The House Behind the Cedars/XXX
XXX
AN UNUSUAL HONOR
To Rena's high-strung and sensitive nature,
already under very great tension from her past
experience, the ordeal of the next few days was a
severe one. On the one hand, Jeff Wain's infatuation
had rapidly increased, in view of her speedy
departure. From Mrs. Tryon's remark about
Wain's wife Amanda, and from things Rena had
since learned, she had every reason to believe that
this wife was living, and that Wain must be aware
of the fact. In the light of this knowledge, Wain's
former conduct took on a blacker significance than,
upon reflection, she had charitably clothed it with
after the first flush of indignation. That he had
not given up his design to make love to her was
quite apparent, and, with Amanda alive, his attentions,
always offensive since she had gathered their
import, became in her eyes the expression of a
villainous purpose, of which she could not speak to
others, and from which she felt safe only so long
as she took proper precautions against it. In a
week her school would be over, and then she would
get Elder Johnson, or some one else than Wain,
to take her back to Patesville. True, she might
abandon her school and go at once; but her work
would be incomplete, she would have violated her
contract, she would lose her salary for the month,
explanations would be necessary, and would not be
forthcoming. She might feign sickness,--indeed,
it would scarcely be feigning, for she felt far from
well; she had never, since her illness, quite
recovered her former vigor--but the inconvenience
to others would be the same, and her self-sacrifice
would have had, at its very first trial, a lame and
impotent conclusion. She had as yet no fear of
personal violence from Wain; but, under the
circumstances, his attentions were an insult. He was
evidently bent upon conquest, and vain enough to
think he might achieve it by virtue of his personal
attractions. If he could have understood
how she loathed the sight of his narrow eyes, with
their puffy lids, his thick, tobacco-stained lips, his
doubtful teeth, and his unwieldy person, Wain,
a monument of conceit that he was, might have
shrunk, even in his own estimation, to something
like his real proportions. Rena believed that, to
defend herself from persecution at his hands, it
was only necessary that she never let him find her
alone. This, however, required constant watchfulness.
Relying upon his own powers, and upon
a woman's weakness and aversion to scandal, from
which not even the purest may always escape
unscathed, and convinced by her former silence
that he had nothing serious to fear, Wain made it
a point to be present at every public place where
she might be. He assumed, in conversation with
her which she could not avoid, and stated to
others, that she had left his house because of a
previous promise to divide the time of her stay
between Elder Johnson's house and his own. He
volunteered to teach a class in the Sunday-school
which Rena conducted at the colored Methodist
church, and when she remained to service, occupied
a seat conspicuously near her own. In addition
to these public demonstrations, which it was
impossible to escape, or, it seemed, with so thick-
skinned an individual as Wain, even to discourage,
she was secretly and uncomfortably conscious that
she could scarcely stir abroad without the risk of
encountering one of two men, each of whom was
on the lookout for an opportunity to find her
alone.
The knowledge of Tryon's presence in the
vicinity had been almost as much as Rena could
bear. To it must be added the consciousness that
he, too, was pursuing her, to what end she could
not tell. After his letter to her brother, and the
feeling therein displayed, she found it necessary to
crush once or twice a wild hope that, her secret
being still unknown save to a friendly few, he might
return and claim her. Now, such an outcome
would be impossible. He had become engaged to
another woman,--this in itself would be enough
to keep him from her, if it were not an index of
a vastly more serious barrier, a proof that he had
never loved her. If he had loved her truly, he
would never have forgotten her in three short
months,--three long months they had heretofore
seemed to her, for in them she had lived a lifetime
of experience. Another impassable barrier lay in
the fact that his mother had met her, and that she
was known in the neighborhood. Thus cut off
from any hope that she might be anything to
him, she had no wish to meet her former lover;
no possible good could come of such a meeting;
and yet her fluttering heart told her that if he
should come, as his letter foreshadowed that he
might,--if he should come, the loving George of
old, with soft words and tender smiles and specious
talk of friendship--ah! then, her heart
would break! She must not meet him--at any
cost she must avoid him.
But this heaping up of cares strained her
endurance to the breaking-point. Toward the middle of
the last week, she knew that she had almost reached
the limit, and was haunted by a fear that she
might break down before the week was over. Now
her really fine nature rose to the emergency, though
she mustered her forces with a great effort. If she
could keep Wain at his distance and avoid Tryon
for three days longer, her school labors would be
ended and she might retire in peace and honor.
