CHAPTER XXIIICOUSIN ANGELINEUncle Job's departure made me very unhappy, and when I could no longer see a trace of the boat that carried him away, my heart grew sick and tears started in my eyes at the thought of my abandoned state. Cousin Rolland, however, scarce giving me time to breathe, took me here and there about the little town, keeping up the while such a flow of small talk that in a little while I found myself joining with the greatest heartiness in all he said and did. When it was time for luncheon we went to his home, but not directly, for making some excuse, he left me a little way off, going on alone. This I thought very proper, I being a stranger to his wife and the circumstances of my coming peculiar. When, however, he did not return for an hour or more, I became uneasy, and some further time elapsing, was filled with fear, not being able to understand the cause of his prolonged absence. At last, to my great relief, he returned, and without explaining anything, began anew to assure me of the delight with which Cousin Angeline entered into our plans and the desire she had to know her young kinsman. Thus relieved of any anxiety, for I was never of a suspicious disposition, I went on with him to his home in the greatest possible ease of mind. Nothing in Cousin Angeline's manner tended to disturb this feeling when I was presented to her. Nor afterward, indeed, at luncheon, for she was, on occasion and when that way inclined, a woman of more than ordinary tact and dignity. Much younger than Cousin Rolland, she lacked his rosiness of color and fullness of figure, he being very red and plump of build, while she was tall and of somewhat meager frame. Her eyes, if I may attempt to tell you how she looked, were a light blue, and save when at times tinged with a steeliness as of ice, were rather attractive than otherwise. Her mouth I thought remarkable for its great firmness, for her lips offered no more resistance to the eye than the edge of a knife-blade. Her nose, too, was noticeable, being finely formed and in all things perfect, until at last, approaching the end, the material giving out, or something else happening, what remained had been squeezed into a point somewhat too sharp for comeliness, and so left. However, I did not observe these things at the time, or if I did, only vaguely, being young and generally ignorant in respect to the importance of such matters in our daily life.The luncheon was light, but every way fit for abstemious people, though much unlike what I had been used to at Wild Plum, where there was profusion verging on waste in all such things. However, being hungry, I did not regard it particularly, but ate with great heartiness, paying little attention to what was going on about me. Once indeed, as the meal progressed, happening to glance in Cousin Angeline's direction, I thought I detected some show of uneasiness at the inroads I was making on her bread and butter, but not believing such a thing possible, I gave it no further attention. Nothing of any account was said at the table, except that Cousin Angeline showed much curiosity concerning my old home, and particularly Aunt Jane and her attorney, Moth. This I thought very kind, and answered her inquiries with great fullness, being desirous above all things to please her. Seeing this, she smiled encouragingly, as if much admiring my amiability and frankness of speech.After luncheon Cousin Rolland did not stop, but bidding me good by hurried away, and this abruptly, as if greatly pressed for time. Being thus left alone with Cousin Angeline, and she seeming to forget I was there, I presently went out to inspect the garden, some glimpses of which I had obtained from the window. Of gravel and cleanliness there was no end, but of flowers no great profusion or variety, and such as there were, I thought, had a stiff, aggressive look, as if challenging me to come near or touch them. Altogether they had the air of soldiers on duty, and because of too strict discipline or for some other good reason, had lost something of the glow and comfort of outdoor life. Of flowers, however, I had never as a youth taken much account, not being able to understand them, nor, indeed, make them thrive, as my mother could without thought. Because of this I was inclined to look on what I now saw as something out of my line, and therefore not to be lightly criticised. In this frame of mind I went on to where a mild-eyed cow stood watching me curiously, as cows will when strangers approach. Not having any morsel with which to tempt her palate, I stroked her face for a while, and then turned to the little colonies of chickens that busied themselves near by. These I saluted as old friends, being much inclined to their cheerful companionship, carried on as it always is with so much small talk and pleasurable excitement. Thus being once more in their company, I fell into an attitude of attention and interest, to which they at once responded by much clucking and diligent search after the small particles of food the yard contained. These old friends I came in time to know very well, and with great liking, because of their simple ways; but of their product, which I looked forward to with interest, as young people of good appetite will, only a small portion ever found its way to the table. The reason of this, as I learned at a later day, was that the greater part was put aside and converted by Cousin Angeline, with other small perquisites of the house, into a secret fund for her own particular behoof and divertisement. This properly enough. However, it did not come fully to light until after Cousin Rolland's death, some years later, when the fund thus laid away came in the nick of time to enable her to live on in great contentment and ease of life. This until one day a clergyman of studious habits coming along and being desirous to marry, yet not having the time to examine the goods he was getting, or being ignorant in respect to such matters, he took her out of hand, as Cousin Rolland had done before him. However, these things being then unknown, as I say, I confidently looked forward to a plentiful supply of butter and eggs, as in the old time at Wild Plum, though mistakenly, as it appeared. When the scantiness of fare in this respect became apparent, I did not much regard it, I am bound to say, being always stout of appetite for such things as fell in my way, thinking little of what was lacking. Indeed, I had heard it said, and wisely, that we were ever inclined to eat more than was good for us. This saying was often on my Aunt Jane's lips, and she, living up to her doctrine, was in everything healthy and well preserved. So that if sometimes on getting up from Cousin Angelina's table I felt that I could have eaten more, remembering my aunt and her rugged health, I was fain to think it for the best. Such reflections of the young, however apt, are more natural to mature folk, being seasoned in the latter case with a philosophy of life that the former lack. So that if abstinence is not always accepted by children with good grace, older people and relatives, however remote, should make allowance for the circumstance.On the evening of my arrival, tea was delayed by Cousin Rolland's not coming at the time expected, and when he reached home I observed an unsteadiness of limb and height of voice that I had not noticed before. Cousin Angeline also remarked the change, and harshly, by a word that, out of respect for Cousin Rolland, I may not repeat. When the meal was over, and it was not such, I am bound to say, as to cause one to lay awake because of too much fullness, we sat about in great discomfort of mind, Cousin Rolland making pretense of reading and Cousin Angeline busying herself with some accounts that lay docketed in a precise way on her table. These, I learned later, had to do with the many charitable matters in which she was interested, and to their great and lasting good, so it was claimed. Her contributions toward work of this nature, however, were rather in the way of supervision and needed advice than in the giving of more tangible things. In new and unorganized societies such duties, she was often at pains to point out, were much more necessary and difficult of procurement than the mere giving of money. Nevertheless, in accepting offices requiring this disparity of service she did so without jealousy or protest, her desire to help, she would say, leading her to act with cheerful zeal, leaving the lesser labor of providing funds and supplies to those competent in that direction.When it was time to retire for the night, Cousin Angeline made much of the cozy nook she had arranged for me, and indeed it quite exceeded anything of the kind I had ever seen. The couch, which answered for both bed and lounge, was put to one side of the kitchen, and so deftly that lying down my feet just missed the stove at one end, while my head barely escaped contact with the cupboard at the other. Upon trial I found the bed hard and the clothing scant, but it being summer this last I thought not worth noticing. Cousin Rolland, who had by this time regained his former composure, eyed the bed with great disfavor, but being in disgrace, did not venture further than to inquire why she had not given me a room, there being one unoccupied. To this Cousin Angeline replied by look rather than words, but on the whole giving out that it was unprepared, and in any event hardly suitable for such occupancy, being in the nature of a guest-chamber. As I made no remark, but began resolutely to take off my clothes, being tired with the day's doings, nothing more was said on the subject. Bidding me good night, they went away, leaving me in darkness, save that, happily and as of good omen, plenty of light came from the full moon shining through the open window at my side. The bed, to my young and pliant bones, seemed at first not so hard, but later, the edge being taken off my weariness, I awoke to find it different; but never having set much store by such things when living in greater luxury of life, and being still tired, I turned my face to the wall, and was soon lost in sleep.My life the first day was in no particular different throughout my stay with Cousin Angeline, except such slight change as going to Cousin Rolland's office or loitering by the river, which latter ever drew me, by reason of its great and masterful ways. Unhappily for me, however, my habits, and more particularly my manners, not being suited to city life, soon attracted the attention and reproof of Cousin Angeline. In this connection, and that I might improve the faster, she cited as examples for me to study her orphaned nephews, Rudley and James, whose bringing-up she had supervised, and to whom she was in all things greatly attached. Her reference to these young gentlemen, whom I was destined never to see, were given, too, with much strength of utterance as time went on and the need of reproof became more and more apparent. For Cousin Angeline was not lacking in force of speech, as she was fond of saying, when good might be