The Foolish Virgin
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Thomas Dixon >> The Foolish Virgin
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He waited again in silence, scrambled out of the
car, and fumbled his way through the shadows to the
dark outlines of the cabin. He found the porch on
which the front door opened.
His light foot touched the log with sure step, and
he walked softly to the cabin wall. The door was not
yet visible in the pitch darkness. His auto lights
were turned the other way and threw their concentrated
rays far down into the deep woods.
He listened intently for a moment and caught the
cat-like tread of the old woman inside.
"I say--hello, in there!" he called.
Again the sound of her quick, furtive step told him
that she was on the alert and determined to defend her
castle against all comers. What if she should slip an
old rifle through a crack and blow his head off?
She might do it, too!
He must make her open the door.
"Say, what's the matter in there?" he asked
persuasively.
A moment's silence, and then a gruff voice slowly
answered:
"They ain't nobody at home!"
"The hell they ain't!" Jim laughed.
"No!"
"Who are you?"
She hesitated and then growled back:
"None o' your business. Who are you?"
"We're strangers up here--lost our way. It's
cold--we got to stop for the night."
"Ye can't--they's nobody home, I tell ye!" she
repeated with sullen emphasis.
Jim broke into a genial laugh.
"Ah! Come on, old girl! Open up and be sociable.
We're not revenue officers or sheriffs. If you've got
any good mountain whiskey, I'll help you drink it."
"Who are ye?" she repeated savagely.
"Ah, just a couple o' gentle, cooing turtle-doves--
a bride and groom. Loosen up, old girl; it's Christmas
Eve--and we're just a couple o' gentle cooin'
doves----"
Jim kept up his persuasive eloquence until the
light of the candle flashed through the window,
and he heard her slip the heavy bar from the door.
He lost no time in pushing his way inside.
Nance threw a startled look at his enormous, shaggy
fur coat--at the shining aluminum goggles almost
completely masking his face. She gave a low,
breathless scream, hurled the door-bar crashing to the
floor and stared at him like a wild, hunted animal at
bay, her thin hands trembling, the iron-gray hair
tumbling over her forehead.
"Oh, my God!" she wailed, crouching back.
Jim gazed at her in amazement. He had forgotten
his goggles and fur coat.
"What's the matter?" he asked in high-keyed tones
of surprise.
Nance made no answer but crouched lower and
attempted to put the table between them.
"What t'ell Bill ails you--will you tell me?" he
asked with rising wrath.
"I THOUGHT you wuz the devil," the old woman
panted. "Now I KNOW it!"
Jim suddenly remembered his goggles and coat, and
broke into a laugh.
"Oh!"
He removed his goggles and cap, threw back his big
coat and squared his shoulders with a smile.
"How's that?"
Nance glowered at him with ill-concealed rage,
looked him over from head to foot, and answered with a
snarl:
"'Tain't much better--ef ye ax ME!"
"Gee! But you're a sociable old wild-cat!" he
exclaimed, starting back as if she had struck him a
blow.
His eye caught the dried skin of a young wildcat
hanging on the log wall.
"No wonder you skinned your neighbor and hung her
up to dry," he added moodily.
He took in the room with deliberate insolence while
the old woman stood awkwardly watching him, shifting
her position uneasily from one foot to the other.
In all his miserable life in New York he could not
recall a room more bare of comforts. The rough logs
were chinked with pieces of wood and daubed with red
clay. The door was made of rough boards, the ceiling
of hewn logs with split slabs laid across them. An
old-fashioned, tall spinning wheel, dirty and unused,
sat in the corner. A rough pine table was in the
middle of the floor and a smaller one against the wall.
On this side table sat two rusty flat-irons, and
against it leaned an ironing board. A dirty piece
of turkey-red calico hung on a string for a portiere at
the opening which evidently led into a sort of kitchen
somewhere in the darkness beyond.
The walls were decorated at intervals. A huge
bunch of onions hung on a wooden peg beside the wild-
cat skin. Over the window was slung an old-fashioned
muzzle-loading musket. The sling which held it was
made of a pair of ancient home-made suspenders fastened
to the logs with nails. Beneath the gun hung a cow's
horn, cut and finished for powder, and with it a dirty
game-bag. Strings of red peppers were strung along
each of the walls, with here and there bunches of
popcorn in the ears. A pile of black walnuts lay in
one corner of the cabin and a pile of hickory nuts in
another.
A three-legged wooden stool and a split-bottom
chair stood beside the table, and a haircloth couch,
which looked as if it had been saved from the Ark, was
pushed near the wall beside the door.