"Miss Rena," said Plato to her on Tuesday,
"ain't it 'bout time I wuz gwine home wid you
ag'in?"
"You may go with me to-morrow, Plato,"
answered the teacher.
After school Plato met an anxious eyed young
man in the woods a short distance from the schoolhouse.
"Well, Plato, what news?"
"I's gwine ter see her home ter-morrer, Mars
Geo'ge."
"To-morrow!" replied Tryon; "how very
fortunate! I wanted you to go to town to-morrow
to take an important message for me. I'm sorry,
Plato--you might have earned another dollar."
To lie is a disgraceful thing, and yet there are
times when, to a lover's mind, love dwarfs all
ordinary laws. Plato scratched his head
disconsolately, but suddenly a bright thought struck him.
"Can't I go ter town fer you atter I've seed her
home, Mars Geo'ge?"
"N-o, I'm afraid it would be too late," returned Tryon
doubtfully.
"Den I'll haf ter ax 'er ter lemme go nex' day,"
said Plato, with resignation. The honor might be
postponed or, if necessary, foregone; the opportunity
to earn a dollar was the chance of a lifetime
and must not be allowed to slip.
"No, Plato," rejoined Tryon, shaking his head,
"I shouldn't want to deprive you of so great a
pleasure." Tryon was entirely sincere in this
characterization of Plato's chance; he would have
given many a dollar to be sure of Plato's place and
Plato's welcome. Rena's letter had re-inflamed his
smouldering passion; only opposition was needed
to fan it to a white heat. Wherein lay the great
superiority of his position, if he was denied the
right to speak to the one person in the world whom
he most cared to address? He felt some dim
realization of the tyranny of caste, when he found
it not merely pressing upon an inferior people who
had no right to expect anything better, but barring
his own way to something that he desired. He
meant her no harm--but he must see her. He
could never marry her now--but he must see her.
He was conscious of a certain relief at the thought
that he had not asked Blanche Leary to be his
wife. His hand was unpledged. He could not
marry the other girl, of course, but they must meet
again. The rest he would leave to Fate, which
seemed reluctant to disentangle threads which it
had woven so closely.
"I think, Plato, that I see an easier way out of
the difficulty. Your teacher, I imagine, merely
wants some one to see her safely home. Don't
you think, if you should go part of the way, that
I might take your place for the rest, while you did
my errand?"
"Why, sho'ly, Mars Geo'ge, you could take keer
er her better 'n I could--better 'n anybody could
--co'se you could!"
Mars Geo'ge was white and rich, and could do
anything. Plato was proud of the fact that he
had once belonged to Mars Geo'ge. He could
not conceive of any one so powerful as Mars
Geo'ge, unless it might be God, of whom Plato
had heard more or less, and even here the
comparison might not be quite fair to Mars Geo'ge,
for Mars Geo'ge was the younger of the two. It
would undoubtedly be a great honor for the teacher
to be escorted home by Mars Geo'ge. The teacher
was a great woman, no doubt, and looked white;
but Mars Geo'ge was the real article. Mars
Geo'ge had never been known to go with a black
woman before, and the teacher would doubtless
thank Plato for arranging that so great an honor
should fall upon her. Mars Geo'ge had given him
fifty cents twice, and would now give him a dollar.
Noble Mars Geo'ge! Fortunate teacher! Happy
Plato!
"Very well, Plato. I think we can arrange it
so that you can kill the two rabbits at one shot.
Suppose that we go over the road that she will
take to go home."
They soon arrived at the schoolhouse. School
had been out an hour, and the clearing was
deserted. Plato led the way by the road through
the woods to a point where, amid somewhat thick
underbrush, another path intersected the road they
were following.
"Now, Plato," said Tryon, pausing here, "this
would be a good spot for you to leave the teacher
and for me to take your place. This path leads
to the main road, and will take you to town very
quickly. I shouldn't say anything to the teacher
about it at all; but when you and she get here,
drop behind and run along this path until you
meet me,--I'll be waiting a few yards down the
road,--and then run to town as fast as your legs
will carry you. As soon as you are gone, I'll
come out and tell the teacher that I've sent you
away on an errand, and will myself take your
place. You shall have a dollar, and I'll ask her
to let you go home with her the next day. But
you mustn't say a word about it, Plato, or you
won't get the dollar, and I'll not ask the teacher
to let you go home with her again."
"All right, Mars Geo'ge, I ain't gwine ter say
no mo' d'n ef de cat had my tongue."