accomplished thereby. Her frequent reference to Rudley and James made them a source of anxiety to me at first, and later a cause of fear and shame, for however strenuously I sought to follow their example, I could never by any chance come near to them, even in the smallest particular of their lives. In the larger things my failure was more marked, but not without hopefulness at first. Thus, when Cousin Angeline told me it had never been necessary to bribe Rudley and James to read the Bible, and that even as children they loved to bury their faces in its sacred pages, I strove to become equally interested. So, too, in regard to keeping the Sabbath and absence of desire to amuse myself on that sacred day. To them, she was wont to say, the hum of the Sunday-school was like the music of the harps; and upright and alert, with attentive faces, no fragment of prayer or sermon ever escaped their hungry ears. Of texts they could repeat every one they had heard, down to the very last, but I, when questioned, could not for the life of me think of one. It thus fell out that the feet of Rudley and James, being fixed on solid ground, all else came easy. It was a second nature to them to be respectful and prompt at meals, sparing in the use of jam, and ever regardful of those about them. Nor could they tell a lie, or come to the table save with shining faces.Such, unfortunately for me, because of my shortcomings, were Rudley and James, in all things upright and without shred or raveling of any kind. When I came to know how perfect they were, I never through vanity sought to equal them in any great thing, but struggled only to pattern after them in smaller matters, but fruitlessly, as it turned out. Nor was I alone in these efforts, not indeed to achieve preferment, but bear equality in some immaterial thing. For Cousin Rolland came in with like scantiness of resource in comparison with Cousin Angeline's dear father, who in every detail of life, so it appeared, was a model of sobriety and goodly thrift. These comparisons, however unpalatable, Cousin Rolland and I came in time to bear with patience; nay, to look forward to with equanimity, as one may become accustomed to any disquieting thing in life. Nor did we ever question anything she said, for Cousin Angeline was not a woman to argue with, much less to contradict in matters about which she had made up her mind. If, indeed, one were so foolish, she had a way of conjuring up something in her own experience that would utterly and forever upset all your arguments, however plausible they might appear. This trait, however, we often notice in good men and women that we know, and so I do wrong, perhaps, to speak of it as peculiar to her.In all Cousin Angeline's references to Rudley and James, the former, I came to remark, was ever named first. Whether this was because he was older or the more upright of life I never knew—or if I did, have forgotten.Thus they passed, and to my good, I hope; but in the long years that have elapsed since that far-off time I have had, as you may suppose, many curious reflections regarding them; not, indeed, in the way of speculative desire for nearer acquaintance, but rather as to how they fell out in the end—whether they lived on to old age, looked up to and honored by the world, or relaxing because of too great strain, finally fell by the wayside in sheer contrariness of spirit, and so ended their lives in shame, and different from what might have been hoped. Of these details and others of interest I shall now never know, for the connecting-threads by which knowledge might have come to me were long since severed. Thus it has been that at the end of all my cogitations concerning them, I have ever been compelled, and to my great regret, to bid them a new and reluctant farewell.CHAPTER XXIVTHE FISHERS"Fish'll bite their own tails on a day like this, Gilbert, and will go crazy at sight of a grasshopper," Cousin Rolland remarked one afternoon as we came out from luncheon and were well clear of the house."Yes," I answered, looking up at the sky, which was overcast with gray clouds."What do you say, then, to a little diversion—after office hours?" he asked, coaxingly, as if seeking to influence me."I'd like it," I answered, which he knew well enough."Well, then, suppose you be at the inlet at four—that is, if your cousin can spare you," he added, winking, and glancing in the direction of the house."What kind of bait shall I get?" I asked, disregarding his reference to Cousin Angeline."Oh, anything. If you could lay hold of a frog, though, we might get a bass or pickerel, maybe; but pork or worms will do for cat and suckers, and they are good enough fishing for me.""All right; I'll be there with what I can find," I answered, as he walked away.Like all good-natured men, Cousin Rolland was very fond of this kind of sport, and without much, if any, reference to the weather, though if favorable, as in the present instance, he never failed to make it an excuse. Fishing, indeed, was the one thing in our lives from which we derived unalloyed pleasure, albeit partaken of surreptitiously and with fear and trembling as regards Cousin Angeline, who looked upon such things as weak and frivolous, and not to be countenanced, much less encouraged.The ground we most frequented was a little inlet below the town, near where the Sacs and Foxes once had their home, though for pickerel and bass we often went as far as the juncture of the two rivers, some way off. Hid away in the little cove I have mentioned, Cousin Rolland kept a boat, which I was privileged to use when I could steal away; and this was much oftener than one would think, because of Cousin Angeline's frequent absences from home in pursuance of her many charitable labors. When Cousin Rolland's work permitted, he would join me, and loosing our little craft, we pulled into the quiet bay in search of such sport as the day afforded. This, however, without hope of any great catch as regards number or quality of fish, but with many idle comments regarding the water and nature of the bait and other things of that kind, such as fishermen are given to.One place in the little inlet, where the water was deep and the bottom black with mud, catfish were always to be found in the shade of the evening, and here at such times we were in the habit of casting our lines; and in regard to this fish, I am bound to say it is not generally held in the high estimation its plastic nature and grave character merit. Moving about all its life in the quietude of the deep, cool water, it comes to the surface without flutter or hurry of expectation, but with a steady pull on the line such as one might expect from its bulk and dignified character. This absence of flurry is misconstrued by the unthinking, and causes many fishermen to underestimate the value and game qualities of the fish. For one must not suppose that it is without feeling or spirit because it makes so little fuss. On the contrary, its grinding teeth and close-set jaws clearly evince its courage and disposition to fight if there was anything to be gained by such waste of energy. "Why struggle against the inevitable!" it seems to say, and in this clearly shows itself superior to all others of its kind, though if one would clearly understand its rage and undying hate he has but to watch its pliant whiskers as they wag and twirl as it emerges from the water, and afterward when lying helpless in the bottom of the boat. Curiously, the head of this fish is in all things too big for its body, but why this is so I have never heard any one venture an opinion. It is as if it were made for some other and bigger animal, but there being none such about, nature had in derision clapped it on this creature, all too small. This unfortunate fish afforded us no end of pleasure, but of our catch, after giving it some examination and remark, we generally ended by slipping it back into the stream, to be caught again, unless, indeed, it was of considerable size and firmness, when if we thought it prudent, we put it aside for Cousin Angeline's table or charitable endeavors.If it happened that we were on hand too early for cat to bite, we fished for suckers, of which there were great numbers about the mouth of the little bay. It is from this harmless fish, you must know, that feeds mainly on succulent grasses, that the good people of Illinois derive their patronymic. Why it, any more than another, should have had so great an honor thrust upon it I do not know, unless, indeed, because of its great prevalence in the sluggish streams of the state. Viewed from the exterior, it is as shapely a fish as one could wish, but inwardly is full of bones; not diffused, indeed, as in the case of other fish, but tied up like faggots or sheaves of wheat, and in such diminutive parcels that no ingenuity of the gourmand is sufficient to evade the delicate morsels. The mouth of the sucker is its striking feature, however, and from this it derives its name. Without teeth and featureless, this interesting fish has a way of puckering its lips into a knot and then pursing them out suddenly, as a child will in derision of its playmates; or perhaps more like a man who, firmly drawing in his lips, as if nothing could ever move him from his set purpose, suddenly relaxes and gives up all without a struggle.Nothing could exceed our delight in snaring the inoffensive creatures that frequented the little inlet, and indeed it is difficult to imagine any form of recreation more refreshing or likely to relax the overstrained nerves of men. This more especially, I may say, in the case of philosophers and others not given to much hardness of muscle. Its restive properties, too, are far greater, I am constrained to believe, than are to be found in the new-fangled reel and more alert game, whereby your nervous system is much overwrought and the fish put to a vexation of spirit every kindly man must deplore.In this way, and as I have described, the days went by until two months had come and gone, when one afternoon, as we sat watching our lines, Cousin Rolland remarked, spitting on his bait a second time:"Your Cousin Angeline has more work to do, Gilbert."This news, while important, as was everything concerning Cousin Angeline, seemingly did not concern me, and so I only answered:"Yes, cousin.""She has a correspondent.""Has she?" I replied, absently, pulling in a bullhead that wriggled on the hook as if some one were tickling it to death."Cousin Angeline's fond of writing and accounts.""This has nothing to do with the charities, though," he answered, reflectively."I suppose letter-writing's strange here?" I replied, throwing the bullhead back into the water and putting on a fresh worm. "But we ought always to write to our kin, and Cousin Angeline's got a lot, you know.""Yes, including papa and the two nephews; but it is not her kin who are writing to her now," he replied, jerking at his line. "Drat it! that's the third worm that turtle has picked off my hook.""Try a grasshopper, cousin; but who else writes to her?" I answered, dropping my