CHAPTER XIII.
SHADOW OF THE TILE.
As Vesta and her father stepped over the sill of Teackle Hall, it seemedvery dear, yet somewhat dread to them, being reclaimed again, but at thepenalty of a new member of the family and he an intruder. To the libraryVesta and her father went, and he threw some wood upon the low fire, andlighted the lamp and candles; then turning, he took his daughter in hisarms and sobbed bitterly, repeating over the words: "What shall I do! Owhat shall I do!" She also yielded to the luxury of grief, but wasspeechless till he said:
"My darling, I have dreamed of your wedding-day many a time, but it wasnot like this. Music and joy, free-heartedness, a handsome, youthfulbridegroom, our whole connection gathered here from the army and navy,from South, West, and North, and all happy except poor Daniel Custis,about to lose his child!"
"Your child is not to go," Vesta whispered; "is not that a comfort?"
"I do not know. Is it my pure, poor child? Had I seen you waste withconsumption, day by day, like a dying lilac-tree, with its clustersfewer every year till it deadened to the root, I could have wept inheavenly sympathy, and learned from you the way I have not walked. But,in your flower to be a forester's plucking, stripped from my stem andtrodden in the sand, your pride reduced, your tastes unheeded, yourheart dragged into the wigwam of a savage and made to consult hismaudlin will---- Oh, what shall I do!"
"I do not fear my husband like that," Vesta said, opening his arms. "Mymind, I think, he will rather raise to serious things, for which I havesome desire, though, I fear, no talent. Papa, something tells me thatthis old life we have led, easy and happy, comfortable and independent,is passing away. Our family race must learn the new lessons of the ageif we would not see it retired and obscure. Is that not so?"
"I fear it is God's truth, my darling. The life we have led is only aremnant of colonial, or, rather, of provincial dignity, to which thenature of this republican government is hostile. Tobacco, which was onceour money, is disappearing from this shore, and wheat and corn we cannotgrow like the rich young West, which is pouring them out through thecanal the late Governor Clinton lived to open. Money is becoming a thingand not merely a name, and it captures every other thing--land,distinction, talent, family, even beauty and purity. The man you marriedunderstands the art of money and we do not."
"Then are we not impostors, papa, if we assume to be so much better thanour real superiors? Surely we must persevere in those things the agedemands, and excel in them, to sustain our pride."
"Yes, if the breed is gamecock it will accept any challenge, not onlywar and politics, but mechanics, shop-keeping, cattle-herding,anything!"
"Papa, if you can see these things that are to be, so clearly, why canyou not take the wise steps to plant your family on the safe side?"
"Ah! we Virginians were always the best statesmen, but we died poor.Having no manual craft, slight bookkeeping, and unlimited capacity foroffice, we foresaw everything but the humiliation of ourselves, and thatwe hardly admitted when it had come, so much were we flattered by ourphilosophic intellects. Our newest amusement is to expound theconstitution to them who are doing too well under it, although ourfathers, who made it, like Jefferson and Madison, died only yesterday,overwhelmed with debts, and poor Mr. Monroe is run away to New York,they say, to dodge the Virginia bailiffs."
"Well, papa, I have saved you from that fear. Here are your notes to Mr.Milburn and others. Sit down and look them over carefully and see ifthey are all here!"
He took them up, with volatile relief laughing on his yet tear-markedface, and said:
"We'll burn them, Vessy."
"Nay, sir, not till you have seen them all. A single note missing wouldgive you the same perplexity, and there is no daughter left to settleit."
He looked at her with a smile, yet annoyance.
"You are not going to make a Meshach Milburn of me?"
"Stop, sir!" Vesta said. "You might do worse than learn from myhusband."
Something strange in her expression baffled the Judge.
"Ha!" he interjected, "have I a rival already, daughter? Is his conquestas complete as that?"
"I promised to honor him a few moments ago, and I believe I can, papa.All that you tell me adds to my respect for a man who seems to be onlywhat he is."
"Perhaps you can love him, too?" the Judge said, watching her with anapprehension a little like wonder, a little like jealousy.
