CALEB TRENCH
CALEB TRENCH
CALEB TRENCHI
CALEB TRENCH
DIANA ROYALL pushed back the music-rack and rose from her seat at the piano.
“Show the person in here, Kingdom.�
The negro disappeared, and Diana moved slowly to the table at the farther end of the long room, and stood there turning over some papers in her leisurely, graceful way.
“Who in the world is it now?� Mrs. Eaton asked, looking up from her solitaire, “a book agent?�
“Caleb Trench,� Diana replied carelessly, “the shopkeeper at Eshcol.�
“The storekeeper?� Mrs. Eaton looked as if Diana had said the chimney-sweep. “What in the world does he want of you, my dear?�
Diana laughed. “How should I know?� she retorted, with a slight scornful elevation of her brows; “we always pay cash there.�
“I wonder that you receive him in the drawing-room,� Mrs. Eaton remonstrated, shuffling her cards with delicate, much be-ringed fingers, and that indefinable manner which lingers with some old ladies, like their fine old lace and their ancestors, and is atonce a definition and classification. Thus, one could see, at a glance, that Mrs. Eaton had been a belle before the war, for, as we all know, the atmosphere of belledom is as difficult to dissipate and forget as the poignant aroma of a moth-ball in an old fur coat, though neither of them may have served the purposes of preservation.
The girl made no reply, and the older woman was instinctively aware of her indifference to her opinions, uttered or unexpressed. There were times when Diana’s absorption of mood, her frank inattention, affected her worldly mentor as sharply as a slap in the face, yet, the next moment, she fell easily under the spell of her personality. Mrs. Eaton always felt that no one could look at her youthful relative without feeling that her soul must be as beautiful as her body, though she herself had never been able to form any estimate of that soul. Diana hid it with a reserve and a mental strength which folded it away as carefully as the calyx of a cactus guards the delicate bloom with its thorns. But the fact that Mrs. Eaton overlooked was still more apparent, the fact that a great many people never thought of Diana’s soul at all, being quite content to admire the long and exquisite curves of her tall figure, the poise of her graceful head, with the upward wave of its bright hair, and the level glance of her dear eyes under their thick dark lashes. There was something fine about her vitality, her freshness, the perfection of her dress and her bearing, which seemed so harmoniously accentuatedby the subdued elegance of the charming old room. Nature had specialized her by the divine touch of a beauty that apparently proclaimed the possession of an equally beautiful spirit; not even the flesh and blood surface seemed always impenetrable, but rather delicately transparent to every spiritual variation, like the crystal sphere of the magician. But Mrs. Eaton, pondering on her young cousin’s personality from a more frivolous standpoint, took alarm most readily at her independence, and was overcome now with the impropriety of receiving a village shopkeeper in the drawing-room after dinner.
“My dear,� she remonstrated again, “hadn’t you better speak to him in the hall?�
Diana looked up from her paper, slightly bored. “In that case, Cousin Jinny, you couldn’t hear what he said,� she remarked composedly.
Mrs. Eaton reddened and put a three spot on her ace instead of a two. “I do not care to—� she began and paused, her utterance abruptly suspended by the shock of a new perception.
For, at that moment, Kingdom-Come announced Diana’s unbidden guest and Mrs. Eaton forgot what she was going to say, forgot her manners in fact, and gazed frankly at the big man who came slowly and awkwardly into the room. His appearance, indeed, had quite a singular effect upon her. She wondered vaguely if she could be impressed, or if it was only the result of the unexpected contact with the lowerclass? She was fond of speaking of the Third Estate; she had found the expression somewhere during her historical peckings, and appropriated it at once as a comprehensive phrase with an aristocratic flavor, though its true meaning proved a little elusive.
Meanwhile, the unwelcome visitor was confronting Miss Royall and there was a moment of audible silence. Diana met his glance more fully than she had ever been aware of doing before, in her brief visits to his shop, and, like her elderly cousin, she received a new and vital impression, chiefly from the depth and lucidity of his gaze, which seemed to possess both composure and penetration; she felt her cheeks flush hotly, yet was conscious that his look was neither familiar nor offending, but was rather the glance of a personality as strong as her own.
“You wish to speak to me?� she said impatiently, forgetting the fine courtesy that she usually showed to an inferior.
As she spoke, her father and Jacob Eaton came in from the dining-room and, pausing within the wide low doorway, were silent spectators of the scene.
“I wished to see you, yes,� said Trench quietly, advancing to the table and deliberately putting some pennies on it. “When you bought that piece of muslin this morning I gave you the wrong change. After you left the shop I found I owed you six cents. I walked over with it this evening as soon as I closed the doors. I would have left it with your servant atthe door, but he insisted that I must see you in person.� He added this gravely, deliberately allowing her to perceive that he understood his reception.
Diana bit her lip to suppress a smile, and was conscious that Jacob Eaton was openly hilarious. She was half angry, too, because Trench had put her in the wrong by recognizing her discourtesy and treating it courteously. Beyond the circle of the lamplight was the critical audience of her home-life, her father’s stately figure and white head, Mrs. Eaton’s elderly elegance, and Jacob’s worldly wisdom. She looked at Trench with growing coldness.