hook close to the bottom for cat."A lawyer, of all men.""A lawyer! What can he have to say?" I answered, little interested."Oh, there are many things lawyers can write about, as in this case," he replied. "You would jump out of the boat, too, if you knew his name.""Why, what have I to do with it?" I answered, looking up surprised."Can't you guess who it is?" he answered, eying me sideways."No, unless it's Mr. Lincoln. I don't know any other," I answered."It is not Mr. Lincoln, for he never heard of your cousin. It is some one you dislike, and for good reason," he replied. slowly."Some one I dislike!" I answered, trying to think who he could mean."Yes, but it is all right, I hope. It's—it's—Moth," he answered at last, catching his breath.This piece of news, which he had sought to lead up to with, so much pains, and which if I had not been so dull I would have guessed, I was altogether unprepared to hear. Surely nothing so startling could have been dreamed of, and repeating the name over and over, I sat staring at him, unable to say more."Yes, Moth," he went on, "the rascal! I saw the letter on her table.""What did it say?" I asked, after a while, scarce able to speak."I could only read the name, for your cousin came in at the moment, and made such an ado about my spying into her correspondence that I was frightened. When I told her again and again that I had not read a word the letter contained, she finally appeared to believe what I said, and there the matter dropped.""Do you think he knows I'm here?" I asked, foolishly, feeling sure he did."I am afraid so, else why should he write to her? He must have found out that you stopped off here, and so have traced you. Some one in Rock Island has written him—betrayed you, Gilbert, I fear," he added, coloring, and winding his line absently about the stick he held."Yes, but what am I to do? I'll not let Moth take me. I'd throw myself into the river first," I answered, scarce knowing what I said."No, of course not; and if it turns out that he is really after you, you must go to your Uncle Job. It is only a few hours' ride, and if there is no boat, you can go by the highway. There is no need to act hastily, though. Let us watch and see. Maybe it is all right, after all.""No, they're after me, and I'm not going back to the house," I answered, determined never to come into Moth's clutches."That will never do, Gilbert. We will go home and spy out the ground, as I have said. Moth will never come this far on so uncertain an errand," he added, as if to comfort me."Yes, he will, now that he has found out I'm here and he has some one to help trap me," I answered, thoughtlessly, as I should not have done, because of Cousin Rolland. He, however, took no notice of what I said, but taking up the oars brought us to the shore, and securing the boat we started for home, much cast down in spirits.CHAPTER XXVTHE CONSPIRATORSAt the supper-table Cousin Angeline gave no sign except that she seemed to speak more kindly than was her wont and to put herself out somewhat to add to my comfort. This was so unusual that by and by if she but offered me a dish or smiled, I was ready to cry out with fear. For what more natural, if she were going to give me up, than that she should seek to lull me to sleep meanwhile by little attentions of this nature. Of Moth or his letter she said not a word. Nor did she so much as look at Cousin Rolland, who sat dumb, with his face buried in his plate. Most strange of all, she did not speak of her father or Rudley and James. This alarmed me more than aught else, for such a thing had never happened before that I could remember. Thus I found nothing to comfort me, and supper being over, I after a little while excused myself and went to bed; but sleep did not visit my tired eyes, and at the first peep of day I got up and went into the garden. Here I wandered aimlessly about until summoned to breakfast. Afterward, still more disturbed, my mind conjured up a thousand improbable things, till finally, worn out with loss of sleep and worry, I entered the house, and slipping unobserved into the parlor, lay down on a settle that stood in the corner, where I soon fell asleep. How long I had thus lain I do not know, when I was awakened by voices in the adjoining room. At this I got up, greatly alarmed, for of way of escape there was none, save through the room from whence the voices came. Listening intently, I recognized Cousin Angeline's voice, and then, almost with the same breath, Moth's. Fearing they would enter the room where I lay, I secreted myself, and luckily, as it turned out, for in a moment the parlor door was thrown open and Cousin Angelina and Moth entered."Your letter, Mrs. Love, notifying me of Gilbert being here was delayed, not being properly directed," Moth went on, finishing what he had been saying; "but as soon as it came to hand I wrote you, and have followed as quickly as I could.""I am glad you have come," Cousin Angeline replied, seating herself on the settle behind which I was hidden, "for every day the lad is away from his aunt and her restraining influence is greatly to his disadvantage.""I am sure of that, as indeed my client is," Moth answered, striding back and forth."I have done what I could to correct his morals and abominable habits, and while there is nothing positively wicked about him, he is wayward, and I can plainly see a tendency in him to go to the bad that nothing but strict discipline will overcome. Miss Holmes has probably observed this, too, Mr. Miller?""Moth, if you please, madam. Yes, she has noticed the tendency you speak of, and it is because of it that I have hastened; and now that I am here," he went on, "I will lose no time in having him taken before the court and his aunt appointed guardian. His uncle abandoning him is evidence of his unfitness, so there will be no trouble this time, I apprehend.""Take him before the court! What for, pray? No, no, you will never get him that way," Cousin Angeline answered, in a decided voice."Indeed, madam, why not, may I ask?""There will be delay, and in the end you will be defeated through the efforts of his uncle and, I fear, my husband, whose heart is like melted butter.""Then what am I to do? for have him I will," Moth answered, in his dogged way."Of course; he belongs to his aunt," Cousin Angeline replied. "But why bother the courts with so trifling a thing, Mr. Miller?""Moth, I said, madam, if you please—Moth. I fear I do not quite understand your meaning. How else, pray, can I secure him except through the courts?""It is plain enough. Take him wherever you find him. What have the courts to do with his going back to his aunt? It will be time enough to consult them afterward, I should think," she answered, as if there was no other way."I could handle him easily enough if I could once get him away from here," Moth answered, reflectively. "There is many a way to make a lad keep quiet, or silence inquiry; but how to get him, that is the thing that sticks me.""It is easy enough if you have the courage and tact," she replied, decisively."How, madam?" he asked, surprised."Well, in this way, among others. He is in the habit of stealing off to a little inlet below the town, and quite out of the way of observation. I will give him permission to go there this afternoon, and that will please him, for he would rather idle away his time than do any useful thing. He will go straight to the inlet, and once there you can come upon him unawares, and in a place where he can neither fly nor make himself heard. You must go early, however, and before my husband joins him, as he will be likely to do later, being that way inclined, I am sorry to say.""That is all right as far as it goes, madam, but afterward?" Moth asked, doubtfully."When you have him, capsize his boat, and every one will think he has been drowned. Then if you can't get him away, you are sadly lacking in resources," Cousin Angeline added, grimly, as if to spur him on."Suppose some one should be about. You can't tell," Moth answered, dubiously."There will be no one, for the place is aside, as I have said. No one frequents it except Gilbert and my husband. And once he is in your possession, you can drop down the river to the first town, and from there take him home; and good riddance to the little glutton.""Well, the plan seems all right, madam, and I will try it, and am much obliged to you for your advice, and the hint about overturning the boat," Moth answered, with a chuckle, as he turned toward the door. "Do not fail to have him on hand, though. And about another matter I had nearly forgotten," he added, facing about. "You have been very obliging, and my client directs me to say that she will lose no time in recompensing you for your trouble, and of this you may rest assured.""Thank you; I have not expected any recompense, but only sought to do my duty by the unfortunate lad. However, she can do as she likes in the matter," Cousin Angeline answered, as if greatly pleased at the idea of a reward. "Do not fear in regard to Gilbert, Mr. Miller. He will be on hand, as I have said, or if anything should prevent his going this afternoon, he will be there to-morrow. It would be impossible for him to keep away from the river two days in succession, the little vagabond!""Thank you; and now as the matter is fully understood, I will go and make the necessary arrangements," Moth answered; and bidding her good day, took his departure.When the street door closed behind him and his footsteps could no longer be heard, Cousin Angeline left the room, and putting on her bonnet, followed him, but for what purpose I could not imagine. Nor did it matter, for when she was gone I sprang up, and not losing a moment, gathered such articles of clothing as I could lay hands on, and wrapping them about some biscuits I found in the cupboard, slipped out of the back door and so into the alley. Following this in the direction of the country, I quickly reached the forest, and hiding myself in its depths, soon found my way to the road that led to Appletop.CHAPTER XXVILOST IN THE FORESTHowever much we may desire to retain the unconscious spirit of youth, it vanishes with life's first nipping frost, and although the leaves may not fall in a night, they have no sap or potency left in them. Thus it was with me from that melancholy day when my father went down broken and disheartened. The shell, however, had not yet fallen apart, but from the day that I left Wild Plum childhood vanished, and the weeks were like years in growth and knowledge of worldly things. So that now, at twelve, my youth was already a thing of the past, and not to be considered in any other light. It mattered not that others did not see the change. This pleased me rather than otherwise; but Moth made me less than I was—a mere creature not worthy of thought—and because of it I hated him, and my aunt not less. They threatened all I at present regarded, so fast had I grown in love of things apart; and to shake them off, and in all matters go contrary to their wishes, was now uppermost in the desire of my