Belford's Magazine, Vol 2, December 1888

Mrs. McAnay was apparently asleep, and the noise of the heavy shuffling feet had not waked her. Her head rested on one hand, her elbow supported by the arm of the chair.

"Mother."

Levi spoke low.

"Mother, wake up."

He shook her gently. Her head drooped a little lower, but her eyes remained closed.

"Mother, get awake."

His voice was harsh and loud, and the shake he gave her vigorous and sudden, but her head only drooped lower.

The Myers brothers had laid Cassi on the floor at her feet, and were standing at a little distance from her. Matthi, stanching the flow of blood from his lips, stood near the door.

It was a cruel scene, this attempt on the part of an older son to arouse his mother to the knowledge of the injury done to her best beloved, and in silence the spectators beheld it.

Sharply the stillness was broken as Lizzī, with a shriek, threw herself across Cassi and buried her face in her mother's lap.

"Dead, dead!" she moaned, "Cassi and mother – and both for me!"

Cassi was restored to his senses by the jar of her fall upon him, and Thomas Myers saw in his opening eyes the return of life.

"Cassi's livin'!" he cried. "He's opened his eyes."

But only Henry Myers heeded him. The others were engrossed by the awful scene before them.

Levi and Matthi, stunned by the sudden death of their mother, were motionless. Their wits had apparently deserted them, and they were unable to comprehend the situation.

Lizzī did not remain long on her knees. Struggling to her feet, she tore open her dress at the neck, as if to give her greater freedom in breathing, but really to reach her marriage-certificate, which she snatched from the little pocket made for it and held it before her mother.

"Are your eyes open in heaven, mother? If they are, read this. You died without seein' it."

Of the gaping, mystified crowd none guessed what the crumpled paper was. Thrusting it back in its hiding-place, she turned to the wide-mouthed throng, and said:

"Leave us alone."

Slowly the burly men and curious boys went away in obedience to the pathetic command. Thomas Myers closed the door behind him, shutting Henry in, who, thoroughly repentant, remained to be of service.

Cassi, who had staggered to his feet, seeing him, made an attack upon him, muttering as he swayed in uncertain advance:

"Yer hed no bizness ter drag my sister's name inter this bar-room!"

He tried to shake off Lizzī's enfolding arms, but they held him firmly.

"It's all right, dear Cassi. You fought hard; but Hen's apologized, and if you make a noise you will wake mother. Now go to bed."

She led him to the foot of the stairs and kissed him good-night. He obeyed her, for her will was dominant in that household.

CHAPTER XII.

LIZZĪ PROVES HER INNOCENCE

When Cassi had entered his room, Lizzī lifted her mother and laid her on her bed. Then she sent Levi for Margaret Reed, a little, winning, sympathetic woman who was summoned on all occasions. In times of sorrow she shed a soft radiance on darkened hearts, and in times of rejoicing she was bright as the sunshine. "Send for Gret" – no one called her Mrs. Reed; toddlers said "Det" – was the suggestion of sadness, the impulse of joy, and Gret, childless herself, but mother to all the babies and sister to all the mothers of the village, answered every call.

She had no rebuke for Henry Myers, whom she met as she entered the McAnay home, except such as just hearts will sometimes express by an unconscious manner of repugnance. Henry was sensitive enough to feel it, and he departed cursing himself bitterly.

Gret went straight to Lizzī, and felt like a giantess as the latter knelt before her and clung to her dress.

"I killed her, Gret; I killed her. I never told her, and it broke her heart; and I am a murderer, worse than Henry Myers would have been if he had killed Cassi. She couldn't think it was all right, and when she heard the boys was fighting for me, she couldn't stand it any longer and just died where I left her. And I was so crazy to have Cassi brought home, so I could say to her, 'There, mother, you see how he believed in me, fightin' till he died;' but the Lord shut her eyes so she couldn't see the cruel sight. Yes, I'm punished for my stubborn silence. If I had showed it to her she wouldn't have died so sudden."

Gret did not invite confidence by asking Lizzī what she should have shown her mother.

"And poor father," Lizzī continued, "away out in the cabin alone, his wife dead and his daughter disgraced – how will I tell him that mother is dead?"

"I'll send Seth," said Gret; "and while he is gone we must get your mother ready for the grave."

Gret went out, and soon came back with the news that Seth was on his way to Peter McAnay's cabin.

Lizzī was more composed, and assisted Gret in preparing the body for burial.

