening prayer-meetings. Some enterprising citizen had begunto build workmen's houses in a field beyond Hugh's shop and these wereoccupied by Italian laborers. A crowd of them came past. What would someday be a tenement district was growing in a field beside a cabbage patchbelonging to Ezra French who had said God would not permit men to changethe field of their labors.
An Italian passed under a lamp near the Wheeling station. He worea bright red handkerchief about his neck and was clad in a brightlycolored shirt. Like the other people of Bidwell, Hugh did not like tosee foreigners about. He did not understand them and when he saw themgoing about the streets in groups, was a little afraid. It was a man'sduty, he thought, to look as much as possible like all his fellow men,to lose himself in the crowds, and these fellows did not look like othermen. They loved color, and as they talked they made rapid gestures withtheir hands. The Italian in the road was with a woman of his own race,and in the growing darkness put his arm about her shoulder. Hugh's heartbegan to beat rapidly and he forgot his American prejudices. He wishedhe were a workman and that Clara were a workman's daughter. Then, hethought, he might find courage to go to her. His imagination, quickenedby the flame of desire and running in new channels, made it possible forhim, at the moment to see himself in the young Italian's place, walkingin the road with Clara. She was clad in a calico dress and her softbrown eyes looked at him full of love and understanding.
The three workingmen had completed the job for which they had come backto work after the evening meal, and now turned out the lights and cametoward the front of the shop. Hugh drew back from the door and concealedhimself by standing in the heavy shadows by the wall. So realistic werehis thoughts of Clara that he did not want them intruded upon.
The workmen went out of the shop door and stood talking. The bald-headedman was telling a tale to which the others listened eagerly. "It's allover town," he said. "From what I hear every one say it isn't the firsttime she's been in such a mess. Old Tom Butterworth claimed he sent heraway to school three years ago, but now they say that isn't the truth.What they say is that she was in the family way to one of her father'sfarm hands and had to get out of town." The man laughed. "Lord, if ClaraButterworth was my daughter she'd be in a nice fix, wouldn't she, eh?"he said, laughing. "As it is, she's all right. She's gone now and gotherself mixed up with this swindler Buckley, but her father's money willmake it all right. If she's going to have a kid, no one'll know. Maybeshe's already had the kid. They say she's a regular one for the men."
As the man talked Hugh came to the door and stood in the darknesslistening. For a time the words would not penetrate his consciousness,and then he remembered what Clara had said. She had said something aboutAlfred Buckley and that there would be a story connecting her name withhis. She had been hot and angry and had declared the story a lie. Hughdid not know what the story was about, but it was evident there was astory abroad, a scandalous story concerning her and Alfred Buckley. Ahot, impersonal anger took possession of him. "She's in trouble--here'smy chance," he thought. His tall figure straightened and as he steppedthrough the shop door his head struck sharply against the door frame,but he did not feel the blow that at another time might have knocked himdown. During his whole life he had never struck any one with his fists,and had never felt a desire to do so, but now hunger to strike and evento kill took complete possession of him. With a cry of rage his fistshot out and the old man who had done the talking was knocked senselessinto a clump of weeds that grew near the door. Hugh whirled and strucka second man who fell through the open doorway into the shop. The thirdman ran away into the darkness along Turner's Pike.
Hugh walked rapidly to town and through Main Street. He saw TomButterworth walking in the street with Steve Hunter, but turned a cornerto avoid a meeting. "My chance has come," he kept saying to himselfas he hurried along Medina Road. "Clara's in some kind of trouble. Mychance has come."
By the time he got to the door of the Butterworth house, Hugh'snew-found courage had almost left him, but before it had quite gone heraised his hand and knocked on the door. By good fortune Clara came toopen it. Hugh took off his hat and turned it awkwardly in his hands."I came out here to ask you to marry me," he said. "I want you to be mywife. Will you do it?"