heart. In this I was again successful, and going forward in the bright sunshine, my heart lightened as I reached the summit of the bluff and looked down on the village I had left behind. Its scattered houses lay bathed in the afternoon's sun, and beyond them the great river, smooth and glistening, stretched away on either side, broken only by the lofty trees that lined its eastern shore. To the south the little inlet, bordered about with willows, where Cousin Rolland and I were wont to go, I could plainly see; and in the heart of the village his house stood out among its neighbors, as if somehow greater than them all. Looking, I imagined I could see Cousin Angeline watching from her door, and beckoning me to return. Knowing it could not be, I yet was none the less alarmed, and turning, ran on, the quicker to hide myself in the forest that lay behind.As I went forward my spirits mounted with every step; for such is ever the elasticity of our young life, its shadows losing themselves in the smallest ray of light. Now again I was free, beneath the spreading trees and overhanging sky, and hurrying on, a frenzy seized me, and I sang and cried aloud like one crazed. Never had the odors of the woods seemed so sweet or the flowers that bordered the road so full of beauty. Hastening, the murmurings of the forest and the sight of the birds flying back and forth across my path, or running forward in semblance of fear, little by little soothed my mind and made me share with them the peaceful sweetness of the surrounding scene. The path I followed, for it was little more, now plain, now obscure, had no set rule, but went here and there, as in the old days of Indian life. If the trees were dense, it went around them, as it did the rocks and hills. So, too, with the slumbering pools and impassable stretches that lay along the way. These it dodged as if in play, leaving Nature's tracing undisturbed as in the grace of its first creation. Each turn in the meanderings of the road, as if in jealousy, hid some mystery of its own. A vista or cluster of trees it might be, or perhaps a distant view of some quiet valley, clothed in vestments of color and asleep in its hazy depths. Thus I went on, disregardful, noting only what was about me, softly beguiled, and after a while silent, plucking at the wild flowers by the way, or bathing my face in their soft perfume. Coming in this mood upon a wild-plum tree that grew beside the road, I gathered its leaves in remembrance of my home, and pressing them to my lips, thrust them into my bosom, wet with my tears. In this way the afternoon passed, the openings in the forest showing more and more the sun hastening to its setting.As I proceeded, idly and unconcerned as to what might be before me, the sound of a galloping horse reached my ear, and turning, I discovered Moth coming toward me at full speed. As I stood gazing, unable to move, scarce to breathe, another horseman, turning into the road from the overhanging shrubbery, followed on. Wondering idly whether he were a confederate or some one in waiting, my senses came back to me, and turning, I plunged without thought into the tangled undergrowth that bordered the road where I stood. As I did so Moth called my name, but not regarding it, I hastened on, seeking only to pursue a course he could neither trace nor follow. When I had gone some distance in this distracted way, the report of a pistol reached me, followed a moment later by another discharge. Startled anew, I hurried on, and faster than before, not knowing what it meant, nor caring, so that I might only hide myself in the forest depths. Thus I ran, always in the direction of the deep woods, making such haste as I could, often falling, but paying little heed if I but made some headway. In this way I came at last upon an opening in the trees, and here I stopped and threw myself upon the ground, worn out with fatigue and the fear that had oppressed me. When I was somewhat rested it was already growing dark, so that I could not retrace my steps had I desired. This, however, I had no thought of doing; the forest hid me, and I welcomed its solitude and deepening shadows as a cover under which I was secure. Looking about me, in the center of the opening a giant sycamore reared its height far above the surrounding trees. Dead and glistening white, its extended limbs, long since fallen, had left an opening to the sky, and about this the trees reached out their arms like beggars seeking alms. On the edge of the cleared space, and as a tracing to the picture, shrubs and wild raspberries grew, and dense, so as to form an impassable barrier save where I stood.Beside the dead tree, whence I could see the overhanging sky, I determined to pass the night; and hastening ere darkness set in, I gathered a handful of berries, and placing them beside my little store of food, sat down in happy contentment to my evening meal. Ere this was finished, darkness had closed in, and fatigued with the events of the day and what had gone before, I stretched my body on the soft grass with the dead sycamore for a pillow. Looking up as I lay outstretched, the sky, which was before clear, had now become overcast, gray, filmy clouds scattering themselves across its face like puffs of steam, and seeming to fly rather than float in the summer air. Nor was this the only change. The treetops, no longer still, gave forth faint murmurings, swaying and curtesying to each other as if in welcome or expectancy of some coming event. The wind rising as I gazed, filled the air with fitful meanings, not unlike fear, and soon flying leaves and bits of wood tossed from the swaying trees, falling on my face, gave notice that the storm was gaining in strength. The moan of the forest as the wind whipped the branches of the trees presently rose into wild uproar, like the mad rush of multitudes of men. Then, as if worn out with the effort, it would die away into pitiful murmurings, only to spring up again a moment later with greater fury than before. Thus as I watched, the storm came on with ever-increasing tumult and confusion of sounds, but orderly and in sequence, like a great orchestra getting under way. The whirl and roar of the wind as the rising tempest swept the impeding forest in no wise disturbed my repose, but soothed, rather, both my body and mind. Now again I was once more at Wild Plum, and listening, as in childhood, to the woods and the voices of the air and the night.No feature of Nature's storehouse, it may be said, is so full of grandeur and expectancy as a storm in the forest. A scourge, maybe, but not in the sense of punishment, but of playfulness and reviving life! A carnival of the air, a frolicking of the atoms, where moderation gives place to fantasies and all the world joins in the fullness of life! Many, I know, do not look upon such things with any pleasure, but for the most part all such are city born, and not used to wide expanses where the wind is free to work its will, nor cumbered about with the devices of men that serve to stay its strength and hinder its progress. To such, storms are fraught with direful happenings, in which the wind and lightning are dreaded agents; but not so do those who are country bred look upon the tempest. Nor did I, but lay with upturned face, harkening to each sound as if it conveyed some form of speech, which I have no doubt it did.In a little while, and as couriers might carry the news, flashes of lightning shone through the trees and spun out across the open sky until presently the wide expanse of heaven was ablaze with the reflected light. Counting from these to the thunder that followed, I kept track in idle curiosity of the storm as it approached. Nor was it long delayed, but came on, preceded by flurries of rain, which the wind, catching up, whipped into shreds of mist and spray. At last, as if satisfied with the preparation made for its coming, the storm burst, and not lightly, as it sometimes does, but deluging the earth with water and overspreading the sky with masses of phosphorescent light and deep reverberating thunder. Rising to my feet, I sought shelter behind the great tree, harkening to the wild roar of the tempest as it swept past, echoing and reëchoing through the forest like the beating of the ocean on some rockbound coast. In the midst of this, and confusing, a sound as of booming cannon caught my ear. Listening, I thought it the cry of a wild beast, but in a moment, catching the direction more clearly, found it came from the hollow of the great tree beside which I stood. Thus the night wore on, the rain after a while dying away, but the wind, as if in recompense, increasing each moment in violence, its wild shrieking and the mad rush of the trees as they bent this way and that rising and falling like no sound that man can describe or imitate. For in such things Nature claims its sole prerogative, and strive as we may, we cannot in any way mimic its voices or varying moods.Entertained as one bred in the city might be at a play, I neither sought nor desired sleep; but as the storm reached its climax a tremor shook my frame and fear laid hold of me, as if some great and pressing danger threatened. Of what nature, however, or from whence, I could not tell, for in no way were the sounds that reached me different from those I had heard before. What was it, then? Some instinct of life that cried out within me, or a voice of the night that bade me beware! Listening, I could distinguish nothing, nor make aught of my fear. Weak and scarce able to stand, I reached out my hand to steady myself against the great tree, and doing so, found it rocking in the storm like a gigantic pendulum turned bottom side up. This it was, then, that had caused my tremblings. Its silent movements, unnoticed in the darkness of the night, had yet in some mysterious way conveyed a note of warning, and I, as if it were some kindred spirit, had felt its vibrations, and so was filled with fear. Conscious the tree was about to fall, I drew back, but unable to make out the direction it would take, I stood still, not knowing which way to turn. At last, guided by the storm, I sprang to one side, and then, as if only awaiting my movements, the great tree, leaning more and more, fell with a mighty crash on the spot where I had stood. Outstretched before me, it lay like some huge animal, its glistening trunk towering far above my head. Seeing it, a cry of terror burst from my lips, and throwing myself on my face, I gave thanks to God for my escape from death.Rising to my feet after a while, I looked about to find the storm, as if only awaiting the overthrow of the great tree, had died away, and the moon coming out full and clear, cast its peaceful light over the silent glade. Seeking some spot not drenched with rain where I might pass the night, the hollow of the fallen tree, like some great cavern partly lighted, loomed before me. Here I determined to find a bed, and entering its secure depths, stretched my weary body on its smooth surface, and in a moment was lost in dreams of Constance and Little Sandy.