It was near daybreak when Peter reached his home. Gret met him at the door. Levi, Matthi, and Cassi rose to receive him. They had been sitting in the room where their mother died. Blind Benner lay asleep on a bench, and Hunch was crouching in a corner. Lizzī was with the dead. She heard her father's voice in response to the greeting of her brothers, but did not move from her knees.

Her father's step on the stairs told of his approach. She bowed her head lower and clasped her hands. Her posture was one of utter dejection. Her father stood over her. She did not move. He spoke to her. She did not reply.

He glanced at the bed, and saw how tastefully she had dressed her mother for the grave. He could see through the mist in his eyes that the dress was not stiff in its folds, but gracefully draped the rigid form. He was touched by the natural arrangement of the snow-white hair.

"Yer hev drest yer mother pretty, Lizzī; she's sleepin' nateral."

This broke Lizzī down completely, and she fell forward, with her face between her father's boots and her arms outstretched.

"Oh, father, forgive me for bein' so bad! I killed mother. I killed her by not tellin'."

When Lizzī began to speak, Levi closed the stair door. The noise he made, though not loud, was sufficient to wake Blind Benner. By Levi's direction, Hunch led the blind man to his home.

Lizzī lay on the floor moaning and calling herself "a bad, bad woman."

Her father's heart almost burst. Could it be after all that she was dishonest? Could it be that her mother had read her aright? Could it be that she had cruelly encouraged his faith in her, knowing the certainty of his discovery of the truth at last? No, no; it could not be. In his desperation he became calm, with the forced self-control that makes many a man firm on the gallows. His tones had not a ring of hope as he said:

"Don't grovel there, Lizzī. Stand up. There's yer old dead mother, and here's yer old dyin' father. Git up and face her and me, and tell the truth, and it all too, mind."

His voice grew sharp and commanding; never had he spoken so sternly to her. She slowly lifted herself and looked first at the dead, then at her father. A shudder passed over her. He mistook her manner for fear, and was convinced she had deceived him. Taking one step forward, he lifted his hand to strike her and huskily exclaimed:

"You hussy!"

A spasm passed over her face, then she calmly awaited the blow. The look in her eyes checked it. When his hand fell to his side, she spoke:

"I forgive you, father, for the dead mother's sake."

Her tones were deep and tender, and he bowed before the majesty of unsullied womanhood. He knew without further assurance that she was pure.

"Call the boys," she said in quiet command. He obeyed her, and her brothers promptly responded. For a moment she gazed upon them tenderly as they stood mutely expectant behind their father; and then, with one of her royal gestures, put her hand to her neck and tore open her dress, exposing her bosom.

"My heart's white as that," she said, tapping with her finger-tips the fair skin, "and there's the proof of it."

She handed her marriage-certificate to her father with manner as stately as if it were the title to a throne. His hands trembled so he could not grasp it, and it fell to the floor. Levi picked it up.

"Read it to us, Lizzī," he requested.

"No, I want you to see it and read it for yourselves."

Then he read it aloud. They were overjoyed at this confirmation of their faith in her. Peter fell on his daughter's neck and begged her forgiveness. With a kiss she sealed it, already granted.

When she could control her voice she said: "John's mother was opposed to our marriage, and threatened to cut him out of her property. John is dead, or he would have come back to me."

Lizzī had schooled herself, and was able to utter that sentence as she would have told a bit of ordinary news.

"So I never told you, and let mother die without knowin' I wasn't bad, because I don't want John's mother to know he left a wife, for she would cut me off without anything, and after a while I might want to claim her property for John's child."

"Oh!" said Cassi, a vision of wealth gleaming before him.

"Oh!" echoed Matthi, glad of Lizzī's prospects.

"Ah!" ejaculated Levi, seeing ahead a sensational lawsuit that would likely come on by the time he was admitted to practice and make him famous.

But the father said:

"I hope Gill's money will come ter yer, Lizzī; but I'm gladder of thet writin' than if yer had the wealth of Nebuchadnezzar. I'd a great deal rather see you eatin' grass and know yer was clean, than have yer livin' in a king's palace, foul."

It was a thrilling speech dramatically delivered.

"And you'll keep my secret, boys? Tell them to, father."

"We will," they answered, without waiting for their father's command, and speaking earnestly, as if they took an oath.

