Complete Story. As a Thaw in the Spring.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue XVII, 22 October 1904, Page 10

Complete Story. As a Thaw in the Spring.

By

MARAVENE KENNEDY.

Evelyn Brennon looked about the room with timid eyes. From babyhood she bed been afraid of something within and without herself while in this room. She did not analyse her fear; s'.ie knew neither the word analyse nor its meaning, nor did she give much thought to her feelings in the matter. The room was not an unusual one; every house for miles around had its “Parlour,” a room pretty much like the one where Evelyn stood. An ingrain carpet of red and green blocks was on the floor, protected from the boards by a thick interlayer of straw that crunched under each footstep. Six cane-seated chairs stood primly against the walls. The family Bible of imitation morocco and much gilt lettering, outlined by a tidy of insistent white, lay on a highly varnished centre-table that stood to a. b.iir’s-bieadth exactly in the middle of the room. Life-size “crayon” portraits in cheap gilt frames hung on the walls — walls covered with paper design of huge red roses and many green vims against a yellow background. One other frame held a wreath, its leaves and flowers made of hair cut from the head of each dead relative on both sides of the family. Evelyn knew from whose head each little strand of hair had come, and its story of life and of death. She looked at it undisturbed; it was to her neither grotesque nor tragic—just a hair wreath that filled a space between two windows.

She pulled down the shades,smoothed the tidy on the table a bit, and went into the sitting-room with a relieved feeling that the parlour was cleaned and done with for anol her two weeks. The homeliness of the sitting-room, with its bright ragcarpet, its worn chairs, its sewing-ma-chine, its work-basket, and everywhere the reflected touch of human contact, brought a reactive glow to her heart. She breathed joyfully, and went into the ♦•lean, shining kitchen with a little humming rhythm on her lips. 'fall and straight, she had the firm flesh and beauteous glow of health. Her blue eyes had sparkle, her lips redness. She was young, and the blood went through her veins with the ■-bound of youth.

"Evie,” her father’s voice broke in on her humming song, “I’m goin’ to town this afternoon, and you’d best knock up a quick dinner.” “Yes, pa,” she said simply.

lie stood a moment as though in hesitation. then turned to the wash-basin and began io wash his hands. Be was a man of sixty-five, short and stout, his whiskers and hair of a yellowish gray, his eyes yet blue in colour, with a knowing shrewdness and humour. In religion a Baptist, but Jonas Brennon in or out of it; "honest,” his neighbours called him, "but close, very close.” Evelyn had dinner on the table before bo came downstairs. >She wondered a little at the length of time it took him “to clean himself up a bit,” and wondered more at his going to town on other than "market-day.” Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday were “market-days”; on those days the covered waggon was tilled with produce from the farm and taken to town, where, with the other market-wag-gons, it was backed up to the curbing of Dayton’s publie square, its contents displayed on an improvised table of boards set on the sidewalk. Evelyn's great days were those on which she vveut with her father to market. She enjoyed the fivemile drive to town in the early morning hours, the meeting the other market-men on the way. the friendly greetings interchanged. The taking from the waggon the boards and legs of which the table was made, the placing thereon of crisp vegetables, pats of butter, baskets of eggs, dressed poultry, jars of jam ami marmalade—nil this was a joy. But the great joy was in being a part of the crowd; tile people who bought and the people who sold were tho moving creatures of a great drama, mid she was one of them!

Iler fresh young face In Its plain gingham bonnet, smiling in joyous content,

was a picture that caught many a buyer. When some of the market-women, crablied and assertive, told' of the mean traits of their customers, Evelyn always wondered why it was that her buyers were all so pleasant and so easily pleased. As sl.c waited dinner she thought regretfully that her days of going to market were over; she was now the woman of the house, and was needed at home more than at the market-stand. Her reverie was broken by the entrance of her father. Her eyes opened wide as they fell upon him; lie had put on his boiled shirt and la st black suit, clothes that lie wore only at weddings and funerals —even for church on [Sundays they were deemed too

precious. He ate his dinner in siler.ee. and in silence Evelyn waited upon him. She watched him elimb into his new buggy and take up tho lines, watched him eagerly, but said no word—she had been taught wot to speak to her elders till she was spoken to.