CHAPTER XXIII
COUSIN ANGELINE
Uncle Job's departure made me very unhappy, and when I could no longer see a trace of the boat that carried him away, my heart grew sick and tears started in my eyes at the thought of my abandoned state. Cousin Rolland, however, scarce giving me time to breathe, took me here and there about the little town, keeping up the while such a flow of small talk that in a little while I found myself joining with the greatest heartiness in all he said and did. When it was time for luncheon we went to his home, but not directly, for making some excuse, he left me a little way off, going on alone. This I thought very proper, I being a stranger to his wife and the circumstances of my coming peculiar. When, however, he did not return for an hour or more, I became uneasy, and some further time elapsing, was filled with fear, not being able to understand the cause of his prolonged absence. At last, to my great relief, he returned, and without explaining anything, began anew to assure me of the delight with which Cousin Angeline entered into our plans and the desire she had to know her young kinsman. Thus relieved of any anxiety, for I was never of a suspicious disposition, I went on with him to his home in the greatest possible ease of mind. Nothing in Cousin Angeline's manner tended to disturb this feeling when I was presented to her. Nor afterward, indeed, at luncheon, for she was, on occasion and when that way inclined, a woman of more than ordinary tact and dignity. Much younger than Cousin Rolland, she lacked his rosiness of color and fullness of figure, he being very red and plump of build, while she was tall and of somewhat meager frame. Her eyes, if I may attempt to tell you how she looked, were a light blue, and save when at times tinged with a steeliness as of ice, were rather attractive than otherwise. Her mouth I thought remarkable for its great firmness, for her lips offered no more resistance to the eye than the edge of a knife-blade. Her nose, too, was noticeable, being finely formed and in all things perfect, until at last, approaching the end, the material giving out, or something else happening, what remained had been squeezed into a point somewhat too sharp for comeliness, and so left. However, I did not observe these things at the time, or if I did, only vaguely, being young and generally ignorant in respect to the importance of such matters in our daily life.
The luncheon was light, but every way fit for abstemious people, though much unlike what I had been used to at Wild Plum, where there was profusion verging on waste in all such things. However, being hungry, I did not regard it particularly, but ate with great heartiness, paying little attention to what was going on about me. Once indeed, as the meal progressed, happening to glance in Cousin Angeline's direction, I thought I detected some show of uneasiness at the inroads I was making on her bread and butter, but not believing such a thing possible, I gave it no further attention. Nothing of any account was said at the table, except that Cousin Angeline showed much curiosity concerning my old home, and particularly Aunt Jane and her attorney, Moth. This I thought very kind, and answered her inquiries with great fullness, being desirous above all things to please her. Seeing this, she smiled encouragingly, as if much admiring my amiability and frankness of speech.
After luncheon Cousin Rolland did not stop, but bidding me good by hurried away, and this abruptly, as if greatly pressed for time. Being thus left alone with Cousin Angeline, and she seeming to forget I was there, I presently went out to inspect the garden, some glimpses of which I had obtained from the window. Of gravel and cleanliness there was no end, but of flowers no great profusion or variety, and such as there were, I thought, had a stiff, aggressive look, as if challenging me to come near or touch them. Altogether they had the air of soldiers on duty, and because of too strict discipline or for some other good reason, had lost something of the glow and comfort of outdoor life. Of flowers, however, I had never as a youth taken much account, not being able to understand them, nor, indeed, make them thrive, as my mother could without thought. Because of this I was inclined to look on what I now saw as something out of my line, and therefore not to be lightly criticised. In this frame of mind I went on to where a mild-eyed cow stood watching me curiously, as cows will when strangers approach. Not having any morsel with which to tempt her palate, I stroked her face for a while, and then turned to the little colonies of chickens that busied themselves near by. These I saluted as old friends, being much inclined to their cheerful companionship, carried on as it always is with so much small talk and pleasurable excitement. Thus being once more in their company, I fell into an attitude of attention and interest, to which they at once responded by much clucking and diligent search after the small particles of food the yard contained. These old friends I came in time to know very well, and with great liking, because of their simple ways; but of their product, which I looked forward to with interest, as young people of good appetite will, only a small portion ever found its way to the table. The reason of this, as I learned at a later day, was that the greater part was put aside and converted by Cousin Angeline, with other small perquisites of the house, into a secret fund for her own particular behoof and divertisement. This properly enough. However, it did not come fully to light until after Cousin Rolland's death, some years later, when the fund thus laid away came in the nick of time to enable her to live on in great contentment and ease of life. This until one day a clergyman of studious habits coming along and being desirous to marry, yet not having the time to examine the goods he was getting, or being ignorant in respect to such matters, he took her out of hand, as Cousin Rolland had done before him. However, these things being then unknown, as I say, I confidently looked forward to a plentiful supply of butter and eggs, as in the old time at Wild Plum, though mistakenly, as it appeared. When the scantiness of fare in this respect became apparent, I did not much regard it, I am bound to say, being always stout of appetite for such things as fell in my way, thinking little of what was lacking. Indeed, I had heard it said, and wisely, that we were ever inclined to eat more than was good for us. This saying was often on my Aunt Jane's lips, and she, living up to her doctrine, was in everything healthy and well preserved. So that if sometimes on getting up from Cousin Angelina's table I felt that I could have eaten more, remembering my aunt and her rugged health, I was fain to think it for the best. Such reflections of the young, however apt, are more natural to mature folk, being seasoned in the latter case with a philosophy of life that the former lack. So that if abstinence is not always accepted by children with good grace, older people and relatives, however remote, should make allowance for the circumstance.
On the evening of my arrival, tea was delayed by Cousin Rolland's not coming at the time expected, and when he reached home I observed an unsteadiness of limb and height of voice that I had not noticed before. Cousin Angeline also remarked the change, and harshly, by a word that, out of respect for Cousin Rolland, I may not repeat. When the meal was over, and it was not such, I am bound to say, as to cause one to lay awake because of too much fullness, we sat about in great discomfort of mind, Cousin Rolland making pretense of reading and Cousin Angeline busying herself with some accounts that lay docketed in a precise way on her table. These, I learned later, had to do with the many charitable matters in which she was interested, and to their great and lasting good, so it was claimed. Her contributions toward work of this nature, however, were rather in the way of supervision and needed advice than in the giving of more tangible things. In new and unorganized societies such duties, she was often at pains to point out, were much more necessary and difficult of procurement than the mere giving of money. Nevertheless, in accepting offices requiring this disparity of service she did so without jealousy or protest, her desire to help, she would say, leading her to act with cheerful zeal, leaving the lesser labor of providing funds and supplies to those competent in that direction.
When it was time to retire for the night, Cousin Angeline made much of the cozy nook she had arranged for me, and indeed it quite exceeded anything of the kind I had ever seen. The couch, which answered for both bed and lounge, was put to one side of the kitchen, and so deftly that lying down my feet just missed the stove at one end, while my head barely escaped contact with the cupboard at the other. Upon trial I found the bed hard and the clothing scant, but it being summer this last I thought not worth noticing. Cousin Rolland, who had by this time regained his former composure, eyed the bed with great disfavor, but being in disgrace, did not venture further than to inquire why she had not given me a room, there being one unoccupied. To this Cousin Angeline replied by look rather than words, but on the whole giving out that it was unprepared, and in any event hardly suitable for such occupancy, being in the nature of a guest-chamber. As I made no remark, but began resolutely to take off my clothes, being tired with the day's doings, nothing more was said on the subject. Bidding me good night, they went away, leaving me in darkness, save that, happily and as of good omen, plenty of light came from the full moon shining through the open window at my side. The bed, to my young and pliant bones, seemed at first not so hard, but later, the edge being taken off my weariness, I awoke to find it different; but never having set much store by such things when living in greater luxury of life, and being still tired, I turned my face to the wall, and was soon lost in sleep.
My life the first day was in no particular different throughout my stay with Cousin Angeline, except such slight change as going to Cousin Rolland's office or loitering by the river, which latter ever drew me, by reason of its great and masterful ways. Unhappily for me, however, my habits, and more particularly my manners, not being suited to city life, soon attracted the attention and reproof of Cousin Angeline. In this connection, and that I might improve the faster, she cited as examples for me to study her orphaned nephews, Rudley and James, whose bringing-up she had supervised, and to whom she was in all things greatly attached. Her reference to these young gentlemen, whom I was destined never to see, were given, too, with much strength of utterance as time went on and the need of reproof became more and more apparent. For Cousin Angeline was not lacking in force of speech, as she was fond of saying, when good might be accomplished thereby. Her frequent reference to Rudley and James made them a source of anxiety to me at first, and later a cause of fear and shame, for however strenuously I sought to follow their example, I could never by any chance come near to them, even in the smallest particular of their lives. In the larger things my failure was more marked, but not without hopefulness at first. Thus, when Cousin Angeline told me it had never been necessary to bribe Rudley and James to read the Bible, and that even as children they loved to bury their faces in its sacred pages, I strove to become equally interested. So, too, in regard to keeping the Sabbath and absence of desire to amuse myself on that sacred day. To them, she was wont to say, the hum of the Sunday-school was like the music of the harps; and upright and alert, with attentive faces, no fragment of prayer or sermon ever escaped their hungry ears. Of texts they could repeat every one they had heard, down to the very last, but I, when questioned, could not for the life of me think of one. It thus fell out that the feet of Rudley and James, being fixed on solid ground, all else came easy. It was a second nature to them to be respectful and prompt at meals, sparing in the use of jam, and ever regardful of those about them. Nor could they tell a lie, or come to the table save with shining faces.