“Thank you,� she said, “shall I give you a receipt?�
He met her eye an instant, and she saw that he was fully cognizant of her sarcasm. “As you please,� he replied unmoved.
She felt herself rebuked again, and her anger kindled unreasonably against the man who was smarting under her treatment. She went to the table, and taking a sheet of folded note-paper wrote a receipt and signed it, handing it to him with a slight haughty inclination of the head which was at once an acknowledgment and a dismissal.
But again he met her with composure. He took the paper, folded it twice and put it in his pocketbook, then he bade her good evening and, passing Eaton with scarcely a glance, bowed to Colonel Royall and went out, his awkward figure in its rough tweed suit having made a singular effect in the old-fashionedelegance of Colonel Royall’s house, an effect that fretted Diana’s pride, for it had seemed to her that, as he passed, he had overshadowed her own father and dwarfed Jacob Eaton. Yet, at the time, she thought of none of these things. She pushed the offending pennies across the table.
“Cousin Jinny,� she said carelessly, “there are some Peter pence for your dago beggars.�
Cousin Jinny gathered up the pennies and dropped them thoughtfully into the little gold-linked purse on her chatelaine. For years she had been contributing a yearly subsidy to the ever increasing family of a former gondolier, the unforgotten grace of whose slender legs had haunted her memory for twenty years, during which period she had been the recipient of annual announcements of twins and triplets, whose arrivals invariably punctuated peculiarly unremunerative years.
“That man,� she said, referring to Trench and not the gondolier, “that man is an anarchist.�
Mrs. Eaton had a settled conviction that all undesirable persons were anarchists. To her nebulous vision innumerable immigrant ships were continually unloading anarchists in bulk, as merchantmen might unship consignments of Sea Island cotton or Jamaica rum; and every fresh appearance of the social unwashed was to her an advent of an atom from these incendiary cargoes.
“I hope you were careful about your receipt, Diana,� said Jacob Eaton, stopping to light a cigaretteat the tall candelabrum on the piano. “How far did your admirer walk to bring that consignment of pennies?�
“My admirer?� Diana shot a scornful glance at him. “I call it an intrusion.�
“Did he walk over from that little shop at Cross-Roads?� Mrs. Eaton asked. “I seem to remember a shop there.�
“It’s seven miles,� said Colonel Royall, speaking for the first time, “and the roads are bad. I think he is merely scrupulously honest, Diana,� he added; “I was watching his face.�
Diana flushed under her father’s eye. “I suppose he is,� she said reluctantly, “but, pshaw—six cents! He could have handed it to a servant.�
“Do you send the servants there?� Colonel Royall asked pointedly.
“No,� she admitted reluctantly, “I suppose he rarely sees any one from here, but there was Kingdom at the door.�
“Who insisted on his seeing you, you remember,� objected her father; “the soul of Kingdom-Come is above six pennies.�
“Well, so is mine!� exclaimed Diana pettishly.
“Seven miles in red clay mud to see you,� mocked Jacob Eaton, smiling at her.
“Nonsense!� she retorted.
“I don’t see why you take that tone, Jacob,� warned his mother a little nervously. “I call it bad taste; he couldn’t presume to—to—�
“To walk seven miles?� her son laughed “My dear lady, I’d walk seventeen to see Diana.�
“My dear courtier, throw down your cloak in the mud and let me walk upon it,� retorted Diana scornfully.
“I have thrown down, instead, my heart,� he replied in a swift undertone.
But Diana was watching her father and apparently did not hear him. Colonel Royall had moved to his usual big chair by the hearth. A few logs were kindling there, for, though it was early in April, it was a raw chill evening. The firelight played on the noble and gentle lines of the colonel’s old face, on his white hair and moustache and in the mild sweetness of his absent-minded eyes. His daughter, looking at him fondly, thought him peculiarly sad, and wondered if it was because they were approaching an anniversary in that brief sad married life which seemed to have left a scar too deep for even her tender touch.
“I don’t mind about the amount—six cents may be as sacred to him as six dollars,� he was saying. “The man has a primitive face, the lines are quite remarkable, and—� he leaned back and looked over at the young man by the piano—“Jacob, I’ve heard of this Caleb Trench three times this week in politics.�
“A village orator?� mocked Eaton, without dropping his air of nonchalant superiority, an air that nettled Colonel Royall as much as a heat-rash.
He shook his head impatiently. “Ask Mahan,� he said. “I don’t know, but twice I’ve been told thatCaleb Trench could answer this or that, and yesterday—� he leaned back, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked into the fire—“yesterday—what was it? Oh—� he stopped abruptly, and a delicate color, almost a woman’s blush, went up to his hair.
“And yesterday?� asked Eaton, suddenly alert, his mocking tone lost, the latent shrewdness revealing itself through the thin mask of his commonplace good looks.
