THE DREAM.
"I sat on a bare twig, far from the ground, feeling safer at that giddy height than nearer earth, preening pinions, polishing beak and uttering the while a plaintive little chatter.
"There was a whirry buzz from above, a breeze of swift motion, a tremor of my perch, and beside me sat a gorgeous little knight, dressed even more brilliantly than I.
"His general body armor was of shining golden green, duller and giving gradual place to an opaque black underneath. He wore a crown of metallic violet and gorget of emerald green; his tail feathers were a brassy sheeny green and upon his breast and near his eyes were a few feathers of snowy white, as though he had been caught for a second in a snow storm.
"As he moved in the sunlight those colors shifted and changed until, if I had not been restrained by modesty, in ecstasy I must have cried;—'What a gorgeous being you are!' and he, doubtless reading my thoughts and more than pleased that I liked his appearance, moved yet closer and whispered words of love to me.
"From our perch we looked out upon the land, the foothill country. It was loved and kissed by the sun. The scent of fragrant blossoms filled the air and the fields were dotted with vari-colored flowers. Far above to the north was a mountain range, the highest peaks of which were covered with snow, and far below to the south was a lazy tropic river hemmed to the water's edge by forests of dense shade. There we never ventured though sometimes when the sun was hottest we flew to the very edge of the snow fields and sipped the most delicious nectar from the white wax-like flowers that grew on their moist border.
"It was a life of freedom and movement. Not a moment of inactive discontent; to dart with the speed of an arrow but pursue as variant a course as fancy dictated; from twig top to field, feeding upon honeyed nectar and small insects which also loved the flowers and fed upon their sweets. Not perching in sluggish dumbness at the place of feeding but hovering in a fragrant flowery world over the red or white or blue corolla cloth of anever changing dinner service, leading all the while a life of intense movement, to pass as a bar of light, to stop and rest and as suddenly depart.
"There is a flash of green, red and purplish light, as the iridescence of the purest gem. Was it the airplane of a fairy passing by that gave forth all those gorgeous hues, or had an angel in passing from heaven to earth dropped a jewel from his crown? I saw no wings in motion, but I have grown to know and love the sound I heard; 'tis Sir Knight returning from one of his excursions.
"He alights, and preening his feathers a second, the while humming a little love ditty comes very close and whispers; 'Love, will you be mine?' And the answer is so low that nothing but a humming bird may hear.
"So we leave the twig and skimming over field and rill come into a land of flowers; and many of them are such flowers as I had just gathered.
"No longer alone, we mingle with the bees and butterflies and many insects and others of our kind, all intent upon a breakfast of honey dew freshly garnered and served each morning; and such a service! The very air is alive with the gathering; our ears are deafened by the whistling sounds of flight, from a plaintiff treble to a resonant bass, mingled with cries of joy and greeting and quarrelsome chatter. It is the chit-chat of the insect world.
"My mate on vibrant invisible wing is immovably suspended in a near vertical position over a large bell white corolla, while I feast from a platter with a scarlet border and a golden center.
"Ye men who would learn to fly, take the humming bird for instructor; and be taught that the most powerfulflight is not given to breadth of wing but to swiftness of motion or vibration; and in watching Sir Knight poised above a flower you may solve the mystery of a suspended flight.
"Finally we fix upon the place to build the nest, on a limb overhanging the eddying pool of a mountain torrent, just above the foam and spray of a waterfall.
"Equally careful search is made for material. The foundation is made of moss plastered into a mass and saddled on a limb. Then it is lined with white vegetable lint or down.
"I now lead a more sedate life as becomes one assuming the responsibilities of rearing a family; and, a believer in a small and well-groomed family, lay but two snow-white eggs.
"While I am busy on the nest, Sir Knight pugnaciously guards bride and home and, having much leisure, becomes an exterior decorator of the nest, dressing it in a becoming coat of gray lichens.
"A small hawk lights in the treetop; he is scarcely settled before our guard makes swift and vicious charge at his head and eyes with needle-like beak. The hawk in trepidation soars away, pursued for many a yard, too slow to strike back effectively.
"When the little fellows are old enough to make trips alone to the flowery feeding grounds I fly to the edge of the forest and there, tempted to feed from the cone-shaped flowers of a pendant vine, become enmeshed in the web of a great tropical spider.
"The spider stealthily approaches, watching a chance to spring when I have grown even more helpless from futile struggle. There is a whir of wing, a dart of rainbow light, a hole torn in the net. The spider is tossed from his footing and falls wounded to earth. There is anotherwelcome whir of wings and I, torn loose, half flutter, half fly to a nearby limb. Sir Knight has rescued his lady love!
"It was then I awoke and found you standing beside me with those flowers in your hand."
John did not think it necessary to tell the girl what she had done before he aroused her. This knowledge, with the dream, was to him an uncanny thing. The girl's experience he felt was in some weird way a call from a misty and long-forgotten past. The dream but emphasized comparisons he himself had made. He had even told his mother the girl reminded him of a humming bird. This conception, with the dream, blotted out all thought of the consummation of a slowly growing love. Though he tried to conceal this feeling, the girl in a subtle way perceived it. They returned to the library, and the Neals shortly after returned home.
