IX
The Reason Why.
Sampson, the young colored boy who had lighted Fanny's fire on thefirst day of her arrival at Place-du-Bois, and who had made suchinsinuating advances of friendliness towards her, had continued toattract her notice and good will. He it was who lighted her fires onsuch mornings as they were needed. For there had been no winter. Inmid-January, the grass was fresh and green; trees and plants wereputting forth tender shoots, as if in welcome to spring; roses wereblossoming, and it was a veritable atmosphere of Havana rather than ofcentral Louisiana that the dwellers at Place-du-Bois were enjoying.But finally winter made tardy assertion of its rights. One morningbroke raw and black with an icy rain falling, and young Sampsonarriving in the early bleakness to attend to his duties at thecottage, presented a picture of human distress to move the mosthardened to pity. Though dressed comfortably in the clothing withwhich Fanny had apparelled him--he was ashen. Save for the chatteringof his teeth, his body seemed possessed of a paralytic inability tomove. He knelt before the empty fire-place as he had done on thatfirst day, and with deep sighs and groans went about his work. Then heremained long before the warmth that he had kindled; even lying fulllength upon the soft rug, to bask in the generous heat that permeatedand seemed to thaw his stiffened limbs.
Next, he went quietly into the bedroom to attend to the fire there.Hosmer and Fanny were still sleeping. He approached a decorated basketthat hung against the wall; a receptacle for old newspapers and oddsand ends. He drew something from his rather capacious coat pocket,and, satisfying himself that Hosmer slept, thrust it in the bottom ofthe basket, well covered by the nondescript accumulation that wasthere.
The house was very warm and cheerful when they arose, and afterbreakfasting Hosmer felt unusually reluctant to quit his fire-side andface the inclement day; for an unaccustomed fatigue hung upon hislimbs and his body was sore, as from the effect of bruises. But hewent, nevertheless, well encased in protective rubber; and as heturned away from the house, Fanny hastened to the hanging basket, andfumbling nervously in its depths, found what the complaisant Sampsonhad left for her.
The cold rain had gradually changed into a fine mist, that indescending, spread an icy coat upon every object that it touched. WhenHosmer returned at noon, he did not leave the house again.
During the afternoon Therese knocked at Fanny's door. She wasenveloped in a long hooded cloak, her face glowing from contact withthe sharp moist air, and myriad crystal drops clinging to her fluffyblonde hair that looked very golden under the dark hood that coveredit. She wanted to learn how Fanny accepted this unpleasant change ofatmospheric conditions, intending to bear her company for theremainder of the day if she found her depressed, as was often thecase.
"Why, I didn't know you were home," she said, a little startled, toHosmer who opened the door to her. "I came over to show Mrs. Hosmersomething pretty that I don't suppose she ever saw before." It was abranch from a rose-tree, bearing two open blossoms and a multitude ofbuds, creamy pink, all encased in an icy transparency that gleamedlike diamonds. "Isn't it exquisite?" she said, holding the spray upfor Fanny's admiration. But she saw at a glance that the spirit ofDisorder had descended and settled upon the Hosmer household.
The usually neat room was in a sad state of confusion. Some of thepictures had been taken from the walls, and were leaning here andthere against chairs and tables. The mantel ornaments had been removedand deposited at random and in groups about the room. On the hearthwas a pail of water in which swam a huge sponge; and Fanny sat besidethe center-table that was piled with her husband's wearing apparel,holding in her lap a coat which she had evidently been passing underinspection. Her hair had escaped from its fastenings; her collar washooked awry; her face was flushed and her whole bearing indicated hercondition.
Hosmer took the frozen spray from Therese's hand, and spoke a littleabout the beauty of the trees, especially the young cedars that he hadpassed out in the hills on his way home.
"It's all well and good to talk about flowers and things, Mrs.Laferm--sit down please--but when a person's got the job that I've goton my hands, she's something else to think about. And David heresmoking one cigar after another. He knows all I've got to do, and goesand sends those darkies home right after dinner."
Therese was so shocked that for a while she could say nothing; tillfor Hosmer's sake she made a quick effort to appear at ease.
"What have you to do, Mrs. Hosmer? Let me help you, I can give you thewhole afternoon," she said with an appearance of being ready for anything that was at hand to be done.
Fanny turned the coat over in her lap, and looked down helplessly at astain on the collar, that she had been endeavoring to remove; at thesame time pushing aside with patient repetition the wisp of hair thatkept falling over her cheek.
"Belle Worthington'll be here before we know it; her and her husbandand that Lucilla of hers. David knows how Belle Worthington is, justas well as I do; there's no use saying he don't. If she was to see aspeck of dirt in this house or on David's clothes, or anything, whywe'd never hear the last of it. I got a letter from her," shecontinued, letting the coat fall to the floor, whilst she endeavoredto find her pocket.