He tucked the linen duster about him, tidgetted a little, looked her in the eye. then away again quickly, and said:

“I’m goin’ to bring someone out witlf me; you’d better have fried chicken and short-*tkc for supper. We’ve been pretty lonesome here, Evie. We need someone in your ma’s plate. I'm goin’ to be married to-day, an’ things’ll be cheerier now.” » He had reached the road and was out of sight before she moved. Like a thing stricken she made her way into the house. Someone in mother's place, and mother dead but three months! She dropped into «t chair and stretched her strong young arms across the table and stared dumbly ahead. The plain, hard mother with her economy ami tin iff, her exactions of ob dienee, her meagrely shown affections, had in life been feared as much as loved,. They had been mother and child, never comrades. The distance that dogma and tradition prescribed between parent and child had never been lessened by the narrow, rigid mother. She hail given as she eould and as she knew, and the girl’s stunted sense of love had hungered for no more. Through death *he had become nearer to Evelyn than an life; i.he girl then realised fully how much her mother had meant to

her, and dimly, how much she might have meant had they understood something she eould not name nor grasp, but that stirred uneasily within her. It was that “something” which cried out loudly now. The brutality shown toward herself in this early remarriage did not present itself; she thought only of her mbtber, "suffered for her, bled for her. Mother —and treated in such manner! Faithful wife—and replaced so soon!

“So soon” was the shaft which so sorely wounded her. She had expected her father to marry again, and had he waited a year—the circumspect length of time in that community—she might even have welcomed a woman’s presence in the house. Now, she could only accept it, and in such bitterness of spirit as she had never known before. Iler grief over her mother’s death had been tempered by submission to a. higher will. In this new grief were humiliation, disgust, outraged womanhood.

Straight ami tense she stood in the doorway as her father drove in with the woman who was to take her mother's place. She watched with hard, dry eyes as Jonas, eh uekliug and beaming, lifted ont the new wife and led her strutlingly to where his daughter stood.

“Here's your new ma, Evie.” said he. “Jennie, this is Evelyn, an’ she’s a good girl. too. You’n lier’ll get along »pan kin'.”

‘.per”; be ready by the time you get jour t ilings off,” was Evelyn’s greeting, and turning abruptly, she wont into rhe house.

The fried chicken and short-cake were al! They should be, but only Jonas tlid justice to their merits; the women ate but little. Jonas was not easily upset. lie ate with the relish of robust hunger, looking with boastful pride at both his wife and his daughter. The good looks of his women folk tickled his vanity. That he had cause for pride was proven by the fact that each woman was silently acknowledging the good looks of the other. The older woman with passive regret for her own lost youth, the younger with increased bitterness against the woman who sat in her mother’s place and dared to be fairer than that mother had been.

The second Mrs Brennon was a woman of sixty, with abundant grey hair, waved and becomingly coiled. Hey •yes were brown, soft and bright, and her eheeks were plump and ruddy. Her body was plump, too; and while her shoulders rounded a little, she parried her head proudly alert. Her clothes became her, but they were dressier than Evelyn thought a woman of her age should wear. Still, she was far different from what Evelyn expected

her to be, and in the three days followher bitterness lost itself somewhat in wonder. She could not see bow it Was that such a woman could marry • man whose wife was but- three months dead.

On the fourth day after dinner as Jonas was leaving the kitchen Mrs

Breimon said: _ “I want to go to town this afternoon. Mr Brennon, to do some shopping. You 'had better give me the money before you go, and hitch the horse and tic it to the post; we won’t distjirb you then at your work. Evelyn will go with me. I want her to help select the things.” “Money, eh’’* he said, smiling benignantlv, and handed her a two-dollar bill.