Across this couch was thrown a ragged patchwork
quilt, and a pillow covered with calico rested on one
end, with the mark of a head dented deep in the center.
Jim shrugged his shoulders with a look of disgust,
stepped quickly to the door and called:
"Come on in, Kid!"
Nance fumbled her thin hands nervously and spoke
with the faintest suggestion of a sob in her voice.
"I ain't got nothin' for ye to eat----"
"We've had dinner," he answered carelessly.
He stepped to the door and called:
"Bring that little bag from under the seat, Kiddo."
He held the door open, and the light streamed
across the yard to the car. He watched her steadily
while she raised the cushion of the rear seat, lifted
the bag and sprang from the car. His keen eye never
left her for an instant until she placed it in his
hands.
"Mercy, but it's heavy!" she panted, as she gave it
to him.
He took it without a word and placed it on the
table in the center of the room.
Nance glared at him sullenly.
"There's no place for ye, I tell ye----"
Jim faced her with mock politeness.
"For them kind words--thanks!"
He bowed low and swept the room with a mocking
gesture.
"There ain't no room for ye," the old woman
persisted.
Jim raised his voice to a squeaking falsetto with
deliberate purpose to torment her.
"I got ye the first time, darlin'!" he exclaimed,
lifting his hands above her as if to hold her down.
"We must linger awhile for your name--anyhow, we
mustn't forget that. This is Mrs. Nance Owens?"
The old woman started and watched him from beneath
her heavy eyebrows, answering with sullen emphasis:
"Yes."
Again Jim lifted his hands above his head and waved
her to earth.
"Well! Don't blame me! I can't help it, you
know----"
He turned to his wife and spoke with jolly good
humor.
"It's the place, all right. Set down, Kiddo--take
off your hat and things. Make yourself at home."
Nance flew at him in a sudden frenzy at his
assumption of insolent ownership of her cabin.
"There's no place for ye to sleep!" she fairly
shrieked in his face.
Again Jim's arms were over her head, waving her
down.
"All right, sweetheart! We're from New York. We
don't sleep. We've come all the way down here to the
mountains of North Carolina just to see you. And we're
goin' to sit up all night and look at ye----"
He sat down deliberately, and Nance fumbled her
hands with a nervous movement.
Mary's heart went out in sympathy to the forlorn
old creature in her embarrassment. Her dress was dirty
and ragged, an ill-fitting gingham, the elbows out and
her bare, bony arms showing through. The waist was too
short and always slipping from the belt of wrinkled
cloth beneath which she kept trying to stuff it.
Mary caught her restless eye at last and held it in
a friendly look.
"Please let us stay!" she pleaded. "We can sleep
on the floor--anywhere."
"You bet!" Jim joined in. "Married two weeks--and
I don't care whether it rains or whether it pours or
how long I have to stand outdoors--if I can be with
you, Kid."
The old woman hesitated until Mary's smile melted
its way into her heart.
Her lips trembled, and her watery blue eyes
blinked.
"Well," she began grumblingly, "thar's a little
single bed in that shed-room thar for you--ef he'll
sleep in here on the sofy."
Jim leaped to his feet.
"What do ye think of that? Bully for the old gal!
Kinder slow at first. As the poet sings of the little
bed-bug, she ain't got no wings--but she gets there
just the same!"
He drew the electric torch from his pocket and
advanced on Nance.
"By Golly--I'll have another look at you."
Nance backed in terror at the sight of the
revolver-like instrument.
"What's that?" she gasped.
"Just a little Gatlin' gun!" he cried jokingly. He
pressed the button, and the light flashed squarely in
the old woman's eyes.
"God 'lmighty--don't shoot!" she screamed.
Jim doubled with laughter.
"For the love o' Mike!"
Nance leaned against the side table and wiped the
perspiration from her brow.
"Lord! I thought you'd kilt me!" she panted, still
trembling.
"Ah, don't be foolish!" Jim said persuasively. "It
can't hurt you. Here, take it in your hand--I'll
show you how to work it. It's to nose round dark
places under the buzz-wagon."
He held it out to Nance.
"Here, take it and press the button."
The old woman drew back.
"No--no--I'm skeered! No----"
Jim thrust the torch into her hand and forced her
to hold it.
"Oh, come on, it's easy. Push your finger right
down on the button."
Nance tried it gingerly at first, and then laughed
at the ease with which it could be done. She flashed
it on the floor again and again.
"Why, it's like a big lightnin' bug, ain't it?"
She turned the end of it up to examine more
closely, pushed the button unconsciously, and the light
flashed in her eyes. She jumped and handed it quickly
to Jim.