"Is she coming to visit you?" asked Therese who had taken up a featherbrush, and was dusting and replacing the various ornaments that werescattered through the room.
"She's going down to Muddy Graw (Mardi-Gras) her and her husband andLucilla and she's going to stop here a while. I had that letter--Iguess I must of left it in the other room."
"Never mind," Therese hastened to say, seeing that her whole energieswere centered on finding the letter.
"Let me look," said Hosmer, making a movement towards the bedroomdoor, but Fanny had arisen and holding out a hand to detain him shewent into the room herself, saying she knew where she'd left it.
"Is this the reason you've kept yourself shut up here in the house sooften?" Therese asked of Hosmer, drawing near him. "Never telling me aword of it," she went on, "it wasn't right; it wasn't kind."
"Why should I have put any extra burden on you?" he answered, lookingdown at her, and feeling a joy in her presence there, that seemed likea guilty indulgence in face of his domestic shame.
"Don't stay," Therese said. "Leave me here. Go to your office or overto the house--leave me alone with her."
Fanny returned, having found the letter, and spoke with increasedvehemence of the necessity of having the house in perfect trim againstthe arrival of Belle Worthington, from whom they would never hear thelast, and so forth.
"Well, your husband is going out, and that will give us a chance toget things righted," said Therese encouragingly. "You know men arealways in the way at such times."
"It's what he ought to done before; and left Suze and Minervy here,"she replied with grudging acquiescence.
After repeated visits to the bedroom, under various pretexts, Fannygrew utterly incapable to do more than sit and gaze stupidly atTherese, who busied herself in bringing the confusion of thesitting-room into some order.
She continued to talk disjointedly of Belle Worthington and her wellknown tyrannical characteristics in regard to cleanliness; finishingby weeping mildly at the prospect of her own inability to ever reachthe high standard required by her exacting friend.
It was far in the afternoon--verging upon night, when Theresesucceeded in persuading her that she was ill and should go to bed. Shegladly seized upon the suggestion of illness; assuring Therese thatshe alone had guessed her affliction: that whatever was thoughtsingular in her behavior must be explained by that sickness which waspast being guessed at--then she went to bed.
It was late when Hosmer left his office; a rough temporary shanty, puttogether near the ruined mill.
He started out slowly on his long cold ride. His physical malaise ofthe morning had augmented as the day went on, and he was beginning toadmit to himself that he was "in for it."
But the cheerless ride was lightened by a picture that had been withhim through the afternoon,
and that moved him in his whole being, asthe moment approached when it might be changed to reality. He knewFanny's habits; knew that she would be sleeping now. Therese would notleave her there alone in the house--of that he was sure. And hepictured Therese at this moment seated at his fire-side. He would findher there when he entered. His heart beat tumultuously at the thought.It was a very weak moment with him, possibly, one in which hisunnerved condition stood for some account. But he felt that when hesaw her there, waiting for him, he would cast himself at her feet andkiss them. He would crush her white hands against his bosom. He wouldbury his face in her silken hair. She should know how strong his lovewas, and he would hold her in his arms till she yield back tendernessto his own. But--Therese met him on the steps. As he was mountingthem, she was descending; wrapped in her long cloak, her pretty headcovered by the dark hood.
"Oh, are you going?" he asked.
She heard the note of entreaty in his voice.
"Yes," she answered, "I shouldn't have left her before you came; but Iknew you were here; I heard your horse's tread a moment ago. She'sasleep. Good night. Take courage and have a brave heart," she said,pressing his hand a moment in both hers, and was gone.
The room was as he had pictured it; order restored and the fireblazing brightly. On the table was a pot of hot tea and a temptinglittle supper laid. But he pushed it all aside and buried his facedown upon the table into his folded arms, groaning aloud. Physicalsuffering; thwarted love, and at the same time a feeling ofself-condemnation, made him wish that life were ended for him.
Fanny awoke close upon morning, not knowing what had aroused her. Shewas for a little while all bewildered and unable to collect herself.She soon learned the cause of her disturbance. Hosmer was tossingabout and his outstretched arm lay across her face, where it hadevidently been flung with some violence. She took his hand to move itaway, and it burned her like a coal of fire. As she touched him hestarted and began to talk incoherently. He evidently fancied himselfdictating a letter to some insurance company, in no pleased terms--ofwhich Fanny caught but snatches. Then:
"That's too much, Mrs. Lafirme; too much--too much--Don't let Gregoireburn--take him from the fire, some one. Thirty day's credit--shipmentmade on tenth," he rambled on at intervals in his troubled sleep.
Fanny trembled with apprehension as she heard him. Surely he has brainfever she thought, and she laid her hand gently on his burningforehead. He covered it with his own, muttering "Therese, Therese--sogood--let me love you."