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Show jgrX SI3yJH avian Hatcher. -. '"-O. "V lit ration OJrjirvMy-s-. CHAPTER XVI Continued 1 , 20 Cynthia almost grew to love Jane for the way she came Into the house after her marriage to Jasper. Jane was radiant in her own hap-piness: hap-piness: It overflowed her heart and expanded to Include the whole Pattern Pat-tern household. She maintained the most admirable poise between the new mistress of the house as Jasper's Jas-per's wife, and a guest of honor at Cynthia's wedding. There were no bristling or stuck-up city ways about her. She was helpful, unobtrusively unob-trusively managing the details of the kitchen and assigning guests to the bedrooms. The womenfolk spoke of it: "I reckon she can carry on a place right well Jasper's Jas-per's wife Is a mighty fine girl. ! yes, she takes right a -hold of things. She'll be a good manager, i Jasper might have gone further and fared worse. Julia always i said she was a fine girl. She comes ! from might good people, Jane Bur- , den does. Wolfpen's a good place j and I don't reckon it'll suffer any j with her In the house. . . ." ! Jasper moved around as the head j of the house. It amused Cynthia, j when she had time to give it a ' thought, to see Jasper consciously ! trying to act the role of Sparrell, j imitating his stride across the yard, I his phrases of welcome to men and I women, his Inflections, his courtesy j and manner in the house. "There I is nobody else In the world he could better pattern after, though, and I I don't reckon anybody else besides I me notices it. Maybe it'll come nat- ! ural to him after a while." j Cynthia wanted to be married in I her mother's wedding dress. "It I will be like having her here her-! her-! self," she thought. "Maybe she is. j The way I used to talk about Grandfather Saul stalking around over the place. In her dress, en-j en-j veloping me in her, that would be I a good omen of happiness like j hers." The dress had been long In the cedar-lined closet. It smelled ! of the trees and was scarcely faded, j The shoulders and the waist were j exact In their fit, but the skirt was ! an inch and a half too long. Jane I and Lucy bent on their knees and I pinned It up ; then they ran a neat ' hem around its wide fullness. "If I had been only two incites taller, or an inch, say. Lucy and Jenny are : tall. But I have better shoulders and a waist like Mother's and It's i no real trouble to stitch In a hem." She was beautiful In this gown, j so daintily quaint; the heavy coll of black hair above the smooth ! soft skin of her forehead, her i cheeks pink-flushed, and the look in ! her eyes as they turned up to Reu-; Reu-; ben's. People spoke of it. She stood i with him on the porch by the door i to the parlor so the people could i see the ceremony. All Wolfpenwas I aglow with the day, the sense of ! new life throbbing through the hol-j hol-j low. There were sprays of wild hon- eysuckie in the stone Jars In the doorway and on each side. The I clove bush by the steps gave off Its I first smell of spice. While they were standing there, i Cynthia happened to look across the ! yard to tiie pear tree by the well. ! The buds had burst suddenly under : the sun. "I'll be a pear tree by the ! well with pink-edged blossoms and ! gold In the heart . . . better be ; standing there with a sprig of blos-i blos-i soius in your hand. . . . And I was j a sight and covered with corn-meal I" j "Oh, Eeuben," she whispered, "the ; pear tree. Look!" I She held the skirt of her wedding gown above the grass and went to the tree. She reached for the long i spray that hung over the well box, ' bending it down and looking back l over her shoulder at Reuben who had followed her, watching her. She smiled at him across the blossoms. "You're as pretty as a picture 1 there," he said. Then he broke the i branch for her and she carried It long her arm as she went back to i the porch for the ceremony. She I held It In her left hand across her j breast when jhe snld to Amos Barnes for Reuben, "I do." And when Reuben placed the ring on her finger she held the spray on her right arm, thinking. "The actual marrying itself Is right simple. I 1 guess It is the feel In a body's heart that makes It not simple. 'Do you take this man to be your wedded husband?' and for all that means ire only two of the tiniest words in the whole world, 'I do.' But I do!" : The ceremony affected the Gannon Gan-non Creek folks who come to It, finding the emotion akin to that of funeral. Then the dinner was laid on long tables on the porch nd In the dining room and kitchen. The men were merry. The women were efficient In serving the food. ! It was almost as If no new thing tad come Into the hills; as If Cyn-I Cyn-I till were not marrying a man from i down the river but a Gannon Creek boy. Then It was said that Reuben was one of the Pike county Warrens War-rens who went to Lawrence and Scioto counties In Ohio at the time Julia Pattern's people went there, and that seemed to make the union complete. Many of the women brought gifts to Cynthia of needlework and the loom. "It ain't much, Cynthia, and nothing you