"Or a jack o' lantern--here, take it," she cried,
still trembling.
Jim threw his hands up with a laugh.
"Can you beat it!"
Backing quickly to the door, Nance called nervously
to Mary:
"I'll get your room ready in a minute, ma'am." She
paused and glanced at Jim.
"And thar's a shed out thar you can put your devil
wagon in----"
She slipped through the dirty calico curtains, and
Mary saw her go with wondering pity in her heart.
CHAPTER XV
A LITTLE BLACK BAG
Mary watched Nance, with a quick glance at Jim. Again
he had forgotten that he had a wife. She had studied
this strange absorption with increasing uneasiness.
During the long, beautiful drive of the afternoon
beside laughing waters, through scenes of unparalleled
splendor, through valleys of entrancing peace, the
still, sapphire skies bending above with clear,
Southern Christmas benediction, he had not once pressed
her hand, he had not once bent to kiss her.
Each time the thought had come, she fought back the
tears. She had made excuses for him. He was absorbed
in the memories of his miserable childhood in New York,
perhaps. The approaching meeting with his relatives
had awakened the old hunger for a mother's love that
had been denied him. The scenes through which they
were passing had perhaps stirred the currents of his
subconscious being.
And yet why should such memories estrange his
spirit from hers? The effect should be the opposite.
In the remembrance of his loneliness and suffering, he
should instinctively turn to her. The love with which
she had unfolded his life should redeem the past.
He was standing now with his heavy chin silhouetted
against the flickering light of the candle on the
table. His hand closed suddenly on the handle of the
bag with the swift clutch of an eagle's claw. She
started at the ugly picture it made in the dim rays of
the candle.
What were the thoughts seething behind the mask of
his face? She watched him, spellbound by his complete
surrender to the mood that had dominated him from the
moment he had touched the deep forests of the Black
Mountain range. A grim elation ruled even his
silences. The man standing there rigid, his face a
smiling, twitching mask, was a stranger. This man she
had never known, or loved. And yet they were bound for
life in the tenderest and strongest ties that can hold
the human soul and body.
She tossed her head and threw off the ugly thought.
It was morbid nonsense! She was just hungry for a
kiss, and in his new environment he had forgotten
himself as many thoughtless men had forgotten before
and would forget again.
"Jim!" she whispered tenderly.
He made no answer. His thick lips were drawn in
deep, twisted lines on one side, as if he had suddenly
reached a decision from which there could be no appeal.
She raised her voice slightly.
"Jim?"
Not a muscle of his body moved. The drawn lines of
the mouth merely relaxed. His answer was scarcely
audible.
"Yep----"
"She's gone!"
"Yep----"
She moved toward him wistfully.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
His square jaw still held its rigid position
silhouetted in sharp profile against the candle's
light. He answered slowly and mechanically.
"What?"
His indifference was more than the sore heart could
bear. The pent-up tears of the afternoon dashed in
flood against the barriers of her will.
"You--haven't--kissed--me--today," she stammered,
struggling with each word to save a break.
Still he stood immovable. This time his answer was
tinged with the slightest suggestion of amusement.
"No?"
She staggered against the table beside the door and
gripped its edge desperately.
"Oh--" she gasped. "Don't you love me any more?"
With his sullen head still holding its position of
indifference, his absorption in the idea which
dominated his mind still unbroken, he threw out one
hand in a gesture of irritation.
"Cut it, Kid! Cut it!"
His tones were not only indifferent; they were
contemptuously indifferent.
With a sob, she sank into the chair and buried her
face in her arms.
"You're tired! I see it now; you've tired of me.
Oh--it's not possible--it's not possible!"
The torrent came at last in a flood of utter
abandonment.
Jim turned, looked at her and threw up his hands in
temporary surrender.
"Oh, for God's sake!" he muttered, crossing
deliberately to her side. He stood and let her
sob.
With a quick change of mood, he drew her to her
feet, swept her swaying form into his arms, crushed her
and covered her lips with kisses.
"How's that?"
She smiled through her tears.
"I feel better----"
Jim laughed.
"For better or worse--`until Death do us part'--
that's what you said, Kid, and you meant it, too,
didn't you?"
He seized both of her arms, held them firmly and
gazed into her eyes with steady, stern inquiry.
She looked up with uneasy surprise.
"Of course--I meant it," she answered slowly.
He held her arms gripped close and said:
"Well--we'll see!"
His hands relaxed, and he turned away, rubbing his
square chin thoughtfully.
She watched him in growing amazement. What could
be the mystery back of this new twist of his elusive
mind?
