"You get them all bitten and cut up," said Miss Lady. "How do you think that feels?"

"I know how it feels," said Blount, slowly. "As to dogs, I think there are times when it's a sort of relief to them. You can't change the way the world is made, Miss Lady. How'd you like to sit here for ever and never get a chance to see anything outside of this here yard?"

Unconsciously, he had come close to a certain mark. "I should die,"

said Miss Lady, simply. "I was just thinking--"

"What were you thinking?" said Blount, suddenly.

"I don't blame Hec, after all. I should die if I had to stay here for ever, with just nothing to do--nothing--n.o.body--"

Blount suddenly pulled up his chair and sat down close at hand.

"Tell me, Miss Lady, what do you mean?" said he. "Tell me, child.

Ain't you happy here?"

"Well, I don't know."

"Yes, you do know; and I asked you if you weren't happy."

"Maybe you don't understand all about girls, Colonel Calvin," said Miss Lady.

"I don't reckon I do. I don't reckon G.o.d A'mighty does, either, hardly. I thought you and your mother were contented here. You've made it a sort of heaven for me. I 'lowed it would run along for ever that-away."

Silence fell between them. "Miss Lady," said Blount, finally, "I came out here this morning on purpose to hunt you up. Now, listen. You say you're not happy here. I have been nothing but happy ever since you came. For a long time I didn't know why. I didn't know why I kept on asking where was Miss Lady at, where was Miss Lady gone to. 'Now, where is Miss Lady?' I found myself asking this very morning. About an hour ago I found myself asking that mighty strong. Then I just set myself down, right out there on the board-pile, and done reasoned it all out. Then I found out why I was asking that question so much. I found out why I never did get married, Miss Lady. The reason was, I never wanted to, till now."

Miss Lady was looking far away now, out across the fields. Her face was pale, save for a small red spot in either cheek. She moved as though she would have turned to face this man whose eyes she felt, yet this she was unable to do. She heard the voice go on, softer than she had ever known it before.

"Miss Lady," said Calvin Blount, "now listen to me. I've grown up down here like any savage. I haven't been much better than my old daddy, nor much different; and every man ought to grow better than his dad, if he can. I have driven the n.i.g.g.e.rs to work, and I have been comfortable on what they raised. I can see it's right rough down here, though. I never used to think so. All I wanted in the world was rain enough to make the cotton sure, and mast enough to make the b'ahs come. I was happy, or thought I was, until you came, though I reckon I never really knew what that word meant before. I never did see a woman I liked as well as my pack of dogs. This place was good enough for me. Now, listen. I was fool enough to think for one minute, Miss Lady, for just one minute, that it was good enough for you. I thought maybe you and I could understand a heap of things together. Now, I hear you say that you're lonesome, that you're not happy here. Happy? Why, I tell you, Miss Lady, I am half-dying of lonesomeness right now, right here in my own home, on my own ground, in the only place in G.o.d A'mighty's world where I am fit to live."

"You must not," said Miss Lady, and turned toward him eyes in which stood sudden tears. "I must go. I must go away."

"Listen, I tell you," said Blount again, sternly, and put out a hand as she would have risen. "You go away? Where would you go? What would you do? Now, wait till I get done. Here," he cried almost savagely, "stand up here like I tell you, and listen to what I've got to say!

Stand right there!" He drew in one grasp from his pocket his handkerchief and his gauntlet gloves, and swept a place clean upon the gallery floor before her.

"Stand right there, Miss Lady," said he, with all his old imperiousness. "Stand in that place where I done made it clean and easy for you, like I want to make the whole world clean and easy for you always. I'd like to smooth it that-away for you, always. Now, look at me, Miss Lady. I ain't a coward, at least I never was till now, and maybe not now; for I came here as soon as I knew how this thing was, though G.o.d knows I wanted to get on my horse and ride the other way as fast as I could. I came here because I wouldn't have been a man if I hadn't come, if I hadn't said this to the first woman I ever thought twice about."