couldn't do yourself, but you can remember us by it." "As If I needed anything to make me remember all you folks." Shellenberger brought gifts: a gray telescope with leather-bound edges and brass corners and yellow straps around it, and a silk umbrella. "You've been mighty good to me, you and your folks. Here's a little present for you. I wish you much happiness." That was all he ever said about the board money. The people thought the gifts princely, In keeping with Shellenberger and the fine words on a cultivated tongue. Cynthia at first hardly knew whether to take them or not. But the telescope was a beautiful piece of luggage for a young bride going away for the first time on a far journey, and she had never had an umbrella." A body doesn't pay money for a place to sleep and a bite to eat in our country, anyway. I reckon reck-on it was right nice of him to think of it." In the evening when the people were gone away, Hessie Mason remained, re-mained, silently waiting a chance to say a word to Cynthia. "Ma was a right smart worried she couldn't come." "I wish she could have come, Hessie. Hes-sie. You tell her." (Should I ask her about Doug? or just let It pass like it is? Ask, just as If nothing noth-ing ever happened.) "And how Is Doug?" There was reproach In the sallow eyes as Hessie spoke. "He still frets a sight. He's been calming down some now. He's learning to do things all right now. He plowed the garden yesterday. If he turns his head to the off side, he can see the furrow. He stumbles a bit, and when he cuts too wide a swath he gets in a fit of temper. It makes a body right heart-sick to watch him. If some people had done the right thing by him it wouldn't never have happened. He won't give up. He's going to do all the plowing. I reckon he'll get along all right." All this she uttered In a slow even voice. "I hope he does, Hessie." "He's powerful proud. He knew he couldn't have you after it happened hap-pened to him. He'd kill hlsself to try to do about the place just like nothing happened. He won't let anybody say anything about It." This seemed to be the thing she wanted to say, more with her eyes full of reproach and the tone of her voice than with the words. Cynthia Cyn-thia did not go on with it. It would be Idle to try to explain It so Hessie Hes-sie could understand. She handed her a basketful of things from the table. ' "You take these to your mother) Hessie, and to Doug." Jasper got her mule and led It up to the horse-block. She gave Cynthia Cyn-thia a last look from her hooded eyes and sallow face. "I guess I'll be going now. You leaving tomorrow?" tomor-row?" "Yes. Tomorrow morning," Cynthia Cyn-thia said, watching her ride stolidly through the gate. Cynthia's shoulders trembled, and she ran to the porch where Reuben was standing. She slipped her arm through his for reassurance and looked up at him. He smiled at her and stroked her hand. "I hope we're going to have the sun for our trip on the boat tomorrow." to-morrow." "I am sure we will." The evening was soft with spring and the pale moon. Cranesnest was quiet under the stars. The Milky Way lay like a wisp of fog once more over Wrolfpen as It had lain In the days of Saul Pattern, calm and Immemorial above the affairs of this hollow. Looking up the dark hillside to the night sky, Cynthia had the sensation that the year was a dream and the events that had befallen It no more substantial than this plume of white mist In the space above her. They sat In the evening as a family fam-ily on the old porch Tlvls and Spar-rel Spar-rel had built: Lucy and her family, Jasper and Abral, Jenny and her family, Jasper and Jane, Cynthia and Reuben. The talk was of the life on Wolfpen through the years, of the Incidents In their family life. Reuben sat very quiet holding Cynthia's Cyn-thia's hand, Cynthia going out to be one of the family for a sentence or two, then hurrying back to be lost in her world with Reuben. "Married. My name Is not Pattern any more but Warren. Cynthia Warren, Mrs. Reuben Warren. His liand is hot In a little while we will go to bed. Together. I always thought I would be plagued and bashful when. Eut I'm not We've been married now, eleven to about eight, say nine or ten hours his wife. I am ready, Reuben. I love you." Abral broke the circle and everybody every-body arose. "I got some news for you, Cynthia. Mrs. Warren. Tomorrow I go down Gannon with a raft And then I'm going up to Pittsburgh." He stamped a few jig steps in his excitement "Don't ram it into Hart's barn down on that bend." "I go around all the curves. I'll be carving them before you're up, and I'm going to bed." Cynthia had put on the walnut bed the lace-edged pillow case, the fine sheets Julia had hemstitched, and the choicest of the colored quilts wrought into Intricate needlework nee-dlework patterns. She was poignantly poig-nantly aware of Reuben in the room. She did not light the lamp or candle. The glow from the moon filtered into the room. She stood for a moment by the window looking look-ing down the hollow. It was stirring stir-ring with spring and there was a whispering among the trees on the hillside. She could hear Reuben