He laid his hand on the black bag again, smiled,
and turned and faced her with expanding good humor.
"Great scheme, this marryin', Kid! And you believe
in it exactly as I do, don't you?"
"How do you mean?" she faltered.
"That it binds and holds both our lives as only
Almighty God can bind and hold?"
"Yes--nothing else IS marriage."
"That's what I say, too!"
He placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Great scheme!" he repeated. "I get a pretty girl
to work for me for nothing for the balance of my life."
He paused and lifted the slender forefinger of his
right hand. "And you pledged your pious soul--I
memorized the words, every one of them: `I, Mary, take
thee, James, to my wedded husband--TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
from this day forward, FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE,
for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to
love, cherish AND OBEY, TIL DEATH DO US PART, ACCORDING
TO GOD'S HOLY ORDINANCE; AND THEREUNTO I GIVE THEE MY
TROTH ----'"
He paused, lifted his head and smiled grimly:
"That's some promise, believe me, Kiddo! `AND OBEY'--you
meant it all, didn't you?"
She would have hedged lightly over that ugly old
word which still survived in the ceremony Craddock had
used, but for the sinister suggestion in his voice back
of the playful banter. He had asked it half in jest,
half in earnest. She had caught by the subtle sixth
sense the tragic idea in that one word that he was
going to hold her to it. The thought was too absurd!
"OBEY--you meant it, didn't you?" he repeated
grimly.
A smile played about the corners of her mouth as
she answered dreamily:
"Yes--I--I--PROMISED!"
"That's why I set my head on you from the first--
you're good and sweet--you're the real thing."
Again she caught the sinister suggestion in his
tone and threw him a startled look.
"What has come over you today, Jim?" she asked.
He hesitated and answered carelessly.
"Oh, nothing, Kiddo--just been thinking a little
about business. Got to go to work, you know." He
returned to the table and touched the bag lightly.
"Watch out now for this bag while I put up the
car--and don't forget that curiosity killed the
cat."
Quick as a flash, she asked:
"What's in it?"
Jim threw up his hands and laughed.
"Didn't I tell you that curiosity killed a cat?"
He pointed to the skin on the wall. "That's what
stretched that wild-cat's hide up there! She got too
near the old musket!"
"Anyhow, I'm not afraid of her end--what's in it?"
Jim scratched his red head and looked at her
thoughtfully.
"You asked me that once before today, didn't you?"
"Yes----"
"Well, it's a little secret of mine. Take my
advice--put your hand on it, but not in it."
Again the sinister look and tone chilled her.
"I don't like secrets between us, Jim," she said.
She looked at the bag reproachfully, and he watched
her keenly--then laughed.
"I'd as well tell you and be done with it; you'll
go in it anyhow."
She tossed her head with a touch of angry pride.
He took her hand, led her across the room and placed it
on the valise.
"I've got five thousand dollars in gold in that
bag."
She drew back, surprised beyond the power of
speech.
"And I'm going to give it to this old woman----"
To her--why?" she gasped.
"She's my mother."
"Your MOTHER?"
"Yes."
"I--I--thought--you told me she was dead."
"No. I said that I didn't know who she was."
He paused, and a queer brooding look crept into his
face.
"I haven't seen her since I was a little duffer
three years old. This room and these wild crags and
trees come back to me now--just a glimpse of them here
and there. I've always remembered them. I thought I'd
dreamed it----"
"You remember--how wonderful!" she breathed
reverently. She understood now, and the clouds lifted.
"The skunk I called my daddy," Jim went on
thoughtfully, "took me to New York. He said that my
mother deserted me when I was a kid. I believed him at
first. But when he beat me and kicked me into the
streets, I knew he was a liar. When I got grown I
began to think and wonder about her. I hired a lawyer
that knew my daddy, and he found her here----"
With a cry of joy, she seized his arms:
"Tell her quick! Oh, you're big and fine and
generous, Jim--and I knew it! They said that you were
a brute. I knew they lied. Tell her quick!"
He lifted his hand in protest.
"Nope--I'm going to put up a little job on the old
girl--show her the money tonight, get her wild at the
sight of it--and give it to her Christmas morning.
We've only a few hours to wait----"
"Oh, give it to her now--Jim! Give it to her now!"
He shook his head and walked to the door.
"I want to say something to her first and give her
time to think it over. Look out for the bag, and I'll
bring in the things."
He swung the rough board door wide, slammed it and
disappeared in the darkness.
The young wife watched the bag a moment with
consuming curiosity. She had fiercely resented his
insulting insinuations at her curiosity, and yet she
was wild to look at that glowing pile of gold inside
and picture the old woman's joyous surprise.