"Don't, don't, please! please!" cried Miss Lady, pushing out her hands, but he commanded her again, sternly.

"Stop," said he. "There's one time when a man has a right to say his say, and say it all. I've got to tell you this. I've got to offer myself to you in marriage, Miss Lady. I've got to ask that of you; and, G.o.d pity me, I've got to give myself my own answer. Listen!

Stop! It ain't for you to answer. It's for me.

"Now, look at me. I'm strong. I'm not afraid of any living thing, except you. I'm old, but there's younger men that's no better. I'm rich enough. I've got two thousand acres of the best land in the Delta, and that's the best on earth. There's money enough here to take you anywhere you want to go in all the world. I couldn't be mean to no woman. It's in my nature to feel that a woman is a thing to be took care of, for ever and for ever--that oughtn't to work, that oughtn't to worry, that ought to just _be!_ I don't know much about women, but I always did feel that-away. You'd never have to worry about that. I wouldn't lie to you, not for any reason. No man should ever raise a breath against you. If"--he swept a hand over his face, but still went on.

"Listen," he said, "Miss Lady Ellison, I, Calvin Blount, old Calvin Blount, this sort of man like I told you, I offer myself to you, and all I have, for your own. I offer you that--" The girl's eyes looked up at him, swimming now all the more in tears. His face was distorted, but he went on. "Don't," said he, "please don't! Listen, here's the answer. By the Eternal, you _can't_ and you _shan't_ marry old Cal Blount! It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be right, Miss Lady," said he again, presently. "It's right for me to tell you that I never thought twice of any other woman, that in my soul I love you, that I never shall know a happy day without you; but it's right, too, for me to give myself the answer, and I do. And it's No, Miss Lady, it's No!" He turned away. Miss Lady felt about her blindly and dropped her head on the rail of the chair, sobbing.

"I can't help it. I can't help things, Colonel Cal," said she, "but then, but then--"

"Yes, child; yes, Miss Lady," said Calvin Blount, gently, "but then, but then! I never did know much, but I'm learnin'.

I'm man enough now to know all about what you mean when you say 'but then.' Come, it's all over. But I can't bear to see you cry. Please stop, Miss Lady. Don't do that."

Miss Lady could not stop. She buried her face in her hands. She half felt the touch of a hand, very light, upon her head, a touch given but once, and swiftly withdrawn. She heard him continue. "This home is yours," said he, "and you can stay here, I'll go out into the woods again. You need not fret and you need not fear. We couldn't, maybe, both stay here together now. Or, it may be there's a bigger world for you somewhere, and you want to go there. I won't stand in your way, and I'll help you all I can. I'm done talking about this, now and for ever. But if you don't stop crying, I'll get on my horse right now, and I'll ride out in the woods and I never will come back again."

Miss Lady put out her hand to him.

"Sir," said she, half-whispering, "I didn't know that men were this way. It's different from what I thought. But you must remember," and she smiled wanly, "you must remember always only that it was you who refused yourself. Please think of it that way, Mr. Cal."

Old Hec ventured up the steps again and stood looking dumbly from one to the other of these two. At last he deserted his master and went over and laid his big head on Miss Lady's lap, looking up at her with questioning eyes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SHE HALF FELT THE TOUCH OF A HAND, VERY LIGHT, UPON HER HEAD.]

CHAPTER XII

A WOMAN SCORNED

As Colonel Blount pa.s.sed from the gallery into the house he came under the gaze of a close observer. Mrs. Ellison, for reasons of her own watchful and suspicious, had heard these agitated voices on the gallery, and, had it been possible without detection, would not have been in the least above eavesdropping. This being impossible, she was forced to draw her own conclusions, based in part upon her own suspicions. The droop of this man's shoulders, the drawn look of his face, spoke plainly enough for her. Hardly had the sound of his footsteps died away before she was out of the door of her room and by the side of Miss Lady, who still sat, pensive and downcast, in her rocking-chair on the gallery.