That night the girl was depressed and could not sleep. She found herself repeating: "Oh, why did I tell John that dream! He did not like it; I wonder why."
The long-distance call was a request from Mr. Rogers to come to Pittsburgh. He left the next morning on the early train, without seeing Dorothy, and was detained ten days. When he returned she had gone home. He wrote an almost formal letter explaining his sudden departure and expressing regret that upon his return he had not found her in Harlan. She answered, acknowledging the receipt of his letter and expressing the hope that when he came to Louisville he would call upon her.
As a business proposition, the trip to Pittsburgh had been a complete success. The company had contracted to purchase some valuable mining property in WestVirginia and had sent for John to make a careful re-examination of the title and check up the abstract furnished by the vendor. This work required more than a week and when completed the company found it so satisfactory they paid him a bonus of $250.00 above his expenses and salary and informed him of a raise of his salary on the first of the month, when his first year would be completed, to two thousand dollars. This, with his practice, assured an income of four thousand dollars a year.
The experiences of Mary on her trip East to Wellesley and the first few months of college life were such as to try her courage and earnestness of purpose. Her traveling experience, until the family moved to Madison County, had been limited to trips to Pineville, Middlesboro and Harlan. Since moving, she had been to Richmond, Winchester and Lexington.
A week or so before she went East, she and her mother had gone to Lexington to purchase her clothing. Her father had given her one hundred and fifty dollars for the purpose, to which she had added fifty dollars of her own money.
Before she bought anything she insisted on sitting an hour in the hotel parlor and then walking about the street for the purpose of noting the costumes of girls her own age. She had gone to church at Paint Lick and, sitting near the pew of the Clays, had seen Bradley Clay and his sister, Rosamond, come in. Watching the girl, she had thought what a becoming costume she wore. It was a dark blue dress, very simply, though carefully, made. With this limited experience, when she began purchasing, going to a neatly dressed clerk and asking that she show her some costumes, and such as she herself fancied; her purchases, when completed and fitted, were appropriate and becoming and almost transformed the girl.
When the time came to leave home, her resolution was near the breaking point. She feared her father might be convicted, though she had faith in Mr. Cornwall,which had been strengthened by his predicted reversal of her father's case. She had never been separated any length of time from her mother, except when at school in Pineville. Then she had lived with her mother's sister, her aunt Mandy, and went home every Saturday. Now, for many months, she would be away from all kindred and acquaintances, depending for sympathy and companionship on yet unmade friends.
Her father said: "Don't go, little girl, if you don't feel like it," while she cried in his arms.
"Father, I shall go; be good to mother, and when Mr. Cornwall gets you off never touch a gun."
"Alright, Mary."
Her mother accompanied her to Winchester and there, with face stained by tears and the coal dust of the local train, bade her good-bye. Mary bought her ticket by way of New York, on the C. & O. At the advice of the agent, who was a kindly man and had grown daughters of his own, she purchased a Pullman ticket and was told when she arrived in New York to go straight to the traveler's aid matron in the station.
When the train pulled up, her cheap, little trunk was put in the baggage car and she, with a paper shoe box of lunch under her arm and a cheap handbag in the other hand, boarded the train and took a seat in the day coach, where she would have remained, except that the agent, seeing her talking through the window with her mother, pointed her out to the conductor as a Pullman passenger. After the train started, the conductor piloted her to her section and, as he went out, whispered to the car conductor to shoo off the drummers.
In New York the station matron put her aboard her train and sent a telegram to the college, asking that some one meet her, which Mary signed and paid for.
She was unable to qualify for the freshman course, but was permitted to enter on probation. Her natural ability and application were such that in a few months she had qualified herself to continue in the class and at the end of the spring term was ranked among the most proficient of the freshmen.
Upon her arrival she had been given a room with a little snob, the only child of a newly rich couple who lived in a suburb of Boston. Her roommate did everything she could to make Mary as miserable as possible. She made fun of her clothes, ridiculed her local idioms and expressions and laughed at her inexperience. She would not study and tried to keep Mary from doing so. She rolled on Mary's bed, keeping her own tidy; appropriated three-fourths of the closet and most of the drawers of the dresser and washstand, leaving for Mary the bottom drawer of each and closet hooks in the dark corner. She reported to the matron that Mary was not neat and quarrelled all the time. But the matron, wise to the girls of her day and generation, had her suspicions, and by a careful and unsuspected surveillance soon became cognizant of true conditions.
Mary was changed to share the room of a girl from Austin, Miss Litton, whose disposition was more like her own. From then on conditions became comfortable.
After Dorothy returned home, Cornwall's friends said he was hard hit, because he turned his back on social diversions. He merely reverted to his habits preceding her visit. For a while he was invited everywhere, but declined; finally they discontinued sending invitations and left him to his hermithood.
His sole recreation was the improvement of the old place, at which he spent all the time not given up to his law business. That grew steadily, so that in 1900, sixyears after he had established himself in Harlan, he had an income in excess of $5,000.00. This, with his mother's annuity of $1,800.00, gave them more than three thousand dollars a year in excess of their actual needs.
The leisure of the fall and winter of 1895 was spent in cleaning up, trimming the trees, transplanting shrubs and vines, including border beds of hydrangeas which were planted around the walls of the house and out-buildings. When spring came and the garden had been plowed, rolled and planted, the grounds were in perfect condition.