"Oh, I wish I could, papa! That also I promised to do, and I will try.But my work will all be a failure if you do not become reconciled to Mr.Milburn. It was for you I married him, and to save your name, yourpeace, your independence, and the upbraiding we expected from mamma atthe loss of her dower. He is now your son-in-law, still in the prime oflife, with the business training you lament that you do not possess.Begin this moment, papa, and learn his habits. Count and identify thosenotes!"
Judge Custis looked them over separately, ran the number of notes he hadgiven over in his mind, and said:
"Yes, he has made fair restitution. There are none missing."
"Restitution implies that he has robbed you, papa. A just man did notspeak there! Every penny in those debts is stamped with Mr. Milburn'sinjuries and coined by his sacrifices. Have you spent his moneyremembering that?"
"No, my child, I suppose not."
"Give me the notes, papa."
She took them and sat thinking a few moments silently.
"If I were a man, papa," she said at length, "I would try to learnbusiness sense. It must be so respectable to live with one's mind ableto help one's security and one's friends, and prepare for age orsickness while strong and healthy. Now, I think I will not let you burnthese notes till you have paid the price of them! Please write atransfer of this house, servants, and your manor to me, Vesta----yes,Vesta Milburn!"
She blushed as she spoke for the first time her new-worn name.
"Alas!" sighed her father, "Vesta Custis no more. I begin to feel it.Well, Mrs. Milburn--I will give you the title--for what must I make overthese old properties to you?"
"In consideration of my repayment of the sum of my mother's estate toyou for her, for which you have given her no security whatever. It isnot provided for by these notes. I have only Mr. Meshach Milburn'spromise that he will pay her this money, risked and lost by you, father,I fear very heedlessly. Is it restitution, also, for Mr. Milburn tostrip himself to pay your debts to mother?"
"No," said the Judge, guiltily, "that he pays on account of his passionfor you. He may cheat you there."
"I do not believe it, because he has been faithful to me so many yearsbefore I knew he loved me. A man who keeps himself pure for a woman hehas no vows to, will pay her father's debts of honor when he haspromised."
Judge Custis found the issue quite too warm for his convenience, andblushing as much as Vesta, he sat down and drew up a conveyance of hisproperty to Vesta Milburn, in her own right, and in consideration oftwenty-five thousand dollars, paid to Mrs. Lucy Custis on account ofjudgment confessed to her by Daniel Custis.
"There, my dear," he said, passing it over, "what do you want with it?Are you not sure of a home here as long as you live, even with me as theproprietor?"
"No. The tragedy nearly finished here may be repeated, papa, and all ofus be homeless if you can go in debt again. I shall not do that--noteven for my husband, and here will stand Teackle Hall to protect youall from the cold if bad times ever come again."
"You have paid a greater price for it, my child, than it is worth, andyou are entitled to it."
"Besides, dear father, if Mr. Milburn needs any reminder of his promiseto repay mamma's dowry, this will give it. He intended his gift to be mymarriage dower, and were I to convey it to you I should first ask hisconsent; not in law, perhaps, but in delicacy."
"Oh, yes," the Judge said carelessly, "I am glad you have such goodreasons. Yet, my beautiful, my last child,--pride of my race! I hate tosee you so ready for this business--this calculation and foresight. Itis not like the Cust
ises. I fear this man, Milburn, in a single day hasthrown his net around your nature, and annexed you to his sordidexistence. At this moment the redeeming thing about you is that youcannot love him."
"Dear father, thoughts like that beset me, too--the pride ofaristocracy, the remembrance of what has been; but I want to be honestand not to cheat my heart or any person. We have fallen from our height;he has raised himself from his condition; and there is no deception inmy conduct. He knows I do not love him. Instead of standing upon anobdurate heart, I pray God to melt my nature and mould it to hisaffection!"
Regarding her a moment with increasing interest, Judge Custis cameforward and kissed her forehead.
"Amen, then!" he said. "May you love your husband! I will do all I canto love him, too."
"That is spoken like a true man," Vesta said. "And now, father,good-night! Be ready here for Mr. Milburn's arrival. Ring for a decanterand some cake. It will not hurt you, after your fast, to drink a glassof sherry with the bridegroom."
He kissed her and felt her trembling in his arms. As she started to go,she returned and clung to him again. Her face was pale with fear.