Clara stepped out of the house and closed the door. A whirl of thoughtsran through her brain. For a moment she felt like laughing, and thenwhat there was in her of her father's shrewdness came to her rescue."Why shouldn't I do it?" she thought. "Here's my chance. This man isexcited and upset now, but he is a man I can respect. It's the bestmarriage I'll ever have a chance to make. I do not love him, but perhapsthat will come. This may be the way marriages are made."
Clara put out her hand and laid it on Hugh's arm. "Well," she said,hesitatingly, "you wait here a moment."
She went into the house and left Hugh standing in the darkness. He wasterribly afraid. It seemed to him that every secret desire of hislife had got itself suddenly and bluntly expressed. He felt naked andashamed. "If she comes out and says she'll marry me, what will I do?What'll I do then?" he asked himself.
When she did come out Clara wore her hat and a long coat. "Come," shesaid, and led him around the house and through the barnyard to one ofthe barns. She went into a dark stall and led forth a horse and withHugh's help pulled a buggy out of a shed into the barnyard. "If we'regoing to do it there's no
use putting it off," she said with a tremblingvoice. "We might as well go to the county seat and do it at once."
The horse was hitched and Clara got into the buggy. Hugh climbed in andsat beside her. She had started to drive out of the barnyard when JimPriest stepped suddenly out of the darkness and took hold of the horse'shead. Clara held the buggy whip in her hand and raised it to hit thehorse. A desperate determination that nothing should interfere with hermarriage with Hugh had taken possession of her. "If necessary I'llride the man down," she thought. Jim came to stand beside the buggy.He looked past Clara at Hugh. "I thought maybe it was that Buckley," hesaid. He put a hand on the buggy dash and laid the other on Clara's arm."You're a woman now, Clara, and I guess you know what you're doing. Iguess you know I'm your friend," he said slowly. "You been in trouble,I know. I couldn't help hearing what your father said to you aboutBuckley, he talked so loud. Clara, I don't want to see you get intotrouble."
The farm hand stepped away from the buggy and then came back and againput his hand on Clara's arm. The silence that lay over the barnyardlasted until the woman felt she could speak without a break in hervoice.
"I'm not going very far, Jim," she said, laughing nervously. "This isMr. Hugh McVey and we're going over to the county seat to get married.We'll be back home before midnight. You put a candle in the window forus."
Hitting the horse a sharp blow, Clara drove quickly past the house andinto the road. She turned south into the hill country through which laythe road to the county seat. As the horse trotted quickly along, thevoice of Jim Priest called to her out of the darkness of the barnyard,but she did not stop. The afternoon and evening had been cloudy and thenight was dark. She was glad of that. As the horse went swiftly alongshe turned to look at Hugh who sat up very stiffly on the buggy seat andstared straight ahead. The long horse-like face of the Missourianwith its huge nose and deeply furrowed cheeks was ennobled by the softdarkness, and a tender feeling crept over her. When he had asked herto become his wife, Clara had pounced like a wild animal abroad seekingprey and the thing in her that was like her father, hard, shrewd andquick-witted, had led her to decide to see the thing through at once.Now she became ashamed, and her tender mood took the hardness andshrewdness away. "This man and I have a thousand things we should sayto each other before we rush into marriage," she thought, and was halfinclined to turn the horse and drive back. She wondered if Hugh had alsoheard the stories connecting her name with that of Buckley, the storiesshe was sure were now running from lip to lip through the streets ofBidwell, and what version of the tale had been carried to him. "Perhapshe came to propose marriage in order to protect me," she thought, anddecided that if he had come for that reason she was taking an unfairadvantage. "It is what Kate Chanceller would call 'doing the man adirty, low-down trick,'" she told herself; but even as the thought cameshe leaned forward and touching the horse with the whip urged him evenmore swiftly along the road.