From downstairs came a rattling of the stove doors. Gret, unconscious of the dramatic incident upstairs, was getting breakfast. She did not wonder why Peter had called his sons. She was not inquisitive, not officious, but sympathetic and helpful.

"I must tell one woman," Lizzī said, "for I can't bear to have all my sex have a bad opinion of me. So I'll tell Gret Reed. Levi, you go down and help her a minute, while I tidy up a bit."

Gret had breakfast on the table when Lizzī came downstairs, and the hungry brothers had taken their seats. Peter stood at the foot of the table. Gret was at Lizzī's accustomed place; the mother's chair at the head of the table was vacant. Lizzī went to Gret: "You take mother's place."

"No, Lizzī, that is your seat now. I will sit where you used to."

Gret would not yield to Lizzī's urgent request.

"Then," said Lizzī, "I can't sit there till you read that and know I don't shame my mother's place."

"Why, Lizzī!" Gret began in protest, but Lizzī interrupted:

"Read it; you have trusted me, and I'll trust you."

Gret took the marriage-certificate, read it, and returned it without a word. A soft smile was the only indication of joy at Lizzī's vindication.

"I have good reason for wantin' nobody else to know it' Gret. Now sit down to breakfast."

CHAPTER XIII.

AN OATH

"It's not worth the paper it's written on, except to show us our sister is pure."

Levi addressed his father and brothers in the school-room on the Sunday following his mother's funeral. He referred to the marriage-certificate which Lizzī guarded so carefully.

Hunch Blair lay close to the floor, under a desk which protected him from discovery. During the day he had heard Levi tell Cassi to come to the school-house in the evening. Suspecting something interesting, he got there before the McAnays.

"It's no good, I say," Levi continued, "and there's nothing left for us to do but bring the sneak back and have Parson Lawrence marry him and Lizzī. And if he won't come, why, settle with him, that's all."

"Yes, tar and feather and then burn him," suggested Matthi as his idea of settlement.

"No, lynch him," Cassi advised.

"Well, we must lose no time," said Levi.

"But Lizzī believes Gill is dead," Peter remarked.

"Dead nothin'," replied the stolid Matthi. "He's most likely foolin' another girl some place, and I'd like ter git a chance ter put a stop to his gallantin'."

Matthi made a gesture suggestive of wringing the neck of a chicken.

"Come, boys," Levi said, "let's swear. Join your right hands to mine above our father's head. Now say, we are three brothers whose sister has been deeply wronged, and we do swear in the presence of our aged father and upon our honor as men to seek John Gillfillan, our sister's betrayer, and compel him to return to her and make her his wife, and if he will not, to avenge our sister's honor by his blood."

"We swear," they all said solemnly, after the formula had been repeated.

Peter bowed his approval, and encouraged them by saying:

"Go to-morrer, boys, and God bless ye. I'll take care of Lizzī."

Levi pulled from his pocket some money, not very much, although it was the savings of two years, and began counting it in the moonlight, while the others watched him curiously. He fingered the bills fondly. He slowly dropped the gold coins into his hat, and listened with evident delight to the clinking of the falling pieces. He held the silver close to the window, and looked from it to the gold, from the gold to the moon.

"The moon is a silver dollar, and the sun is a twenty-dollar gold-piece."

About to make a sacrifice, he said a silly thing that his father and brothers should think he gave easily and without pain.

"There, father," he said, turning first the silver, then the gold, into his father's hat, and on top of the yellow and argent pile laying the paper money, "there, father, that's for Lizzī, and will keep her until we come back, bringing her husband. If we don't find him, we'll work for her."

Peter, seized with a fit of trembling, sat down helplessly, and picking up the hat, ran his fingers among the coins, clinking them. Cassi and Matthi looked on in quiet admiration, both wishing heartily that the balance due them on the furnace books was not so light. Although half ashamed to place his small savings beside Levi's princely gift, Matthi remarked:

"Guess if we put our money together it would look bigger, Cassi."

"Kind of small potatoes beside of Levi's pile," Cassi replied; "but if Levi will write us an order, we'll sign it, hey, Matthi?"

Levi had with him an inkstand, a then new invention for the pocket, and pen and paper. He wrote the order in the moonlight, and the brothers signed it.

"God bless ye all!" exclaimed Peter as he received the order. "Ye are the best sons any man ever had. Oh! if yer mother's lookin' down on us, she's not ashamed ter hold her head up among the angels, 'less she feels bad 'bout not believin' in Lizzī." He put the money and order in his pocket. When they were secure, Levi hoisted a window on the dark side of the school-house and crawled through it. Then he helped his father out, and the others followed. For a moment they stood under the trees and breathed the resinous atmosphere of the woods just budding.