Such, unfortunately for me, because of my shortcomings, were Rudley and James, in all things upright and without shred or raveling of any kind. When I came to know how perfect they were, I never through vanity sought to equal them in any great thing, but struggled only to pattern after them in smaller matters, but fruitlessly, as it turned out. Nor was I alone in these efforts, not indeed to achieve preferment, but bear equality in some immaterial thing. For Cousin Rolland came in with like scantiness of resource in comparison with Cousin Angeline's dear father, who in every detail of life, so it appeared, was a model of sobriety and goodly thrift. These comparisons, however unpalatable, Cousin Rolland and I came in time to bear with patience; nay, to look forward to with equanimity, as one may become accustomed to any disquieting thing in life. Nor did we ever question anything she said, for Cousin Angeline was not a woman to argue with, much less to contradict in matters about which she had made up her mind. If, indeed, one were so foolish, she had a way of conjuring up something in her own experience that would utterly and forever upset all your arguments, however plausible they might appear. This trait, however, we often notice in good men and women that we know, and so I do wrong, perhaps, to speak of it as peculiar to her.
In all Cousin Angeline's references to Rudley and James, the former, I came to remark, was ever named first. Whether this was because he was older or the more upright of life I never knew—or if I did, have forgotten.
Thus they passed, and to my good, I hope; but in the long years that have elapsed since that far-off time I have had, as you may suppose, many curious reflections regarding them; not, indeed, in the way of speculative desire for nearer acquaintance, but rather as to how they fell out in the end—whether they lived on to old age, looked up to and honored by the world, or relaxing because of too great strain, finally fell by the wayside in sheer contrariness of spirit, and so ended their lives in shame, and different from what might have been hoped. Of these details and others of interest I shall now never know, for the connecting-threads by which knowledge might have come to me were long since severed. Thus it has been that at the end of all my cogitations concerning them, I have ever been compelled, and to my great regret, to bid them a new and reluctant farewell.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE FISHERS
"Fish'll bite their own tails on a day like this, Gilbert, and will go crazy at sight of a grasshopper," Cousin Rolland remarked one afternoon as we came out from luncheon and were well clear of the house.
"Yes," I answered, looking up at the sky, which was overcast with gray clouds.
"What do you say, then, to a little diversion—after office hours?" he asked, coaxingly, as if seeking to influence me.
"I'd like it," I answered, which he knew well enough.
"Well, then, suppose you be at the inlet at four—that is, if your cousin can spare you," he added, winking, and glancing in the direction of the house.
"What kind of bait shall I get?" I asked, disregarding his reference to Cousin Angeline.
"Oh, anything. If you could lay hold of a frog, though, we might get a bass or pickerel, maybe; but pork or worms will do for cat and suckers, and they are good enough fishing for me."
"All right; I'll be there with what I can find," I answered, as he walked away.
Like all good-natured men, Cousin Rolland was very fond of this kind of sport, and without much, if any, reference to the weather, though if favorable, as in the present instance, he never failed to make it an excuse. Fishing, indeed, was the one thing in our lives from which we derived unalloyed pleasure, albeit partaken of surreptitiously and with fear and trembling as regards Cousin Angeline, who looked upon such things as weak and frivolous, and not to be countenanced, much less encouraged.
The ground we most frequented was a little inlet below the town, near where the Sacs and Foxes once had their home, though for pickerel and bass we often went as far as the juncture of the two rivers, some way off. Hid away in the little cove I have mentioned, Cousin Rolland kept a boat, which I was privileged to use when I could steal away; and this was much oftener than one would think, because of Cousin Angeline's frequent absences from home in pursuance of her many charitable labors. When Cousin Rolland's work permitted, he would join me, and loosing our little craft, we pulled into the quiet bay in search of such sport as the day afforded. This, however, without hope of any great catch as regards number or quality of fish, but with many idle comments regarding the water and nature of the bait and other things of that kind, such as fishermen are given to.
One place in the little inlet, where the water was deep and the bottom black with mud, catfish were always to be found in the shade of the evening, and here at such times we were in the habit of casting our lines; and in regard to this fish, I am bound to say it is not generally held in the high estimation its plastic nature and grave character merit. Moving about all its life in the quietude of the deep, cool water, it comes to the surface without flutter or hurry of expectation, but with a steady pull on the line such as one might expect from its bulk and dignified character. This absence of flurry is misconstrued by the unthinking, and causes many fishermen to underestimate the value and game qualities of the fish. For one must not suppose that it is without feeling or spirit because it makes so little fuss. On the contrary, its grinding teeth and close-set jaws clearly evince its courage and disposition to fight if there was anything to be gained by such waste of energy. "Why struggle against the inevitable!" it seems to say, and in this clearly shows itself superior to all others of its kind, though if one would clearly understand its rage and undying hate he has but to watch its pliant whiskers as they wag and twirl as it emerges from the water, and afterward when lying helpless in the bottom of the boat. Curiously, the head of this fish is in all things too big for its body, but why this is so I have never heard any one venture an opinion. It is as if it were made for some other and bigger animal, but there being none such about, nature had in derision clapped it on this creature, all too small. This unfortunate fish afforded us no end of pleasure, but of our catch, after giving it some examination and remark, we generally ended by slipping it back into the stream, to be caught again, unless, indeed, it was of considerable size and firmness, when if we thought it prudent, we put it aside for Cousin Angeline's table or charitable endeavors.
If it happened that we were on hand too early for cat to bite, we fished for suckers, of which there were great numbers about the mouth of the little bay. It is from this harmless fish, you must know, that feeds mainly on succulent grasses, that the good people of Illinois derive their patronymic. Why it, any more than another, should have had so great an honor thrust upon it I do not know, unless, indeed, because of its great prevalence in the sluggish streams of the state. Viewed from the exterior, it is as shapely a fish as one could wish, but inwardly is full of bones; not diffused, indeed, as in the case of other fish, but tied up like faggots or sheaves of wheat, and in such diminutive parcels that no ingenuity of the gourmand is sufficient to evade the delicate morsels. The mouth of the sucker is its striking feature, however, and from this it derives its name. Without teeth and featureless, this interesting fish has a way of puckering its lips into a knot and then pursing them out suddenly, as a child will in derision of its playmates; or perhaps more like a man who, firmly drawing in his lips, as if nothing could ever move him from his set purpose, suddenly relaxes and gives up all without a struggle.
Nothing could exceed our delight in snaring the inoffensive creatures that frequented the little inlet, and indeed it is difficult to imagine any form of recreation more refreshing or likely to relax the overstrained nerves of men. This more especially, I may say, in the case of philosophers and others not given to much hardness of muscle. Its restive properties, too, are far greater, I am constrained to believe, than are to be found in the new-fangled reel and more alert game, whereby your nervous system is much overwrought and the fish put to a vexation of spirit every kindly man must deplore.
In this way, and as I have described, the days went by until two months had come and gone, when one afternoon, as we sat watching our lines, Cousin Rolland remarked, spitting on his bait a second time:
"Your Cousin Angeline has more work to do, Gilbert."
This news, while important, as was everything concerning Cousin Angeline, seemingly did not concern me, and so I only answered:
"Yes, cousin."
"She has a correspondent."
"Has she?" I replied, absently, pulling in a bullhead that wriggled on the hook as if some one were tickling it to death.
"Cousin Angeline's fond of writing and accounts."
"This has nothing to do with the charities, though," he answered, reflectively.
"I suppose letter-writing's strange here?" I replied, throwing the bullhead back into the water and putting on a fresh worm. "But we ought always to write to our kin, and Cousin Angeline's got a lot, you know."
"Yes, including papa and the two nephews; but it is not her kin who are writing to her now," he replied, jerking at his line. "Drat it! that's the third worm that turtle has picked off my hook."
"Try a grasshopper, cousin; but who else writes to her?" I answered, dropping my hook close to the bottom for cat.
"A lawyer, of all men."
"A lawyer! What can he have to say?" I answered, little interested.
"Oh, there are many things lawyers can write about, as in this case," he replied. "You would jump out of the boat, too, if you knew his name."
"Why, what have I to do with it?" I answered, looking up surprised.
"Can't you guess who it is?" he answered, eying me sideways.
"No, unless it's Mr. Lincoln. I don't know any other," I answered.