She looked at it a moment, then at him. “You misunderstood me. 1 guess.” she said, laughing. “This shopping is to buy things to fix the house. You remember we talked this over before we were married. 1 will need two hundred dollars.”

Evelyn went swiftly into (he sittingroom and closed the door behind her. With a gasp she covered her face with her hands. Onee on a market-day she had watched a man walk the slack-wire, watched him with dilating eyes till he reached the middle of the wire, then a sudden fear had seized her, and, covering her eyes, she had waited in terrorised agony for the shouts of the crowd to tell her it was over. She was waiting now till it was over. Two hundred dollars! Little creepy shivers chased up and down her hack. For the time being, bitterness and wonder were merged in pity; pity for the woman's disappointment, not only now but always; pity for her father. Would he know what, to say, what to do? Would he not think he had lost his senses, or the woman had lost hers, or—or something wild and calamitous? She shivered again and waited. Mrs Breimon’s yoiee, speaking calmly, aroused her. “If you wilt show me where the things go, Evelyn, I’l clear the table Bud help with the dishes: from now on I’ll take the brunt of things. Your Jia’s right, there’s too much work here for your young shoulders. I wanted first to see the farm. Hereafter when lie talks about this or that lot I’ll know what he means." Evelyn turned slowly and looked svith dazed eyes’at the, woman's cheery face. She was in a maze as she washed the dishes, and all the way to town her big blue eyes looked out from under her little straw hat with its blue ribbons plastered down primly, with bewildered appeal. As purchase after purchase was made it dawned upon her that the new wife had not only had the temerity to ask for the 200 dollars, but—had obtained it! She no longer tried to think things out —it had passed beyond her powers of reasoning. Besides, the purchases were absorbing her attention; wall-paper, carpets, pictures, easy-chairs, a bookcase, a dining-table, and so on. till her mind was benumbed under successive shocks. As they' drove home the woman did the talking. “It’s good to be in the country again.” she said, heartily. “When one’s .been born and raised in the country land lived there for 50 years it ain’t

living, somehow, to be cooped up in * little 35-by-100-foot lot, with no garden and hardly room to hang out a washing decent. I’ve lived in Dayton now ten years, ever since Mr Beardsley d’ed, and to save my life I can’t, get used to buying little dabs of vegetables ami drinking thin milk.” Evelyn’s eyej opened wide, a little gleam of sympathy crept in; she had not dreamed that her step-mother was a countrywoman.

“We'll be pretty busy now. for a few weeks, getting things fixed up,” Mrs Brennon continued. “I’m going to have a porch built on the east side of the house, right oft' the front room, so’s we’ll have a shady place to sit afternoons. I never stay indoors a minute if I can be out. After some

of the trees are cut down on that side it’ll give us a good view of the road and the railroad tracks. We’ll get your pa right away at fixing up things outside, and we'll fix inside.”

The girl’s heart thumped with joy: to have the trees cut so that she could see the road! To have, a porch to sit on afternoons and watch the teams go by! Suddenly her joy died out, her lips set in a hard, straight line. Yes; it would be done for this woman. Her own mother had sat on the back porch and when she wanted to see tire road or the railroad tracks she had had to walk the full length ot the yard and liary; over the bars of the fence! “Your pa thinks too much of earning money and not enough of enjoying it. We’ll have to show him that there’s more profit in spending money the right way than in saving it the wrong way. Men mostly are close, though. Mr Beardsley used to grumble a heap at what he. called my high-falu-tiu’ notions. He liked it, though. They' always do.” Her smile was knowing. “Have you many beaux, dear?” she asked. with natural interest. Evelyn reddened. “1 haven’t any,” she answered, stiffly. “I don’t want any.” The woman laughed pleasantly. “You think you don't, dear, but you wouldn’t be a natural girl if you didn’t. I wouldn’t have missed the beaux out of my life for a good deal. There’s nothing else in the world just like it. Nature knows pretty' much what she’s about. A man who doesn’t like a woman ain’t very much of a man to my notion, and an old maid is, I verily believe. an abomination to the Lord, t think Paul was disappointed in love and it soured him on marriage, or else he wouldn't have written what he did against it. For two people who love each other living together is just the fulfilment of heaven. Y’ou must, have a beau, Evelyn; it goes against the grain wit.fi me to see a pretty young woman who hasn't a man to love her. There’s just no joy can beat the little fluttering and fixing for him. and the waiting to hear liis voice. A woman Who hasn't had that has missed a heap, I can tell you." Evelyn did not answer, but her face slowly brightened. As they drove through their gateway it broke in upon her that .she had listened so intently to this woman's talk that she had forgotten where she was. She hated herself for her interest. Her bright look