A mile south of the Butterworth farmhouse the road to the county seatcrossed the crest of a hill, the highest point in the county, and fromthe road there was a magnificent view of the country lying to the south.The sky had begun to clear, and as they reached the point known asLookout Hill, the moon broke through a tangle of clouds. Clara stoppedthe horse and turned to look down the hillside. Below lay the lights ofher father's farmhouse--where he had come as a young man and to whichlong ago he had brought his bride. Far below the farmhouse a clusteredmass of lights outlined the swiftly growing town. The determinationthat had carried Clara thus far wavered again and a lump came into herthroat.
Hugh also turned to look but did not see the dark beauty of the countrywearing its night jewels of lights. The woman he wanted so passionatelyand of whom he was so afraid had her face turned from him, and he daredto look at her. He saw the sharp curve of her breasts and in the dimlight her cheeks seemed to glow with beauty. An odd notion came to him.In the uncertain light her face seemed to move independent of her body.It drew near him and then drew away. Once he thought the dimly seenwhite cheek would touch his own. He waited breathless. A flame of desireran through his body.
Hugh's mind flew back through the years to his boyhood and youngmanhood. In the river town when he was a boy the raftsmen and hangers-onof the town's saloons, who had sometimes come to spend an afternoon onthe river banks with his father John McVey, often spoke of women andmarriage. As they lay on the burned grass in the warm sunlight theytalked and the boy who lay half asleep nearby listened. The voices cameto him as though out of the clouds or up out of the lazy waters of thegreat river and the talk of women awoke his boyhood lusts. One of themen, a tall young fellow with a mustache and with dark rings under hiseyes, told in a lazy, drawling voice the tale of an adventure had witha woman one night when a raft on which he was employed had tied up nearthe city of St. Louis, and Hugh listened enviously. As he told the talethe young man a little awoke from his stupor, and when he laughed theother men lying about laughed with him. "I got the best of her afterall," he boasted. "After it was all over we went into a little room atthe back of a saloon. I watched my chance and when she went to sleepsitting in a chair I took eight dollars out of her stocking."
That night in the buggy beside Clara, Hugh thought of himself lyingby the river bank on the summer days. Dreams had come to him there,sometimes gigantic dreams; but there had also come ugly thoughts anddesires. By his father's shack there was always the sharp rancid smellof decaying fish and swarms of flies filled the air. Out in the cleanOhio country, in the hills south of Bidwell, it seemed to him that thesmell of decaying fish came back, that it was in his clothes, that ithad in some way worked its way into his nature. He put up his handand swept it across his face, an unconscious return of the perpetualmovement of brushing flies away from his face as he lay half asleep bythe river.
Little lustful thoughts kept coming to Hugh and made him ashamed. Hemoved restlessly in the buggy seat and a lump came into his throat.Again he looked at Clara. "I'm a poor white," he thought. "It isn'tfitten I should marry this woman."
From the high spot in the road Clara looked down at her father's houseand below at the lights of the town, that had already spread so far overthe countryside, and up through the hills toward the farm where she hadspent her girlhood and where, as Jim Priest had said, "the sap hadbegun to run up the tree." She began to love the man who was to beher husband, but like the dreamers of the town, saw him as somethinga little inhuman, as a man almost gigantic in his bigness. Many thingsKate Chanceller had said as the two developing women walked and talkedin the streets of Columbus came back to her mind. When they had startedagain along the road she continually worried the horse by tapping himwith the whip. Like Kate, Clara wanted to be fair and square. "A womanshould be fair and square, even with a man," Kate had said. "The man I'mgoing to have as a husband is simple and honest," she thought. "Ifthere are things down there in town that are not square and fair, hehad nothing to do with them." Realizing a little Hugh's difficultyin expressing what he must feel, she wanted to help him, but when sheturned and saw how he did not look at her but continually stared intothe darkness, pride kept her silent. "I'll have to wait until he'sready. Already I've taken things too much into my own hands. I'll putthrough this marriage, but when it comes to anything else he'll have tobegin," she told herself, and a lump came into her throat and tears toher eyes.