in movement In the room behind her. Under the moon the pear tree by the well looked to be bursting into full bloom under the pent-up urge of Its nature. Reuben's movements had ceased and the room was quiet She turned from the window. Reuben Reu-ben was standing by the foot-post of the bed. She moved joyously toward to-ward him through the dim moonglow. Abral had gone before daybreak ; out into the great world at last. Jasper had taken one of the plow mules to Poplar Bottom to turn the ground. Jesse was getting ready the t mm ts'f ,jyJ 'iff ITlf-f;'i - She Moved Joyously Toward Him Through the Dim Moonglow. Finemare and the mules for the journey to the river and the boat. Jane and Lucy had the breakfast prepared. While Jesse and Beuben were strapping the small trunk and the new telescope on the pack-mule, Cynthia made a last visit about the house. She took down the Boone powder-horn and Sparrel's pioneer clothing and looked at them. She went Into the medicine - room to smell the herbs her father had left there. She charged Jane to watch over the things her father had left In the desk by the mantel. She went Into the weaving room for the last time and sat by the loom, feeling feel-ing the tears form, lifting in her hands a ball of yarn, the last one Julia had dyed. "It Isn't so easy to leave everything. Maybe Jane will learn to use It She takes hold of things. But It isn't so easy." Then she took the two volumes of the history worn yellow by Sparrel's thumbs through the years when he read to her, and a few packets of the flower-seeds Sparrel had gathered gath-ered from Julia's garden, and packed them to carry away with her. She heard through her tears the voice of Reuben speaking to Jesse and there was laughter in it. She thought of the cottage in the orchard or-chard above the rivers. The cherry trees would be in bloom when they got there. That would be her place, as Wolfpen had been Julia's and was Jane's. "It Isn't so hard to leave everything, going with Reuben." Jesse rode away with chem. Jane stood at the kitchen door, as Julia used to do when Sparrel was riding over to town. She waved to Cynthia, Cyn-thia, and Reuben lifted his hat, returning re-turning the farewell. Lucy and Jenny and their children were in the yard. They found Jasper at work in Poplar Bottom and bade him good-by there. "Take care of yourself," your-self," he said, "and come up and see us now before long." They took the more difficult tral! around Cranesnest because Cynthia did not want to pass the spot where her father was struck down. At the top of the mountain they stopped to look down for the last time into Wolfpen. The mill was silent and the pond was dark with the shadow of the hill behind It. The shelf of graves was hidden by Cranesnest The house and orchard were far away, tiny and quiet. Under Un-der them Poplar Bottom looked to be standing on edge. Jasper was plowing, the old iron plow blade flashing In the sun when he turned at the end of the row. He strode the furrows like his father, only it was not Sparrel. He called to Sparrel's Spar-rel's mule in the cadence of Sparrel's Spar-rel's voice; it lay poised in the hollow hol-low like a thin fog and then floated float-ed up to Cynthia's ears on the mountaintop. It was only an echo of Sparrel's call. It was a moment of sentiment for Cynthia, and of vision. The turned earth lay brown and naked to the sun, fertile and ripe for seed. Death was now no more. Death was gone with the winter snow, buried in the earth to be reborn. Perhaps Sparrel Spar-rel lay with content by Saul and Barton and Tivis above his fields and those of his fathers, seeing Jasper Jas-per In the long furrows. Perhaps Julia rests in peace by Sparrel's side, seeing Jane raking seed into her garden, knowing the secret swelling that would plump the new wife's womb before the roasting ears were ripe. Death had come to Wolfpen suddenly, violently. Then, reserved and silent once more, it had withdrawn into the dark places of the earth beyond the sight of men, yielding place for another season sea-son to the urgence and assertion of life under the sweet ache and thrust of the sun, and the moist nurture of the rain. They rode on through the forest around the Cranesnest Ridge, Reuben, Reu-ben, Cynthia, the pack mule, Jesse, in file. The sun shone on the budding bud-ding trees. At the end of the ridge where the trail began to drop into the Big Sandy Valley, Cynthia stopped to look back. The top of the Pinnacle was just visible from this point when the trees were not In leaf. It was taking the sun on its yellow edge, enduring above the desolation In Dry Creek like the nobility no-bility in the human soul outstanding outstand-ing the schemes and exploitations of little and selfish men. Cynthia turned from It to the road ahead. Stretched below her was the timeless circling of the river riv-er through the valley toward the sea. "I reckon this Is good-by to Wolfpen," Wolf-pen," she said, patting the neck of the Finemare and looking at Reuben. "And welcome to an orchard at the other end of the river," Reuben Reu-ben smiled to her. "And don't miss your boat, you two," Jesse said. THE END. |