“Well, I heard that he was opposed to Aylett’s methods,� Colonel Royall said, with evident reluctance, “and that he favored Yarnall.�
Mrs. Eaton started violently and dropped her pack of cards, and Diana and she began to gather them up again, Cousin Jinny’s fingers trembling so much that the girl had to find them all.
Jacob stood listening, his eyelids drooping over his eyes and his upper lip twitching a little at the corners like a dog who is puckering his lip to show his fangs. “Yarnall is a candidate for governor,� he said coolly.
Colonel Royall frowned slightly. “I’d rather keep Aylett,� he rejoined.
“Yarnall had no strength a week ago, but to-day the back counties are supporting him,� said Eaton, “why, heaven knows! Some one must be organizing them, but who?�
Colonel Royall drummed on the arm of his chair with his fingers. “Since the war there’s been an upheaval,� he said thoughtfully. “It was like a whirlpool, stirred the mud up from the bottom, and we’regetting it now. No one can predict anything; it isn’t the day for an old-fashioned gentleman in politics.�
“Which is an admission that shopkeepers ought to be in them,� suggested Jacob, without emotion.
Colonel Royall laughed. “Maybe it is,� he admitted, “anyway I’m not proud of my own party out here. I’m willing to stand by my colors, but I’m usually heartily ashamed of the color bearer. It’s not so much the color of one’s political coat as the lining of one’s political pockets. I wish I had Abe Lincoln’s simple faith. What we need now is a man who isn’t afraid to speak the truth; he’d loom up like Saul among the prophets.�
“Again let me suggest the shopkeeper at the Cross-Roads,� said Jacob Eaton.
Colonel Royall smiled sadly. “Why not?� he said. “Lincoln was a barefoot boy. Why not Caleb Trench? Since he’s honest over little things, he might be over great things.�
“Is he a Democrat?� Jacob asked suavely.
“On my word, I don’t know,� replied Colonel Royall. “He’s in Judge Hollis’ office reading law, so William Cheyney told me.�
“That old busybody!� Jacob struck the ashes from his cigarette viciously.
“Hush!� said Diana, “treason! Don’t you say a word against Dr. Cheyney. I’ve loved him these many years.�
“A safe sentiment,� said Jacob. “I’m content to be his rival. Alas, if he were the only one!�
“What did you say Caleb Trench was doing in the judge’s office, pa?� Diana asked, ignoring her cousin.
“Reading law, my dear,� the colonel answered.
“I thought he was a poor shopkeeper,� objected Mrs. Eaton.
“So he is, Jinny,� said the colonel; “but he’s reading law at night. It’s all mightily to his credit.�
“He’s altogether too clever, then,� said Mrs. Eaton firmly; “it is just as I said, he’s an anarchist!�
“Dear me, let’s talk of some one else,� Diana protested. “The man must have hoodooed us; we’ve discussed nothing else since he left.�
“Though lost to sight, to memory dear,� laughed Jacob, throwing back his sleek dark head, and blowing his cigarette smoke into rings before his face: he was still leaning against the piano, and his attitude displayed his well-knit, rather slight figure. His mother, gazing at him with an admiration not unlike the devotion the heathen extends to his favorite deity, regarded him as a supreme expression of the best in manhood and wisdom. To her Jacob was little short of a divinity and nothing short of a tyrant, under whose despotic rule she had trembled since he was first able to express himself in the cryptic language of the cradle, which had meant with him an unqualified and unrestrained shriek for everything he wanted. She thought he showed to peculiar advantage, too, in the setting of the old room with its two centers of light, the lamp on the table and the fire on the hearth, with the well-worn Turkey rugs, its darkly polishedfloor, the rare pieces of Chippendale, and the equally rare old paintings on the walls. There was a fine, richly toned portrait of Colonel Royall’s grandfather, who had been with Washington at Yorktown, and there was a Corot and a Van Dyke, originals that had cost the colonel’s father a small fortune in his time. Best of all, perhaps, was the Greuze, for there was something in the shadowy beauty of the head which suggested Diana.
Colonel Royall himself had apparently forgotten Jacob and his attitude. The old man was gazing absently into the fire, and the latent tenderness in his expression, the fine droop of eyes and lips seemed to suggest some deeper current of thought which the light talk stirred and brought to the surface. There was a reminiscent sadness in his glance which ignored the present and warned his daughter of the shoals. She leaned forward and held her hands out to the blaze.
“If it’s fine next week, I’m going up to Angel Pass to see if the anemones are not all in bloom,� she said abruptly.
Colonel Royall rose, and walking to the window, drew aside the heavy curtains and looked out. “The night is superb,� he said. “Come here, Di, and see Orion’s golden sword. If it is like this, we will go to-morrow.�
But Diana, going to him, laid a gentle hand on his arm. “To-morrow was mother’s birthday, pa,� she said softly.
Mrs. Eaton looked up and caught her son’s eye, and turned her face carefully from the two in the bay window. “Think of it,� she murmured, with a look of horrified disapproval, “think of keeping Letty’s birthday here!�
But Jacob, glancing at Diana’s unconscious back, signed to her to be silent.