The yard and garden, so artistically laid off and perfectly kept, emphasized the unattractive appearance of the bare, red-brick house until John and his mother felt forced to alter its rectangular barrenness. Since paying for the house they had saved something over $2,000.00 for that purpose and felt justified in commencing its alteration.
Duffield, the company engineer, was possessed of considerable artistic taste and an amateur architect. It so happened a friend of his from Pittsburgh, an architect, whose specialty was suburban homes, was spending his summer vacation camping and fishing on the Poor Fork. Duffield, who was with him, finally prevailed upon John to join the party. He rode up to the camp on Friday afternoon and remained until the following Monday.
The visiting architect, the afternoon of his arrival in Harlan, passed the Cornwall home with Duffield. He commented upon the artistic arrangement of the grounds; the contrast between them and the house; and the opportunity the house offered for easy and artistic improvement.
John, not knowing the visitor was an architect, or that he had even seen his home, but seeking Duffield'sapproval of the contemplated modifications, disclosed his plans and asked for suggestions.
The architect, recalling the house, began making suggestions, in the main approving John's plans. After they had discussed them for some time, the visitor stated that when the fishing camp broke up he would take a look and help out a bit. It was then John learned that Mr. Bradford was an architect and regarded as an authority on suburban homes.
"Unless you stay up here and fish a few days with us, Bradford and I will not help you change the sober face and severe interior of your old, red-brick house. A home should suggest the character of its occupant, and your character is growing more in concord with your house each day; your affinitive expressions in a year or two will be perfect."
"I must go to town Monday morning; it is county court day, but will return Wednesday evening and remain until I have persuaded Mr. Bradford to make his home with me while I pump him dry of plans for the improvement of the old house."
And so Cornwall had the cheerful and gratuitous assistance of an architect in remodeling his home, who otherwise would have charged more than he contemplated spending for improvement. When they returned to town the three, with Mrs. Cornwall, spent several pleasant evenings discussing and drawing up plans for remodeling it, Mr. Bradford and Duffield becoming almost as interested as John and his mother.
When the time came for Mr. Bradford to return home, John and his mother exacted a promise from him to return the following summer and pass his vacation as their guest.
By the first of November the improvements were completed at a cost of $3,300.00, making the total cost of the place nearly $10,000.00. It was conceded to be the most attractive and modern home in the county, though not the most expensive. Mr. Neal liked it so well that he offered John $15,000.00, which was declined.
The little mountain city in growth kept pace with John's improved conditions. There were many new brick business buildings. The character and appearance of the stores were modified from a general to a specialized stock. When you bought a saw you might have to go round the corner to buy a sack of flour or a pair of shoes. The names of the old merchants, such as Nolen and Ward and Middleton, disappeared and the new signs and advertisements read: "Shoes greatly reduced because of our fire last week; going at half price. Leo Cohen." "We cut everything half in two to make room for our new stock. Herman Mann." "Linens at less than cost. Jacob Straus."
A new bank and trust company were opened and the old bank, The Harlan National, doubled its capital stock. The ice and lighting plants were enlarged, and the city bought a site up the river, built a dam, installed pumping engines and constructed water mains into the city. An opera house was built, which, though its walls never re-echoed to the high soprano notes of a prima donna; had trembled to their foundations at the invectives of E. T. Franks; had shed sections of blistered plaster at the sad wailings of Gus Wilson, and had been moved by the matchless eloquence of A. O. Stanley when telling the tale of his setter dog.
The company's demands upon Cornwall's time had grown so that he asked for and received an increase of salary of $50.00 per month to be used in the employmentof a stenographer. The young woman in the main office who had formerly done his work was now scarcely able to answer the company mail.
It being impossible to procure a competent unemployed local stenographer, he inserted an advertisement in a Louisville paper. The answers he received were varied and in some instances amusing. One or two sent their pictures. Several desired in advance to know the age of their prospective employer and whether he was blonde or brunette. One even asked that he send his picture, as she did not care to travel two hundred miles from home to face a fright.
He finally employed a little Jewess, whose reply dwelt particularly on the question of compensation; demanded Saturday afternoon off; and if the place did not prove satisfactory, even after several months' trial, that her return expenses to Louisville were to be paid. Her name was Rachael Rothchilds. She stated she was a sister of Mrs. Mann, whose husband had bought out the Middleton general store. She remained with him seven years until she married, and he never once regretted the selection.
When she came into the office the following Monday, Duffield was present; they were going over a survey together. After taking a good look at her he said: "Well, she'll not waste much time in flirtations. This office will give her the go-by." She weighed about ninety pounds, was twenty years old and had a sallow, scabby complexion. She evidently thought that her face called for an apology, and stated that she had just recovered from a spell of sickness, and her father thought the mountain air might do her good.
Her hair, however, was of remarkably fine texture and color, of a light chestnut, giving forth flashes of gold.She was of slight though good figure, was quick in catching a suggestion and endowed with considerable business sagacity.
As her father had expected, the mountain air did her good. Within three months her complexion cleared up and she took on several pounds in weight; color came into her lips and a snappy expression into her formerly dull eyes. Duffield, who had been so severe in his criticism of her appearance, began to take notice and to extend invitations to go driving, or to lunch, or for a walk, but she invariably answered that she could only go out with Jewish boys.