faded, her red lips took on a hard ex jnession.

During the next four weeks the dreary parlour was transformed into a cheery sitting-room, and the one-time sittingroom was turned into a dining-room. And Jonas, who had at first stoutly declared tiiat the kitchen was good enough for anyone to eat in, was as pleased with the new order of things as a boy with his first bag of marbles. Grumbling, but secretly chuckling, he changed his sweaty shirt in the evening.- for a clean one, and at meals put on the alpaca coat Mrs Brennon had bought for tiie • purpose. H's whole talk, at market, at church, or wherever ■he could find a listener, was to brag ot the “old lady” and her “doin’s.” His hearers laughed and said, “No fool like an old fool,” but Evelyn knew that he had good cause for his happiness. The new wife had brought new life into the place. Then she was so cheerful; anl while she could pitch in and work with the best of them, she always managed things so that she had plenty of time to take things easy and to go to places. And she always took Evelyn! Yet there could be no real good, the girl reasoned stubbornly, in a woman who set her mother’s memory at naught : who came into her home and look away every mark of the patient, plodding wife and mother. She didn’t care if this woman did fix things up and make tilings lively, she had no business to be there, she had no right to make her father happier than her own mother had made him. Well, he could like her if he wanted to, but she would not. No —no. she would, would not. And Mrs Brennon, with her ready hands and pleasant way, went steadily ahead fixing up the house a nd I he grounds unconscious of Evelyn's resentment. Despite herself the girl was secretly overjoyed. When her own room was changed from a place, to sleep in, with hideously papered wall and bcquilted bed, to a. room made actually beautiful with a few bolts of wallpaper, a few yards of white Swiss, and

some tius of white paint. Evelyn’s eyes opened wide in astonishment, and a sudden compunction swept over her. She undressed herself that night with hurried, trembling fingers, not one& looking around at the dainty, pretty fixings, but keeping her eyes fixed firmly on (he stern young face that looked back at her solemnly from the little Swi>s draped mirror. Iler stepmothers comfortable voice, her father’s happy chuckle, came distinctly to her ears as tliey passed her room. ’No, Jonas,” said Mrs Brennon, in argumentative voice. “I’m not through yet; I waul some new clothes for Evelyn. She’ll only be young once. She’.* too quiet and moping like for a young Evelyn blew out the quickly aud jumped into bed. ’’New clothes for hveb)ii! ’ Iler heart was all of a. flutter. “Too quiet and moping-like.” tier teeth came together with a clinch. If it were not for her she would be lively enough. Did her step-mother think she was always like this? Before this woman came she had been buppy and light-hearted. If she had not come -the girl sprang up and stood, by the side of her lied. The moonlight streamed in and made the room almost as light as by day. She crept softly to the bureau and rubbed her fingers caressingly over its newlypainted surface, touching lingeringly the Swiss scarf, and berutHed pin-cush-ion. fingered lovingly the soft muslin curtains and fresh white shades. She knelt by the window and looked out at the roof of the new porch, at the sweep of cleared ground that gave a view —oil, joyous sight! —of the road and railroad tracks. In strange panting fright, she clasped her hands tightly over her heart. What -what if she had not come?

