The House Behind the Cedars/XXVI
XXVI
THE SCHOOLHOUSE IN THE WOODS
Blanche Leary, closely observant of Tryon's
moods, marked a decided change in his manner
after his return from his trip to Patesville. His
former moroseness had given way to a certain
defiant lightness, broken now and then by an
involuntary sigh, but maintained so well, on the
whole, that his mother detected no lapses whatever.
The change was characterized by another feature
agreeable to both the women: Tryon showed
decidedly more interest than ever before in Miss
Leary's society. Within a week he asked her
several times to play a selection on the piano,
displaying, as she noticed, a decided preference for
gay and cheerful music, and several times suggesting
a change when she chose pieces of a sentimental
cast. More than once, during the second week
after his return, he went out riding with her; she
was a graceful horsewoman, perfectly at home in
the saddle, and appearing to advantage in a riding-
habit. She was aware that Tryon watched her now
and then, with an eye rather critical than indulgent.
"He is comparing me with some other girl,"
she surmised. "I seem to stand the test very well.
I wonder who the other is, and what was the
trouble?"
Miss Leary exerted all her powers to interest
and amuse the man she had set out to win, and
who seemed nearer than ever before. Tryon, to
his pleased surprise, discovered in her mind depths
that he had never suspected. She displayed a
singular affinity for the tastes that were his--he
could not, of course, know how carefully she had
studied them. The old wound, recently reopened,
seemed to be healing rapidly, under conditions
more conducive than before to perfect recovery.
No longer, indeed, was he pursued by the picture
of Rena discovered and unmasked--this he had
definitely banished from the realm of sentiment to
that of reason. The haunting image of Rena loving
and beloved, amid the harmonious surroundings
of her brother's home, was not so readily displaced.
Nevertheless, he reached in several weeks a point
from which he could consider her as one thinks of
a dear one removed by the hand of death, or smitten
by some incurable ailment of mind or body.
Erelong, he fondly believed, the recovery would
be so far complete that he could consign to the
tomb of pleasant memories even the most thrilling
episodes of his ill-starred courtship.
"George," said Mrs. Tryon one morning while
her son was in this cheerful mood, "I'm sending
Blanche over to Major McLeod's to do an errand
for me. Would you mind driving her over? The
road may be rough after the storm last night, and
Blanche has an idea that no one drives so well as
you."
"Why, yes, mother, I'll be glad to drive Blanche
over. I want to see the major myself."
They were soon bowling along between the pines,
behind the handsome mare that had carried Tryon
so well at the Clarence tournament. Presently he
drew up sharply.
"A tree has fallen squarely across the road," he
exclaimed. "We shall have to turn back a little
way and go around."
They drove back a quarter of a mile and turned
into a by-road leading to the right through the
woods. The solemn silence of the pine forest is
soothing or oppressive, according to one's mood.
Beneath the cool arcade of the tall, overarching
trees a deep peace stole over Tryon's heart. He
had put aside indefinitely and forever an unhappy
and impossible love. The pretty and affectionate
girl beside him would make an ideal wife. Of
her family and blood he was sure. She was his
mother's choice, and his mother had set her heart
upon their marriage. Why not speak to her now,
and thus give himself the best possible protection
against stray flames of love?
"Blanche," he said, looking at her kindly.
"Yes, George?" Her voice was very gentle,
and slightly tremulous. Could she have divined
his thought? Love is a great clairvoyant.
"Blanche, dear, I"--
A clatter of voices broke upon the stillness of
the forest and interrupted Tryon's speech. A
sudden turn to the left brought the buggy to a
little clearing, in the midst of which stood a small
log schoolhouse. Out of the schoolhouse a swarm
of colored children were emerging, the suppressed
energy of the school hour finding vent in vocal
exercise of various sorts. A group had already
formed a ring, and were singing with great volume
and vigor:--
"Miss Jane, she loves sugar an' tea,
Miss Jane, she loves candy.
Miss Jane, she can whirl all around
An' kiss her love quite handy.
"De oak grows tall,
De pine grows slim,
So rise you up, my true love,
An' let me come in."
"What a funny little darkey!" exclaimed Miss
Leary, pointing to a diminutive lad who was walking
on his hands, with his feet balanced in the air.
At sight of the buggy and its occupants this sable
acrobat, still retaining his inverted position, moved
toward the newcomers, and, reversing himself with
a sudden spring, brought up standing beside the
buggy.
"Hoddy, Mars Geo'ge!" he exclaimed, bobbing
his head and kicking his heel out behind in
approved plantation style.
"Hello, Plato," replied the young man, "what
are you doing here?"
"Gwine ter school, Mars Geo'ge," replied the
lad; "larnin' ter read an' write, suh, lack de w'ite
folks."
"Wat you callin' dat w'ite man marster fur?"
whispered a tall yellow boy to the acrobat addressed
as Plato. "You don' b'long ter him no mo'; you're
free, an' ain' got sense ernuff ter know it."
Tryon threw a small coin to Plato, and holding
another in his hand suggestively, smiled toward the
tall yellow boy, who looked regretfully at the coin,
but stood his ground; he would call no man master,
not even for a piece of money.
During this little colloquy, Miss Leary had kept
her face turned toward the schoolhouse.
"What a pretty girl!" she exclaimed. "There,"
she added, as Tryon turned his head toward her,
"you are too late. She has retired into her castle.
Oh, Plato!"
"Yas, missis," replied Plato, who was prancing
round the buggy in great glee, on the strength of
his acquaintance with the white folks.
"Is your teacher white?"
"No, ma'm, she ain't w'ite; she's black. She
looks lack she's w'ite, but she's black."
Tryon had not seen the teacher's face, but the
incident had jarred the old wound; Miss Leary's
description of the teacher, together with Plato's
characterization, had stirred lightly sleeping
memories. He was more or less abstracted during the
remainder of the drive, and did not recur to the
conversation that had been interrupted by coming
upon the schoolhouse.
The teacher, glancing for a moment through the
open door of the schoolhouse, had seen a handsome
young lady staring at her,--Miss Leary had
a curiously intent look when she was interested in
anything, with no intention whatever to be rude,--
and beyond the lady the back and shoulder of a
man, whose face was turned the other way. There
was a vague suggestion of something familiar about
the equipage, but Rena shrank from this close
scrutiny and withdrew out of sight before she had
had an opportunity to identify the vague resemblance
to something she had known.
Miss Leary had missed by a hair's-breadth the
psychological moment, and felt some resentment
toward the little negroes who had interrupted her
lover's train of thought. Negroes have caused a
great deal of trouble among white people. How
deeply the shadow of the Ethiopian had fallen
upon her own happiness, Miss Leary of course
could not guess.