She must have been with Cornwall a year before he realized how she had improved in appearance. When sitting one day where the light and angle brought out the perfect profile of her features and the golden sheen of her hair, he first became aware that she was a beautiful woman, with as clear-cut and classic a face as the best cameo might exhibit.
She was so smilingly cheerful and sweet-tempered that the boys of the office gave her the name of "Cricket," and so competent that suggestions and directions were superfluous in the performance of her efficient work.
Slowly there crept into Cornwall's heart a tender feeling for the girl and when, several months later, Leo Cohen, the shoe merchant, began calling upon her and playing the devoted, and he saw how she responded to his attentions, even when walking with him, taking side steps to look up into his face with eyes of love and happiness, Cornwall suffered many jealous pangs.
In a way that women have, not known to men, she found out that Cornwall was a devoted and consistent admirer. While she was fond of him in a companionableway, the shoe merchant was too strongly entrenched in her heart to leave the least room for another.
The houses of Kentucky mountaineers are usually built upon a water course. Every native family living on Cumberland River, or its forks or tributaries, had a flock of geese which are kept to supply feathers for their feather beds. The geese are rarely eaten. It is bad enough to be plucked twice a year; the sensation is not pleasant and nights in the mountains are cool.
Even sadder days were in store for the geese after the establishment of the Jewish colony in Harlan; the average life of a goose is fifty years and this for the Harlan County flock was considerably reduced. The colony found no trouble in purchasing plucked geese at bargain prices for food and grease.
Leo began his regular Sunday call on Rachael Rothchilds at 11 a. m. and continued it without break or intermission until 11 o'clock every Sunday night.
Rachael, during each of three winters, expended a month's salary buying geese to feed Leo and he grew fat and slick, the sly, old fox, on hot-baked goose for dinner and cold roast goose for supper. Every time he sneezed she pressed upon him the gift of a jar of goose grease with which to anoint his chest, and he blackened and sold it to his customers for shoe oil.
Leo was slow and careful in making proposals and suggesting a wedding day. For three long, suspensive years he called from two to three times weekly upon the girl and each Sunday feasted upon the fat of Gooseland, which is at the headwaters of the Cumberland River—all the while making the girl believe that she was to be his wife, though she was made to understand that the date was far ahead in the dim vistal future when his financial position justified marrying one who bore the name ofthat celebrated family of bankers. The day of the girl's contemplated happiness might have been moved forward with satisfactory celerity had not Leo inquired of his friend Simon, of Louisville, as to old man Rothchild's bank account, and learned that he had nothing that sounded like real money but his name, whereas to Leo a rich Jewess by any other name would have seemed sweeter.
After the courtship had continued three years, the shoe merchant in preparing for a fire sale left too many tracks in the snow. The fire marshal reported that the fire was caused by an Israelite in the basement and Leo, after many worries and the loss of his insurance, sought other goose pastures.
In the early summer Cornwall wrote Howard Bradford, reminding him of his promise to spend his summer vacation with them, and received an answer saying he looked forward with pleasure to the time of keeping it, which would be about the 20th of July.
The first week in July, John, passing the Neal home, was surprised to see Dorothy Durrett standing on the porch. She had arrived the day before. He was glad to learn that she expected to spend the summer with her aunt. They had a pleasant chat, for the most part, about their parties of the summer of two years before. Dorothy was now nearly twenty-one and in appearance even more attractive than when he had first known her. He told her of Howard Bradford's contemplated visit, and they began formulating plans for the summer.
"You have not seen our house since it was remodeled according to Mr. Bradford's suggestion, nor have you seen my mother; come with me now. I am thinking of giving a dance in honor of our guest. Three rooms of the lower floor are so arranged that they can be madeinto one, giving us plenty of room to dance. Will you please help me out?"
"Certainly I will, John. You used to say we were meant to help each other. Let me get a hat and tell Aunt Anna where I am going."
"How the place is improved! The grounds were always delightful; now the whole is toned and in concord; a very delightful picture. There is your mother at the door waiting for her John. The woman who takes you off her hands gets an armload of responsibility. A man always compares his wife with his mother and you, John, will expect your wife to love and mother you as she has done."
"Oh, Dorothy! I am glad to see you! I did not know you in the start, or John, either. I do not see so well and I did not expect to see John with a woman. When did you come? You are even more attractive than when you were here two years ago. John has acted like an old man since then. I wish some nice girl would marry him."
"Oh, John and I understand each other; we could be the best of friends, but never lovers. I will have to find him a good wife, else in his inexperience, with his head buried in a book, he may make a mistake. I know the very girl—Rosamond Clay, of Madison County; she visited me last winter. I shall have my aunt ask her to visit us while I am with her. Then I shall assign John to her and depend on Mr. Bradford or Mr. Duffield to entertain me. Watch what a match-maker I am, Mrs. Cornwall. Let us go through the house and then into the garden. My aunt insisted that I hurry back. What a delightful place for your dance! We can decorate with hydrangeas and golden glow. John, the garden looks just the same as it did that Sunday afternoon two yearsago when we sat on this same bench under the arbor of ripening grapes and I told you my dream of the humming birds. For a while I regretted having done so, knowing that you saw too deeply into my heart and was not wholly satisfied with the vision. What you saw was, in a way, the soul of Dorothy. Now I am glad I told it. We would never have been real happy, John, though we were beginning to think so. I hope before I marry the one I love will tell me even his dreams; they sometimes lift the curtain to the inner self. I must go now."