There was a silent shake of the father's trembling hand by each son in turn, and then they parted.

Lizzī got the usual early Monday breakfast, but made places for four only. Levi's school was closed for the year, and she meant he should enjoy a long morning nap if he chose. Her father came down, and she inquired if he had called Matthi and Cassi.

"I looked in their room, but they're up," he replied.

"Up? Funny I didn't hear them. Wonder where they could have gone this time in the morning without any breakfast."

"There's no tellin'," was Peter's answer.

Father and daughter ate silently. When his hunger was satisfied, Peter kissed her and, taking his axe and bundle, departed to the chopping.

The morning slipped by. Matthi and Cassi did not return, and Levi's sleep seemed endless. Lizzī went to his door and listened, but heard no sound. Pushing the door open a little, she looked in. The room was empty. The bed had not been slept in that night. On the wash-stand lay a note addressed to her in Levi's writing.

"Dear Lizzī: We have gone to find out for you all about John Gillfillan.

Your Three Brothers."

"Father knew it," she said, with a soft smile. "I hope the boys will bring me good news; but I know John is dead."

She had not wept for her husband, but for him a constant stream of grief flowed through her being, a river of soul-tears, no sound of its current rising to the surface.

She was almost entirely alone now. No one came to see her except Gret Reed and Mrs. Hornberger. Even Blind Benner and Hunch seemed to have deserted her, for they were missing from the town.

CHAPTER XIV.

HUNCH AND BLIND BENNER VISIT BILL KELLAR

"I know somethin' I won't tell," was Hunch's greeting to his blind friend on the Monday following the secret meeting of the McAnays in the school-house.

"Yer allers knowin' somethin', and it ain't nothin' when a feller finds it out."

"But it's somethin'; no little niggers in a peanut-shell this here time."

Hunch lowered his voice to a whisper, as he led Benner to the rear of the store. There he continued:

"Levi, Cassi, and Matthi's gone ter find Gill."

Benner gave a start, and would have uttered an exclamation, had not Hunch prevented him by laying a hand over his mouth and saying:

"Hush."

"They'll mebbe kill him," he continued.

"What fer?"

"Fer not marryin' Lizzī right."

"Lizzī don't know," Benner asserted.

"Yes, she does," Hunch replied.

"Yer a liar," and Blind Benner struck at Hunch.

He dodged, and said:

"Can't yer keep quiet? Lizzī don't want nobody ter know it."

"Yer a bigger liar than ever, an' yer ain't no friend uv mine."

Benner spoke louder than before, and sprang at Hunch, but missed him, and would have fallen against the counter had not Hunch caught him.

"Hello, there, boys! What are you fighting about?" Colonel Hornbeger called from the desk.

"Nothin'," Benner replied surlily; and Hunch said, "Benner's mad 'cause I told him somethin' he didn't like."

"Well, no fighting here."

"Say, Benner, what'd yer call me a liar fer?" Hunch asked when the Colonel's back was turned.

"'Cause yer sed Lizzī knowed she was married wrong."

This was spoken in a whisper so the Colonel would not hear it.

"Didn't say nothin' uv the kind. I sed she knowed the boys hed gone huntin' fer Gill."

"They won't ketch him," the blind man stated. "If he's run off, he'll hide from 'em, but he couldn't hide from me."

Hunch did not laugh at this declaration. He had equal faith in the blind man's ability as a detective, and expressed it.

"They orter hev took yer with 'em."

"Yes, they orter."

"Hunch!" called the clerk who had succeeded Gill. He responded, and was sent to the cellar. When he returned, Blind Benner had formed his plan and was ready to disclose it.

"Hunch, Gill must be brung back ter Lizzī, an' I want yer ter take me ter the McAnay boys an' I'll help find him."

"I'll do it, Benner."

"Hand, then, Hunch."

They closed the compact, which had been made in whispers, with a vigorous hand shaking.

Bill Kellar stood before the door of his house, shouting at the top of his voice as if he bayed the moon, just rising over the top of Bald Mountain. Echo, hiding in the shadow, replied to him. He would shout, then listen to his voice coming back, mellowed and musical.