"It is not Mr. Lincoln, for he never heard of your cousin. It is some one you dislike, and for good reason," he replied. slowly.
"Some one I dislike!" I answered, trying to think who he could mean.
"Yes, but it is all right, I hope. It's—it's—Moth," he answered at last, catching his breath.
This piece of news, which he had sought to lead up to with, so much pains, and which if I had not been so dull I would have guessed, I was altogether unprepared to hear. Surely nothing so startling could have been dreamed of, and repeating the name over and over, I sat staring at him, unable to say more.
"Yes, Moth," he went on, "the rascal! I saw the letter on her table."
"What did it say?" I asked, after a while, scarce able to speak.
"I could only read the name, for your cousin came in at the moment, and made such an ado about my spying into her correspondence that I was frightened. When I told her again and again that I had not read a word the letter contained, she finally appeared to believe what I said, and there the matter dropped."
"Do you think he knows I'm here?" I asked, foolishly, feeling sure he did.
"I am afraid so, else why should he write to her? He must have found out that you stopped off here, and so have traced you. Some one in Rock Island has written him—betrayed you, Gilbert, I fear," he added, coloring, and winding his line absently about the stick he held.
"Yes, but what am I to do? I'll not let Moth take me. I'd throw myself into the river first," I answered, scarce knowing what I said.
"No, of course not; and if it turns out that he is really after you, you must go to your Uncle Job. It is only a few hours' ride, and if there is no boat, you can go by the highway. There is no need to act hastily, though. Let us watch and see. Maybe it is all right, after all."
"No, they're after me, and I'm not going back to the house," I answered, determined never to come into Moth's clutches.
"That will never do, Gilbert. We will go home and spy out the ground, as I have said. Moth will never come this far on so uncertain an errand," he added, as if to comfort me.
"Yes, he will, now that he has found out I'm here and he has some one to help trap me," I answered, thoughtlessly, as I should not have done, because of Cousin Rolland. He, however, took no notice of what I said, but taking up the oars brought us to the shore, and securing the boat we started for home, much cast down in spirits.
CHAPTER XXV
THE CONSPIRATORS
At the supper-table Cousin Angeline gave no sign except that she seemed to speak more kindly than was her wont and to put herself out somewhat to add to my comfort. This was so unusual that by and by if she but offered me a dish or smiled, I was ready to cry out with fear. For what more natural, if she were going to give me up, than that she should seek to lull me to sleep meanwhile by little attentions of this nature. Of Moth or his letter she said not a word. Nor did she so much as look at Cousin Rolland, who sat dumb, with his face buried in his plate. Most strange of all, she did not speak of her father or Rudley and James. This alarmed me more than aught else, for such a thing had never happened before that I could remember. Thus I found nothing to comfort me, and supper being over, I after a little while excused myself and went to bed; but sleep did not visit my tired eyes, and at the first peep of day I got up and went into the garden. Here I wandered aimlessly about until summoned to breakfast. Afterward, still more disturbed, my mind conjured up a thousand improbable things, till finally, worn out with loss of sleep and worry, I entered the house, and slipping unobserved into the parlor, lay down on a settle that stood in the corner, where I soon fell asleep. How long I had thus lain I do not know, when I was awakened by voices in the adjoining room. At this I got up, greatly alarmed, for of way of escape there was none, save through the room from whence the voices came. Listening intently, I recognized Cousin Angeline's voice, and then, almost with the same breath, Moth's. Fearing they would enter the room where I lay, I secreted myself, and luckily, as it turned out, for in a moment the parlor door was thrown open and Cousin Angelina and Moth entered.
"Your letter, Mrs. Love, notifying me of Gilbert being here was delayed, not being properly directed," Moth went on, finishing what he had been saying; "but as soon as it came to hand I wrote you, and have followed as quickly as I could."
"I am glad you have come," Cousin Angeline replied, seating herself on the settle behind which I was hidden, "for every day the lad is away from his aunt and her restraining influence is greatly to his disadvantage."
"I am sure of that, as indeed my client is," Moth answered, striding back and forth.
"I have done what I could to correct his morals and abominable habits, and while there is nothing positively wicked about him, he is wayward, and I can plainly see a tendency in him to go to the bad that nothing but strict discipline will overcome. Miss Holmes has probably observed this, too, Mr. Miller?"
"Moth, if you please, madam. Yes, she has noticed the tendency you speak of, and it is because of it that I have hastened; and now that I am here," he went on, "I will lose no time in having him taken before the court and his aunt appointed guardian. His uncle abandoning him is evidence of his unfitness, so there will be no trouble this time, I apprehend."
"Take him before the court! What for, pray? No, no, you will never get him that way," Cousin Angeline answered, in a decided voice.
"Indeed, madam, why not, may I ask?"
"There will be delay, and in the end you will be defeated through the efforts of his uncle and, I fear, my husband, whose heart is like melted butter."
"Then what am I to do? for have him I will," Moth answered, in his dogged way.
"Of course; he belongs to his aunt," Cousin Angeline replied. "But why bother the courts with so trifling a thing, Mr. Miller?"
"Moth, I said, madam, if you please—Moth. I fear I do not quite understand your meaning. How else, pray, can I secure him except through the courts?"
"It is plain enough. Take him wherever you find him. What have the courts to do with his going back to his aunt? It will be time enough to consult them afterward, I should think," she answered, as if there was no other way.
"I could handle him easily enough if I could once get him away from here," Moth answered, reflectively. "There is many a way to make a lad keep quiet, or silence inquiry; but how to get him, that is the thing that sticks me."
"It is easy enough if you have the courage and tact," she replied, decisively.
"How, madam?" he asked, surprised.
"Well, in this way, among others. He is in the habit of stealing off to a little inlet below the town, and quite out of the way of observation. I will give him permission to go there this afternoon, and that will please him, for he would rather idle away his time than do any useful thing. He will go straight to the inlet, and once there you can come upon him unawares, and in a place where he can neither fly nor make himself heard. You must go early, however, and before my husband joins him, as he will be likely to do later, being that way inclined, I am sorry to say."
"That is all right as far as it goes, madam, but afterward?" Moth asked, doubtfully.
"When you have him, capsize his boat, and every one will think he has been drowned. Then if you can't get him away, you are sadly lacking in resources," Cousin Angeline added, grimly, as if to spur him on.
"Suppose some one should be about. You can't tell," Moth answered, dubiously.
"There will be no one, for the place is aside, as I have said. No one frequents it except Gilbert and my husband. And once he is in your possession, you can drop down the river to the first town, and from there take him home; and good riddance to the little glutton."
"Well, the plan seems all right, madam, and I will try it, and am much obliged to you for your advice, and the hint about overturning the boat," Moth answered, with a chuckle, as he turned toward the door. "Do not fail to have him on hand, though. And about another matter I had nearly forgotten," he added, facing about. "You have been very obliging, and my client directs me to say that she will lose no time in recompensing you for your trouble, and of this you may rest assured."
"Thank you; I have not expected any recompense, but only sought to do my duty by the unfortunate lad. However, she can do as she likes in the matter," Cousin Angeline answered, as if greatly pleased at the idea of a reward. "Do not fear in regard to Gilbert, Mr. Miller. He will be on hand, as I have said, or if anything should prevent his going this afternoon, he will be there to-morrow. It would be impossible for him to keep away from the river two days in succession, the little vagabond!"
"Thank you; and now as the matter is fully understood, I will go and make the necessary arrangements," Moth answered; and bidding her good day, took his departure.
When the street door closed behind him and his footsteps could no longer be heard, Cousin Angeline left the room, and putting on her bonnet, followed him, but for what purpose I could not imagine. Nor did it matter, for when she was gone I sprang up, and not losing a moment, gathered such articles of clothing as I could lay hands on, and wrapping them about some biscuits I found in the cupboard, slipped out of the back door and so into the alley. Following this in the direction of the country, I quickly reached the forest, and hiding myself in its depths, soon found my way to the road that led to Appletop.
CHAPTER XXVI
LOST IN THE FOREST
However much we may desire to retain the unconscious spirit of youth, it vanishes with life's first nipping frost, and although the leaves may not fall in a night, they have no sap or potency left in them. Thus it was with me from that melancholy day when my father went down broken and disheartened. The shell, however, had not yet fallen apart, but from the day that I left Wild Plum childhood vanished, and the weeks were like years in growth and knowledge of worldly things. So that now, at twelve, my youth was already a thing of the past, and not to be considered in any other light. It mattered not that others did not see the change. This pleased me rather than otherwise; but Moth made me less than I was—a mere creature not worthy of thought—and because of it I hated him, and my aunt not less. They threatened all I at present regarded, so fast had I grown in love of things apart; and to shake them off, and in all matters go contrary to their wishes, was now uppermost in the desire of my heart. In this I was again successful, and going forward in the bright sunshine, my heart lightened as I reached the summit of the bluff and looked down on the village I had left behind. Its scattered houses lay bathed in the afternoon's sun, and beyond them the great river, smooth and glistening, stretched away on either side, broken only by the lofty trees that lined its eastern shore. To the south the little inlet, bordered about with willows, where Cousin Rolland and I were wont to go, I could plainly see; and in the heart of the village his house stood out among its neighbors, as if somehow greater than them all. Looking, I imagined I could see Cousin Angeline watching from her door, and beckoning me to return. Knowing it could not be, I yet was none the less alarmed, and turning, ran on, the quicker to hide myself in the forest that lay behind.