"Mother, I am walking home with Dorothy and shall come right back."
"Don't say that, John; no sentiment; that day is gone, perhaps for our mutual happiness. You are my friend, John Cornwall, and always will be. Come over tomorrow evening and tell me about yourself and your friends. When Mr. Bradford comes I imagine I will like him. Good-night, John."
The following evening John called on Dorothy. He found Duffield and Helen Creech there. Duffield, rising when he came in, resumed his seat beside Dorothy, while he sat on the opposite side of the porch talking with Miss Creech. He remained an hour, walking home with her. As they were leaving, Dorothy said: "Aunt Anna wrote to Miss Clay today. Good-night, Mr. Cornwall. Come again whenever you can, Helen."
Howard Bradford arrived on the 21st of July. As he and Cornwall drove through the gateway, he had an excellent view of the Cornwall home. He declared the house charming as modified and complimented John on his efforts as a landscape gardener.
They spent the afternoon loafing around home, except an hour when John went to the office, while Bradford slept, fanned by a breeze that blew down the river and sang in softest murmurs through the windows of his corner room.
When Cornwall returned, Duffield came with him and remained for dinner and until a late hour. Bradford, when he learned that they each owned a saddle horse and that those for hire were saddle-galled and the free-goers nearly ridden to death, handed $250.00 to Duffield, who had said that he knew of a horse for sale at that price and worth the money, saying: "Though I shall be here but two weeks, the horse can be sent to Pittsburgh, or sold again if I do not like him."
They had intended camping on Poor Fork at the camp site of the preceding summer; but as each would have his own horse, and the fishing was better just at that time five miles from town than near the head of the river, they concluded to remain at home, spending the mornings fishing and the afternoons boating, swimming or mountain-climbing. At least this was the agreed programme until Duffield should complete surveying the Lockard grant in Leslie County, when his vacation commenced.
The next morning Cornwall sent Dorothy a note, telling her of his guest's arrival and asking permission to bring him around that evening. She answered: "You are to come at six and dine with us, remaining for the evening. I have a surprise for you, John. It is unnecessary to answer unless you find my invitation impossible. Dorothy."
At six o'clock the young men, looking fresh and comfortable in their white flannels walked over to the Neal home. Mrs. Neal and Dorothy were sitting on the porch and after greetings all found seats. Rosamond Clay, Dorothy's guest, came out and joined them.
She was a tall, athletic, strikingly handsome brunette, just eighteen and, as the boys subsequently found out, a better shot, swimmer and mountain-climber than either of them. In disposition and appearance she seemed the very antithesis of Dorothy, though Dorothy enjoyed an open-air life, and her wiry, little body was capable of withstanding great physical strain.
"Mr. Bradford, this is Miss Clay, and, John, this is Rosamond. She had just gotten in when I received your note and is the surprise I mentioned. She is to remain a month and I am counting on you helping to entertain her."
"May my surprises always be as agreeable. With Miss Clay's permission I shall do all in my power to make her visit a pleasant one. If she is fond of out-door sports, riding, fishing, boating and mountain-climbing, which we have a right to assume since she has come to the mountains, we can promise her a good time."
"That is just what I adore. I have brought my own saddle, fishing tackle and swimming suit. I wanted to bring a canoe, but Bradford said I could easily procure a dug out and refused to express anything but thepaddles. I even thought of sending my horse, but father said that would scare Mrs. Neal to death, as she was expecting a visitor and had not offered to adopt me. I understand you have a fine saddle mare; I shall ride her and you can get a mule."
"You have mentioned just the things she loves. She constantly wants to be doing something or going somewhere. She rides, drives, swims, shoots, climbs cliffs and trees and is a good, all-round sportsman. I'm not sure, but I think she keeps several fox hounds. Her brother, Bradley, says they belong to him to save her reputation. As soon as she wrote she would visit me, I ordered some hob-nailed shoes and a bathing-suit from Louisville and sent to the drug store for a bottle of iodine, some surgeon's tape and several sheets of adhesive plaster. If you gentlemen can work in a dance in the evening after each mountain climb, her happiness is assured. Here comes father. Mr. Bradford, you are to sit beside me at dinner and you, John, with Rosamond."
After dinner Duffield and Miss Creech and Mr. Cornett and Miss Hall came in; and the time until eleven o'clock was spent in chit-chat on the porch or, when Mrs. Neal could be prevailed upon to play the piano, in dancing in the drawing-room.
Before the party broke up Bradford and Cornwall made an engagement to take Dorothy and Rosamond up the river fishing at 6:30 the next morning.
As the boys went home they stopped by the livery stable to hire three saddle horses. Finding this impossible, they engaged a light jersey wagon, which Cornwall and the girls were to use, while Bradford was to ride Cornwall's horse.
They had an early breakfast and left on time. When near the ford of Poor Fork, Bradley discovered that hehad left his tackle at the stable. He rode back for it while the others, crossing the river, drove up the fork.