Her hand touched the lock carelessly and drew back
as if her finger had been burned. She put her hands
behind her and crossed the room.
"I won't be so weak and silly!" she cried fiercely.
She heard Jim cranking the car. It would take him
five minutes more to start it, get it under the shed
and bring in the suit-case and robes.
"Why shouldn't I see it!" she exclaimed. "He
has told me about it." She hesitated and struggled for
a moment, quickly walked back to the bag and touched
the spring. It yielded instantly.
"Why, it's not even locked!" she cried in tones of
surprise at her silly scruples.
Her hand had just touched the gold when Nance
entered.
She snapped the bag and smiled at the old woman
carelessly. What a sweet surprise she would have
tomorrow morning!
Nance crossed slowly, glancing once at the girl
wistfully as if she wanted to say something friendly,
and then, alarmed at her presumption, hurried on into
the little shed-room.
Mary waited until she returned.
"Room's all ready in thar, ma'am," she drawled,
passing into the kitchen without a pause.
"All right--thank you," Mary answered.
She quickly opened the bag, thrust her hand into
the gold and withdrew it, holding a costly green-
leather jewelry-case of exquisite workmanship. There
could be no mistake about its value.
With a cry of joy, she started back, staring at the
little box.
"Another surprise! And for me! Oh, Jim, man,
you're glorious! My Christmas present, of course! I
mustn't look at it--I won't!"
She pushed the case from her toward the bag and
drew it back again.
"What's the difference? I'll take one little, tiny
peep."
She touched the spring and caught her breath. A
string of pearls fit for the neck of a princess lay
shining in its soft depths. She lifted them with a
sigh of delight. Her eye suddenly rested on a stanza
of poetry scrawled on the satin lining in the trembling
hand of an old man she had known.
She dropped the pearls with a cry of terror. Her
face went white, and she gasped for breath. The jewel-
case in her hand she had seen before. It had belonged
to the old gentleman who lived in the front room on the
first floor of her building in the days when it was a
boarding house. The wife he had idolized was long ago
dead. This string of pearls from her neck the old man
had worshiped for years. The stanza from "The Rosary"
he had scrawled in the lining one day in Mary's
presence. He had moved uptown with the landlady. Two
months ago a burglar had entered his room, robbed and
shot him.
"It's impossible--impossible!" she gasped.
"Oh, dear God--it's impossible! Of course the
burglar pawned them, and Jim bought them without
knowing. Of course! My nerves are on edge today--how
silly of me----"
Jim's footsteps suddenly sounded on the porch, and
she thrust the jewel-case back into the bag with
desperate effort to pull herself together.
CHAPTER XVI
THE AWAKENING
For a moment she felt the foundations of the moral and
physical world sinking beneath her feet. Dizziness
swept her senses. She gripped the table, leaning
heavily against it, her eye watching the door with
feverish terror for Jim's appearance.
She had never fainted in her life. It was absurd,
but the room was swimming now in a dim blur. Again she
gripped the table and set her teeth. She simply would
not give up. Why should she leap to the worst possible
explanation of the jewels? The hatred of old Ella for
Jim and the furious antagonism of Jane Anderson had
poisoned her mind, after all. It was infamous that she
could suspect her husband of crime merely because two
silly women didn't like him.
He could explain the jewels. He, of course, asked
no questions of the pawn-broker. They were probably
sold at auction and he bought them.
It seemed an eternity from the time Jim's foot step
echoed on the little porch until he pushed the door
open and hastily entered, his arms piled with lap-
robes, coats and the dress-suit case in his hand.
He walked with quick, firm step, threw the coats
and robes on the couch and placed the suit-case at its
head. He hadn't turned toward her and his face was
still in profile while he removed the gloves from his
pockets, threw them on the robes, and drew the scarlet
woolen neckpiece from his throat.
She was studying him now with new terror-stricken
eyes. Never had she seen his jaw look so big and
brutal. Never had the droop of his eyelids suggested
such menace. Never had the contrast of his slender
hands and feet suggested such hideous possibilities.
"Merciful God! No! No!" she kept repeating in her
soul while her dilated eyes stared at him in sheer
horror of the suggestion which the jewels had roused.
She drew a deep breath and strangled the idea by
her will.
"I'll at least be as fair as a jury," she thought
grimly. "I'll not condemn him without a hearing."
Jim suddenly became aware of the menace of her
silence. She had not moved a muscle, spoken or made
the slightest sound since he had entered. He had
merely taken in the room at a glance and had seen her
standing in precisely the same place beside the table.
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