Miss Lady was not prepared for the spectacle which thus met her gaze, this woman with clenched hands and distorted face, and att.i.tude which spoke only of antagonism and threat. There came a swift catch at her heart, for this was the woman to whom of natural right she should now have fled in search of consolation. It seemed to her now as though all her world had known a sudden change. It was as when some tender creature, fresh risen from the earth, ventures into the strange, new world of the air, to flutter its brief day. Eternity seems to stretch before it, an eternity of joy hinted in the first glance at this new universe which it attains. Yet comes the sun, the sudden, blighting sun, the same influence which has broken the brooding envelope of another world and brought this gentle being into its new life, and this cruel sun withers at once the tender creature in all its hope and youthfulness and beauty, ending its bright day ere it as yet is noon. Thus seemed the universe to Miss Lady, no longer young, care- free, joyous, but now suddenly grown old. One look, one sudden flash of her inner comprehension, and she knew it to be for ever established that this woman, her mother, was her mother no more! Why, she knew not, yet this was sure, she was not her mother, but her enemy. How dubiously swam all the world about poor Miss Lady at that instant! She knew, even before the enraged woman at her side had formulated her emotion into speech.

"So now, you treacherous little cat," said Mrs. Ellison, between her shut teeth, "you've been at work, have you? Oh, I might have known it all along. You've been trying to undermine me, have you? Why, do you think I'll let a little minx, a little half-baked brat like you, keep me out of getting the man I want? I'll show you, Miss Lady girl!"

"Stop! Wait! What are you saying?" cried Miss Lady.

"You'll listen to what I am saying," cried Mrs. Ellison. "You've been leading him on, and now you presume to reject him--to reject the roof over your head and the bread in your mouth. Why, I never thought of him seriously for you! You've ruined us both in every way, yourself and me. Why, can't you see that if we stayed here he had to be for one or the other of us? And could you not know that I wanted him for myself? Oh, don't say 'wait'--don't speak to me! I know it all as well as if I had seen it. Now, you've got to walk, that's all."

"Oh, mamma, mamma," cried Miss Lady, "do not!"

"'Oh, mamma, mamma!'" mocked the other; "stop your tongue, girl, and don't you dare to call me 'mamma' again. I am not your mother, and never was!"

Miss Lady gasped and went pale, but the cruel voice went on. "You don't know what you are, or who you are. You're nothing, you're n.o.body! You had no chance except what I could give you, and you'll never know now what a chance that was! I would have made you, girl. I would have done something with you, something for us both--but not now, ah, no, not now! You, to cut me out from the only man I ever really did want!"

Miss Lady rose, suddenly aflame with resentment, and feeling a courage which came she knew not whence.

"Madam," said she, with calmness in spite of her anger, "I don't know what you mean by this, but I am certain you are telling the truth. I will not talk to you at all. You degrade us both. As to Colonel Blount, I never said a word, I never did the first thing--I didn't--I didn't tell him anything--I could not help--"

"You could not help! You could not help! Of course you could not help! Neither can I help. But the main thing, after all, is that you have thrown away a home for both of us--"

"Madam," said Miss Lady, now very quiet and calm, "there is only one thing certain in all the world to me at this moment, and that is that you do not love me, that you never will, and that I don't feel toward you as I should. It is as you say. I could not stay here now; I shall have to go somewhere. Colonel Blount himself knows that. He said so."

"Your mother!" resumed Mrs. Ellison, laughing shrilly, "I am about as much your mother"--she began, but caught herself up; "you are n.o.body, I say, and you'll have to go take care of yourself as best you can.

You don't know what you're throwing away, young woman. If you had left things to me there would have been none of this trouble. Now I shall have to go too, for I would die rather than stay here now. I hate that man!"

Miss Lady for a moment saw the naked soul of this woman whom she had called her mother, even as at that moment she saw her own soul; and between this which she saw and that which remained in her own bosom, she recognized no kinship. Problems there were for her, but this was not one of them.

"Madam," said she at length, with a dignity beyond her years, "you are right. We must go, both of us; but we shall not go together."