When they came to the creek, where it was planned they should seine their minnows, they waited some time for Bradford; then Cornwall tried to seine, but the stream was too deep and the seine too large for individual effort.
This Rosamond, the young and enticing Diana of the party, noticed and, gathering up the cotton lap-robe, a coffee sack and some twine, which she found in the box under the wagon seat, retired to a clump of elder bushes and in a few minutes came forth draped in the lap-robe and moccasined with coffee sacking.
Cornwall was a slave to her most fantastic command from the moment she stepped forth from her screen of elder bushes, topped with their white, pancake flowers, and, taking hold of one end of the seine, jerked and floundered him around while he attempted to retain possession of the other, dragging him barefoot over sharp pebbles and, when on a smooth ledge of rock, sat him down in water to his shoulders. He rejoiced at Bradford's absence and that no other man had seen her loveliness, half-hidden, half-revealed.
They soon had a bucket of minnows and as they drove up the river were overtaken by Bradford, who, mistaking the road, had ridden quite a distance down the main stream.
Miss Clay, Dorothy and Bradford had no trouble in landing a nice catch, but Cornwall's eyes were never on his float, which the fish converted into a submarine when baited and after the minnow had been stolen reposedly floated upon the surface, the resting-place of a big, lace-winged snake doctor.
"Mr. Cornwall, why don't you rebait your hook and try to catch something? What was the good of mygoing to all that trouble in helping you seine if you will not use the minnows? You look everywhere, except at your float; first at me, then over the treetops as though you wished I were at home or in Heaven."
"That's right, I look first at you. The minnows have helped you land the fish. I feel like a crappie on a dusty turnpike. You have caught more than one variety today! Let's go home. And I am not going to drive those sleepy, old plow horses unless you sit on the front seat." And so they rode home together.
The next afternoon they planned to climb the mountain, but when Bradford and Cornwall came to the house, he said to Rosamond: "Let us drive up the river to Helen Creech's; Bradford and Dorothy can find something else to do," to which she assented.
Driving slowly along the narrow, shaded road that bordered the river bank, he held her hand and called her "dear," and told her the love story that Kentucky boys tell the girls with whom they go; and she parried and checked him as she had several times before been called upon to do with other boys.
Thus each day, either paddling on the river or riding horseback, or fishing, or bathing, or mountain-climbing, the four were together or paired off; he with Rosamond and Bradford with Dorothy; and each repeatedly declared that they had never before had so glorious a holiday.
Cornwall, at the end of two weeks, made up his mind to propose; and Rosamond, expecting it, had decided she would accept—if he would consent to defer the marriage a couple of years.
Strange that Cornwall and Bradford should each have decided to propose at the same time and place; that is, the night of his dance and on the bench in the garden.Bradford, because he expected to leave the following Monday, his stay already having consumed more than the intended two weeks; Cornwall, thinking that he would first like to show Rosamond through his home.
While they were decorating the house, in which Mrs. Neal, Dorothy and Rosamond assisted Mrs. Cornwall, he showed her over the house and grounds and, pointing out the bench in the arbor, said: "Tonight, Rosamond, at eleven I shall bring you out here and ask you something. Watch the time and save that dance for me. If you do not, I may take it for your answer."
When the hour came he claimed the dance. After dancing a minute or two, they passed into the dining-room and out the side door into the moonlit garden.
As they drew near the arbor they heard Bradley say: "This was my dream, Dorothy." Cornwall, thinking of Dorothy's dream of two years before, and remembering what she had recently said to him about dreams, was slightly startled. He let go Rosamond's arm and unconsciously turned towards the house. Rosamond, surprised and conscious of some subtle change in his mood, suggested that they return to the ballroom.
Bradford, without giving Dorothy time for thought, brought her into the garden and told his dream of the night before.
"Last night I came directly home after I left you and went to my room. Feeling I could not sleep, I sat in the window, looking out upon the moonlit mountain side and the silent river, the moon seeming to make a path of silver on the water to the base of the little trail up the mountain where yesterday I told you that our friendship, at least to me, grew stronger with each succeeding day. Then I said the simple prayer my motherhad taught me when a little boy and went to bed and to sleep.
"I dreamed that mother let go of my hand and I went forth alone, a little boy in knee trousers, walking along a narrow path that followed down the bank of a tiny rivulet. As I walked along I grew older, my clothing changed to suit my age, the path began to broaden and the stream to deepen, and I passed along through the school days and other experiences of my boyhood, still following the broadening path and deepening stream and passing one by one the experiences I have known. The start was at sunrise and the day perhaps a third gone when, I, a grown man, came out into a valley and to a river over which was a fragile bridge. I saw that thousands of trails like my own converged at its approach and spread out fan-like from the other end. As I stood and looked, the trails around faded out, except the one down which I had come and another. A short way above the bridge a stream like the one I had followed flowed into the river and along its bank was a path much like the one I had followed. As I looked a young woman came round the turn and saw the river and the bridge and that I stood waiting at its approach. She hesitated for a moment and then came slowly on. When she drew near I saw it was you and, going up, took your hand and together, hand in hand, we crossed the bridge. Looking ahead, I saw that the many trails at the farther end had disappeared except the small one up the mountainside; this we took.