"Oh, dreadful God!" he muttered, "to visit my many sins upon thisspotless angel! Where shall I fly?"
A step was upon the porch, and Vesta flashed up the stairway.
Judge Custis went to his door apprehensive and in tears. A strange manstood there, with his eye bruised and blood dripping down to his coarse,rope-like beard. He was in liquor, but so pale that it was apparent bythe starlight.
"Good-evening," said the man; "you don't know me, Judge Custis? Nomatter, I'm Joe Johnson."
The Judge, whose tears had taken him far from things of trivial memory,looked at the man and repeated "_Joe_ Johnson. Not Joe Johnson ofDorchester?"
"Yes, Judge, Joe Johnson, the slave-dealer. I've bought many a niggerfrom a Custis when it was impolite to sell 'em, Judge, so they let merun' em off, and cussed me for it to the public. An' that's made meonpopular, Judge Custis, and that's my fix to-night."
"You have been fighting, Johnson, I think," said the Judge, withsuppressed dislike.
"I've been knocked down by a nigger," said the man, with a glare offerocity, removing his hand from the wounded eye, as if it inflamed hisrecollection of the blow to see the drops of blood drip from his beardto the porch. "This town is too nice to abide a dealer in theconstitutional article, and so they set on me, when I was a littlejingle-brained with lush, an' while the nigger klemmed me in the peep, alittle white villain with a steeple bonnet hit me in the bread-bag witha stone. I've come yer, Judge, to lie up in the kitchen, an' sleep warmover Sunday, for the cops threaten to take me, if they catch me beforemidnight."
"I suppose you know, Johnson, that I am a magistrate, and the properharborage I give to breakers of the peace is the jail."
"I'm not afraid of that limbo, Judge Custis, when I come to you. OldPatty Cannon has done you many a good turn with Joe Johnson's gang aboutelection times in the upper destreeks of Somerset. Patty always saidJudge Custis was a game gentleman that returned a favor."
The Judge's countenance, an instant blank, lighted up with all avote-getter's smile, and he said:
"Joe, you're a terrible fellow, but dear old Aunt Patty did always takemy part! I suspect, Joe, that you have run afoul of Samson, the hiredman of Meshach Milburn, who is a boxer, though I wonder that he couldget away with your youth and size. Of course, I won't let you come toharm. You haven't been playing your tricks on anybody's negroes, Joe?"
"No, upon my word, Judge! You see, I took a load of Egypt down theNanticoke to Norfolk, and shipped 'em to Orleens. Says I: 'I'll go backEastern Shore way, and see if there's any niggers to git.' So I trampedit from Somers's Cove to Princess Anne, an' sluiced my gob at Kingstonand the Trappe till I felt noddy with the booze, and lay down in thechurchyard to snooze it off. Bein' awaked before my nod was out, I feltevil an' chiveyish, and the tavern blokes, an' the nigger, an' thefeller with the steeple shap, all clecked me at once."
"Well, Joe, for Aunt Patty's sake, I'll take care of you. Go to thekitchen door, and I'll step through the house and tell our Aunt Hominyto give you supper and breakfast, and a place to get some sleep. But youmust keep out of the way, and slip off quietly on Sunday, for we havehad a wedding in the family to-day, Joe, and though I cannot understandyour peculiar slang, I suspect the bridegroom to be the man who knockedthe breath out of you with the stone."
The stranger lifted his hand from his bloody eye again, and counted thered drops splashing down from his beard. Judge Custis marked his scowl.
"Tut, tut!" said the Judge, "you will never get your revenge out of thatman. He is too strong. I don't wonder that he disabled you, and don'tyou ever get into his clutches, Joe; for if he knows you are here, Ishall be forced to send you to jail this very night. Keep out of thehands of Meshach Milburn! He has knocked the breath out of you, Mr.Johnson, but there are some whose hearts he has twisted out of theirbodies."
"I'll meet him somewhere," Joe Johnson muttered, "but not in PrincessAnne;" and he pulled down his slouched hat to cover his eyes, andstalked away to find the kitchen.
"Oh, what a day can bring forth," Judge Custis thought, raising hishands to the October stars: "Meshach of the ominous hat the host in myparlor: Joe Johnson, the son-in-law of Patty Cannon, the guest of mykitchen!"