"Bill's got 'nuther crazy fit," said Hunch, pausing at the gate, while Benner leaned against the fence to rest. In one hand the dwarf carried his cornet, in the other Blind Benner's fiddle, enclosed in a green bag.

"You fellows are always welcome on this plantation," said Bill, coming to meet them, and grasping Benner's hand affectionately, while he playfully knocked Hunch's hat over his eyes.

"Say, Bill," inquired the dwarf, "what 'er yellin' at, the sky?"

"Well, Hunch, I'll tell you and Benner, for I know you will keep it secret. I'm working on an invention that will be a blessing to the folks that live in cities. I mean a sound-softener."

"Sound-softener, thet runs off yer tongue slick as soft-soap."

Blind Benner was very angry at this lack of reverence, but Bill only laughed, and replied:

"It does slip easily, too much so, or I'd have found it out before now and had the right thing patented."

"Why don't yer set a trap fer it?" Hunch inquired seriously.

"Hunch, yer a fool!" Benner exclaimed angrily.

"Jist find it out?" the dwarf asked serenely.

Bill continued:

"I've been experimenting, but I have only one voice, and it makes the same echo. Now, you boys shout when I do, one short loud yell. Then pause and listen. Now, ready: one, two, go."

They shouted loudly as they could, and became instantly still. Echo sent back to them their voices, Hunch's shrill scream dominant over Bill's round full tone. In the wave of sound Benner's plaintive cry was almost drowned. Bill clapped his hands; he was overjoyed.

"It'll work, it'll work," he exclaimed, "and the dwellers in cities will thank me, thank Bill Kellar when he perfects his Echo Sound-softener. I am going to rig up a combination of walls that will reverberate sounds, most of which will die before they reach the drum of the ear. It will just slip over the ear easily and fit it comfortably. Two people wearing sound-softeners can converse easily on the streets, undisturbed by the noise of drays, street-cars, stages, and the shouts of the drivers."

Bill broke off abruptly here. He had become excited, and was nervously afraid his hearers did not understand him, so he ceased description and remarked:

"You will see just how it works when I get it done."

Blind Benner said he was sure it would succeed. Hunch was silent for a while. Presently he observed:

"Last winter my ear-lugs shet up my hearin' purty near, and I hed ter punch a hole in 'em, and then I didn't hear very loud."

Bill looked at the goblin leering at him in the moonlight and wondered how much mockery, how much earnestness there was in his words. As for Blind Benner, he was so much vexed as to lose his patience. Yet, willing to avoid a quarrel, he asked Bill how his violin did.

"Well, very well," Bill replied. "Last night I named her Magdalene, for in her dwell seven devils of fascination. She went before me, and I followed. We climbed heights, we plunged into depths, until I fell prostrate, worn out in the chase after the phantom, Music, who smiled on me pityingly as she stepped into her star chariot drawn by flying meteors."

Blind Benner, enraptured, cried:

"Go on, go on."

But Hunch again checked Bill's enthusiasm by pointing to the Milky Way, dim through the moonlight, and remarking:

"Jerushy! What a lot uv crazy fiddlers' girls must be out ridin' ternight."

Benner's face at first expressed contempt, but it softened to compassion as he said:

"'Tain't yer fault, Hunch. Yer ain't got it in yer head."

But Bill thought Hunch had it in his head, and resolved never to mention the sound-softener nor use high-sounding phrases before him. Becoming more practical, he invited his guests indoors, curious to know the object of their visit, yet too courteous to inquire. Benner did not keep him long in ignorance.

"The McAnay boys is gone ter hunt Gill, but they'll never find him, an' me an' Hunch is goin' ter find the boys an' help 'em git Gill. Then they'll bring him back an' make him marry Lizzī right."

"How can you help find him?" Bill asked gently and not incredulously.

"By my ears. He can't fool 'em if they'd ever hear him laugh er speak, but he might fool the boys' eyes."

"That's so," Bill assented. "But how are you and Hunch goin' to keep up with the big McAnays? They wouldn't want to be bothered with you."

He was considering the plan practically.

"We thought mebbe you'd lend us yer spring wagon," Benner said timidly.

"Of course I would, and drive it too, if I had somebody to look after the place."

"Gee-whitaker!" shouted Hunch. "Wouldn't that be the dandy fun, though."

"We could give concerts to pay expenses," Bill continued, "only I'm afraid of the devil."

"Thunder! I'd blow the devil up his own chimney with my horn," Hunch fairly screamed, greatly excited by the proposed tour.