"The trail gradually broadened into a bright, smooth way and the ascent, though unbroken, was not difficult. All the time I held you by the hand. One day your step grew slower and, looking for the cause, I noticed that, though I still held your left hand, a small boy walkedon the right and held the other. I felt some small, warm thing take hold of my left hand with a tender, warm pressure and, looking down to see the cause, saw it was another Dorothy, a miniature of your own sweet self; and would have taken her up on my arm, but you, wiser than I in such things, said: 'She must walk the trail—all you can do is to go more slowly and lead her by the hand.' After a time I noticed that these two found no trouble in keeping up with us and, before we reached the top, they occasionally restrained themselves to keep pace with us. When at the top, the boy, unknowingly, let go your hand. He followed a trail to the right along the comb of the ridge, which you and I could not follow, though we tried. The girl with a cry of joy released my hand and took that of a young man who seemed waiting for her, and they journeyed on to the left. I, taking both your hands in mine because our idle hands seemed lonely, looked into your face, as I had not done since first we met by the river. Your face had grown more thoughtful and more calm, more patient and more kind; the lovelight in your eyes spoke of the soul. Your hair, though white, was more beautiful than when pure gold. I knew your unspoken thoughts; and, with the lingering kiss of yesterday and a smile for the morrow, we turned our faces and journeyed downward into the vale of years. Dorothy, shall we make the dream come true or must I go back to the bridge and hunt another trail?"
"If you are quite sure you wish it above all else the world can give, we will live the dream."
Cornwall spent the entire day after the dance at his office. He found a note from Mary in his mail. She was at her home in Madison County. He wondered how shemight look after three years at Wellesley. She mentioned that one of her neighbors was visiting in Harlan, Miss Clay, whose brother, Bradley Clay, had called the evening before, and stated his sister had written she was having a perfectly glorious time.
The thought occurred to him that if Mary were near enough, he would go to her. Rosamond I love when near her; I think of Mary every day—yet I have not seen her for three long years.
When Bradford, entering the room and all smiles, said: "Come, let's go to the Neals,'" he answered: "No, I think I shall rest tonight; I am moody and prefer solitude."
"Well, I'll go for Duffield. Pleasant dreams, John, as happy as mine shall be; so long!"
John went into the library and read the first few pages of Machiavelli's "History of Florence," about a king of the Zepidi and his daughter, Rosamond, and he slept, and as he slept he dreamed.
It seemed to him that his Rosamond, perhaps ten year older, came into the room. She was clothed in vivid draperies and wore a circlet of old gold upon her brow, heavy bracelets upon her upper arm and a chain-like girdle of gold around her waist, from which hung a jeweled dagger.
As he looked she spoke:
"I rarely see father, except in armor. Day after day mother and her maids work at bandages and wound dressings. The halls of the castle are littered with arms and the courtyard and plain surrounding the walls is the assembly ground of armed horsemen preparing to go and returning from distant camps. It has been thus since Narses drove our kinsmen home to Pannonia, after several years' quiet occupancy of northern Italy.
"Now, Alboin, King of Lombardy, instigated by Narses and aided by the Avars, following after our expelled kinsmen, has invaded our country even to the plains of the Danube. We can see from the castle walls not only our own, but his invading host as they make preparation for final battle to determine the sovereignty of Pannonia.
"With such a drama pending, I am not content to be a bandage and salve-maker in the women's quarter. Who would, if brought up to ride and fence and wrestle with brothers and cousins, when they had all gone to war? I desired to go, but was not permitted. Now with Maria, my maid, I have found a good observation point in the tower and watch the opposing forces maneuvering for position in advance of hostilities.
"Maria, I make out father's standard on the hillside near the grove; and just across the small stream, not more than five hundred yards away, that of Alboin, King of Lombardy. See! they charge each other; you may hear the din and shouting even at this distance.
"Maria asks: 'Mistress Rosamond, no matter what happens, will you care for and keep me with you?'
"Do not be afraid; father will win. Our men heretofore have fought under other leaders not so brave, while he massed this force for the supreme struggle. * * * They seem to have fought for hours, neither side gives an inch. * * * See! the stream which runs through the field of battle and flows by the castle is red with blood. * * * I fear 'tis a sad day for Pannonia. Oh! our army gives on the north wing, * * * but father holds firm in his position * * * Oh! the north wing has broken and flees toward the castle! All seems lost! Father will be surrounded! See how our men and the enemy are intermingled in theirflight. They will reach the castle gates together; it will be impossible to let them in. Maria, run to the gatemen and tell them to close the gates and let no one in till father comes. That cowardly mass if they entered, would be no protection but surrender the castle. But wait; we will go together to the gates.
"Gatemen! Friend and foe come together. Raise the draw! Close the gates! Let the first to flee be the first to die, and at the castle gates! Let them make an unwilling stand in defense of their own lives and so defend the gates! They tell me a coward fights hard when cornered. Dare disobey at your peril! It is the command of your king.
"The princess is right; to let this fleeing mob enter is but to surrender the castle. Raise the draw! Drop the portcullis!
"In a few minutes there was a struggling mass in front of the gates. Our men, finding them closed and no way to escape their assailants, fought with the desperation of cornered beasts.