As I went forward my spirits mounted with every step; for such is ever the elasticity of our young life, its shadows losing themselves in the smallest ray of light. Now again I was free, beneath the spreading trees and overhanging sky, and hurrying on, a frenzy seized me, and I sang and cried aloud like one crazed. Never had the odors of the woods seemed so sweet or the flowers that bordered the road so full of beauty. Hastening, the murmurings of the forest and the sight of the birds flying back and forth across my path, or running forward in semblance of fear, little by little soothed my mind and made me share with them the peaceful sweetness of the surrounding scene. The path I followed, for it was little more, now plain, now obscure, had no set rule, but went here and there, as in the old days of Indian life. If the trees were dense, it went around them, as it did the rocks and hills. So, too, with the slumbering pools and impassable stretches that lay along the way. These it dodged as if in play, leaving Nature's tracing undisturbed as in the grace of its first creation. Each turn in the meanderings of the road, as if in jealousy, hid some mystery of its own. A vista or cluster of trees it might be, or perhaps a distant view of some quiet valley, clothed in vestments of color and asleep in its hazy depths. Thus I went on, disregardful, noting only what was about me, softly beguiled, and after a while silent, plucking at the wild flowers by the way, or bathing my face in their soft perfume. Coming in this mood upon a wild-plum tree that grew beside the road, I gathered its leaves in remembrance of my home, and pressing them to my lips, thrust them into my bosom, wet with my tears. In this way the afternoon passed, the openings in the forest showing more and more the sun hastening to its setting.
As I proceeded, idly and unconcerned as to what might be before me, the sound of a galloping horse reached my ear, and turning, I discovered Moth coming toward me at full speed. As I stood gazing, unable to move, scarce to breathe, another horseman, turning into the road from the overhanging shrubbery, followed on. Wondering idly whether he were a confederate or some one in waiting, my senses came back to me, and turning, I plunged without thought into the tangled undergrowth that bordered the road where I stood. As I did so Moth called my name, but not regarding it, I hastened on, seeking only to pursue a course he could neither trace nor follow. When I had gone some distance in this distracted way, the report of a pistol reached me, followed a moment later by another discharge. Startled anew, I hurried on, and faster than before, not knowing what it meant, nor caring, so that I might only hide myself in the forest depths. Thus I ran, always in the direction of the deep woods, making such haste as I could, often falling, but paying little heed if I but made some headway. In this way I came at last upon an opening in the trees, and here I stopped and threw myself upon the ground, worn out with fatigue and the fear that had oppressed me. When I was somewhat rested it was already growing dark, so that I could not retrace my steps had I desired. This, however, I had no thought of doing; the forest hid me, and I welcomed its solitude and deepening shadows as a cover under which I was secure. Looking about me, in the center of the opening a giant sycamore reared its height far above the surrounding trees. Dead and glistening white, its extended limbs, long since fallen, had left an opening to the sky, and about this the trees reached out their arms like beggars seeking alms. On the edge of the cleared space, and as a tracing to the picture, shrubs and wild raspberries grew, and dense, so as to form an impassable barrier save where I stood.
Beside the dead tree, whence I could see the overhanging sky, I determined to pass the night; and hastening ere darkness set in, I gathered a handful of berries, and placing them beside my little store of food, sat down in happy contentment to my evening meal. Ere this was finished, darkness had closed in, and fatigued with the events of the day and what had gone before, I stretched my body on the soft grass with the dead sycamore for a pillow. Looking up as I lay outstretched, the sky, which was before clear, had now become overcast, gray, filmy clouds scattering themselves across its face like puffs of steam, and seeming to fly rather than float in the summer air. Nor was this the only change. The treetops, no longer still, gave forth faint murmurings, swaying and curtesying to each other as if in welcome or expectancy of some coming event. The wind rising as I gazed, filled the air with fitful meanings, not unlike fear, and soon flying leaves and bits of wood tossed from the swaying trees, falling on my face, gave notice that the storm was gaining in strength. The moan of the forest as the wind whipped the branches of the trees presently rose into wild uproar, like the mad rush of multitudes of men. Then, as if worn out with the effort, it would die away into pitiful murmurings, only to spring up again a moment later with greater fury than before. Thus as I watched, the storm came on with ever-increasing tumult and confusion of sounds, but orderly and in sequence, like a great orchestra getting under way. The whirl and roar of the wind as the rising tempest swept the impeding forest in no wise disturbed my repose, but soothed, rather, both my body and mind. Now again I was once more at Wild Plum, and listening, as in childhood, to the woods and the voices of the air and the night.
No feature of Nature's storehouse, it may be said, is so full of grandeur and expectancy as a storm in the forest. A scourge, maybe, but not in the sense of punishment, but of playfulness and reviving life! A carnival of the air, a frolicking of the atoms, where moderation gives place to fantasies and all the world joins in the fullness of life! Many, I know, do not look upon such things with any pleasure, but for the most part all such are city born, and not used to wide expanses where the wind is free to work its will, nor cumbered about with the devices of men that serve to stay its strength and hinder its progress. To such, storms are fraught with direful happenings, in which the wind and lightning are dreaded agents; but not so do those who are country bred look upon the tempest. Nor did I, but lay with upturned face, harkening to each sound as if it conveyed some form of speech, which I have no doubt it did.
In a little while, and as couriers might carry the news, flashes of lightning shone through the trees and spun out across the open sky until presently the wide expanse of heaven was ablaze with the reflected light. Counting from these to the thunder that followed, I kept track in idle curiosity of the storm as it approached. Nor was it long delayed, but came on, preceded by flurries of rain, which the wind, catching up, whipped into shreds of mist and spray. At last, as if satisfied with the preparation made for its coming, the storm burst, and not lightly, as it sometimes does, but deluging the earth with water and overspreading the sky with masses of phosphorescent light and deep reverberating thunder. Rising to my feet, I sought shelter behind the great tree, harkening to the wild roar of the tempest as it swept past, echoing and reëchoing through the forest like the beating of the ocean on some rockbound coast. In the midst of this, and confusing, a sound as of booming cannon caught my ear. Listening, I thought it the cry of a wild beast, but in a moment, catching the direction more clearly, found it came from the hollow of the great tree beside which I stood. Thus the night wore on, the rain after a while dying away, but the wind, as if in recompense, increasing each moment in violence, its wild shrieking and the mad rush of the trees as they bent this way and that rising and falling like no sound that man can describe or imitate. For in such things Nature claims its sole prerogative, and strive as we may, we cannot in any way mimic its voices or varying moods.
Entertained as one bred in the city might be at a play, I neither sought nor desired sleep; but as the storm reached its climax a tremor shook my frame and fear laid hold of me, as if some great and pressing danger threatened. Of what nature, however, or from whence, I could not tell, for in no way were the sounds that reached me different from those I had heard before. What was it, then? Some instinct of life that cried out within me, or a voice of the night that bade me beware! Listening, I could distinguish nothing, nor make aught of my fear. Weak and scarce able to stand, I reached out my hand to steady myself against the great tree, and doing so, found it rocking in the storm like a gigantic pendulum turned bottom side up. This it was, then, that had caused my tremblings. Its silent movements, unnoticed in the darkness of the night, had yet in some mysterious way conveyed a note of warning, and I, as if it were some kindred spirit, had felt its vibrations, and so was filled with fear. Conscious the tree was about to fall, I drew back, but unable to make out the direction it would take, I stood still, not knowing which way to turn. At last, guided by the storm, I sprang to one side, and then, as if only awaiting my movements, the great tree, leaning more and more, fell with a mighty crash on the spot where I had stood. Outstretched before me, it lay like some huge animal, its glistening trunk towering far above my head. Seeing it, a cry of terror burst from my lips, and throwing myself on my face, I gave thanks to God for my escape from death.
Rising to my feet after a while, I looked about to find the storm, as if only awaiting the overthrow of the great tree, had died away, and the moon coming out full and clear, cast its peaceful light over the silent glade. Seeking some spot not drenched with rain where I might pass the night, the hollow of the fallen tree, like some great cavern partly lighted, loomed before me. Here I determined to find a bed, and entering its secure depths, stretched my weary body on its smooth surface, and in a moment was lost in dreams of Constance and Little Sandy.