"The standard of Pannonia still floated where first the conflict began, showing that my father, the king, made desperate resistance against overwhelming odds. * * * But even as I looked I saw it swept down under a driving charge and knew he was of the dead and the battle lost.
"In a short while the fighting ceased around the gates. Alboin, King of Lombardy, riding up. I ordered the bridge lowered and the gates raised, when he rode unopposed into the court yard.
"Those were fierce, wild days. A feast in celebration of the victory and of Alboin's coronation as King of Pannonia was held in the castle and a week later I was forcibly made wife of the victorious king. I was toldmy father's skull had been shaped into a drinking cup and used by Alboin at the feast of victory.
"He was comely and commanding; demanding and receiving homage and instant obedience from all. In time I might have loved him, except for the drinking cup.
"So Alboin reigned King of Pannonia and I his queen for more than two years.
"Then Narses, who commanded the forces of Justinian in all Italy until the Emperor's death, was deposed by his son and successor, Justin, who, at the instance of his Queen, had Longinus appointed in Narses' place. In revenge he invited my husband to invade Italy.
"Alboin consented; and was so successful in the undertaking as to gain possession of all Italy from the northern boundary to the Tiber. He established his capital at Pavia and his household and court were moved from Pannonia to that city.
"A great feast was held at Verona to celebrate his victories and the establishment of the new kingdom. I sat across the table from him. The ferocious and heartless man ordered the drinking cup made from the skull of my father and filling it with red wine to the brim, passed it to me, saying: 'It is but fitting in celebration of our great victories that you should drink with your father.' I tossed the contents into his face, threw the cup from the window into the Adige and fled from the banquet hall.
"From that night my sole purpose in life was to avenge the insult. I determined that he should die by my procurement or at my hand.
"The maid, Maria, who in devotion would have given her life for mine, had a lover, Helmichis, shield-bearer of Alboin. I plotted with her that he should become theinstrument of my vengeance and so had her bring him to my chamber. There I soon discovered he was not sufficiently in love with the maid to assume any risk on her account or at her solicitation.
"Willing to take any risk or make any promise to accomplish the assassination, I finally agreed to marry him, if he would kill my husband. This he did.
"The Lombards were so exasperated over their King's death we dared not remain in Pavia or even in Lombardy; but, seizing the royal treasure and leaving Maria behind, we fled to Ravenna, where Longinus, Narses' successor, had his capitol. There we were royally entertained and most kindly treated.
"It was not long before Helmichis grew disgustingly wearisome to me. He quarreled much about the possession and division of the royal treasure, which was very great, but never once did he see within the chests. He was anything but a model husband, delighting in low company, flirting with every maid and peasant girl and by nature fiercer and much less refined than Alboin, whom I had found endurable, except when drunk.
"Longinus, on the other hand, was a refined and courtly man, having been brought up in the palace of Justinian. I admired him much. He was wise, brave, ambitious and most prepossessing in appearance. He had told me several times that had I come to his court a widow, his disappointment would have been great had I not remained as his Queen.
"About this time the Emperor Justin died and was succeeded by Tiberius. He was so occupied by his wars with the Parthians as to neglect his Italian possessions, leaving them masterless or to be ruled by Longinus as the real, though not the nominal, King.
"I had become the confidential adviser of Longinus; and in discussing matters of state and the condition of the empire, we concluded it was a most opportune time to take possession of northern Italy to the Tiber; and were convinced that by pooling our resources this could be accomplished, were it not for Helmichis. The first step in the consummation of our plan was to be rid of him.
"Each day he took a hot bath. He always came forth thirsty and demanded that I prepare a cool, acid drink and hand him. Longinus, knowing this, gave me a strong poison to put in his drink, and when next I mixed and served it I used the poison.
"Helmichis drank more than half when, noticing the flavor, his suspicion was aroused, and, knowing that he knew, I smiled. He snatched up his short sword, caught me by the hair and, handing me the goblet, shouted: 'Drink or lose your head.'
"Preferring to die from the poison than be a disfigured, headless corpse, I drank what remained, and died within five minutes of my despised husband."
John awoke with a start, considerably disquieted by his dream.
The next evening, with Bradford, he called at the Neals'. Dorothy met them at the door and they found seats. Rosamond, tall, graceful and queenly, came into the room. To John it seemed a shadow followed after her; the wraith of the widow of Alboin, co-conspirator with Helmichis and Longinus.
It was impossible to live down this unpleasant impression for a day or two. While doing so, Rosamond took offense at his coolness and announced her intention of returning home the following Monday. Dorothy expressed disappointment at this and Saturday afternoonstated that she, too, would leave on Monday. Bradford left on the same train. The three traveled together as far as Stanford, where Rosamond left them; then Bradford and Dorothy rode on to Louisville.
There Dorothy was met by her mother. Mr. Bradford was introduced and drove with them to the Durrett home. He remained in Louisville several days and called at the Durrett home every afternoon, remaining for dinner and until a late hour.
The morning of his departure, glancing through the personals—a suspicious act, as it was rather unusual for him—he read of his departure after a brief visit, and at the head of the column that Mr. and Mrs. Harrison Durrett announced the engagement of their daughter, Dorothy, to Mr. Howard Bradford, of Pittsburgh.