She crawled into bed again and lay there shaking from head to foot with an awful fear, it was no use. pretending any longer. She wax glad this woman had come. She liked her—liked her—liked her! No. No. She loved

ber, loved her better than she had ever loved her own mother. It was out—• the terrible, guilty truth. She drew' the covers over her face, held them tightly in her clenched, trembling fingers. Could even God forgive sucli wickedness? She tried to pray. The words would not come. Never in all her life had she been so desperately wicked. What if God should visit His wrath upon her? He bad said, ‘Thou ehalt have no other gods before Me.” ,Would He—could He, that jealous God, understand her love for this woman who was no kin to her, whom she had never seen till eight weeks before? Her tongue lay dry to the roof of her mouth, her shaking limbs grew heavy with fear. Yet—yet—yet—she was glad—glad this woman had come. The tense fingers relaxed, slowly; fearfully she peeped out. over the covers at the daintily draped windows, the dressed-up furniture, the little pink roses that, scrambled over each other pn the creamy ground of the walkpaper. And as quickly she closed her eyes against them. “Vengeance is Mine, I Will repay,” thundered in her ears. The days that followed alternated with joy and fear. Tradition and the natural emotions of her heart battled fiercely'. Even a new pale - blue lawn dress and a pretty girlish bat did not lighten her- trouble. The girl’s listless figure, the dull eyes, the pale, tightly drawn lips worried Mrs Brennon considerably. She dosed her with blood medicine and blue mass pills, and insisted on Jonas taking the girl to market with him. At these times it was all Evelyn could do to keep from throwing her arms around her step-mother's neck and crying out how much she loved her. But tradition is strong, and Evelyn was of the fibre that martyrs are made of. She went resolutely every day to her mother's grave over in the back orchard, and laid a bunch of Mowers there. And this nearness to the stern, narrow woman who had borne her kejit Evelyn in the shadow of the rigid, hard diseiJdine she had been raised under. She uid no way' of knowing that the poor mother had been narrow, and eramped, and stern in her dull years of life because tradition had laid its bane on her, too. The cold, dead lips could not cry out to the flesh of her flesh, and bone of her hone, that she had existed only because she did not know how io live, that her poor, cramped soul had shrivelled up because it had not known how to expand. Wearily the girl dragged herself away' from the dull, shadowed spot back to the bright, cheerful farm-house with its neatly kept grounds and new air of homeliness, filled with emotions that she. poor child! could not understand. And there was no one to tell her, no

one fo lift, the burden of guilt from the young bleeding heart, no one to scatter the mists from the girlish mind, no one to whisper that joy needs no excuse for being. Her step-mother, busy, complacent, bail no experience of her own to help her understand what ailed the girl. That she was moping she saw at once, and tried in every way to brighten her up. She made Jonas let her use the new buggy, and coaxed and bullied him into getting her all sorts of girlish gewgaws: a stding of beads, side-combs set with brilliants, a pair of open - work silk inits, a fan with spangles pasted on gauze, a white silk parasol! Evelyn’s delight over these things was unbounded. It made Mrs. Brennon feel good all over just to watch the dimpling face and the bubbling joy of her, as she opened the bundles and saw the precious things. But still she moped.

"Evie must have a beau.” It was in determined voice that Mrs. Brennon made this announcement to Jonas as they sat one evening alone on the new porch. Jonas took a fresh chew and crossed the other leg. "George Black used to hang round here, but Liddy an’ Jane Blaek didn’t jest gee. Jane’s a spankin’ good cook, an’ Liddy an’ her had a failin’ out over some eakes they showed at the Fair. Evie held up for Liddy, an’ George stuck by his ma, of course, an’ him an’ Evie ain’t see each other to speak to sence, as 1 know on. I ain’t never tasted sech pumpkin pies as Jane Black's. Liddy wouldn't ask her for the receipt. Liddy was awful sot in some things.” Next morning Mrs. Brennon hitched the horse to the new buggy and drove over to Jane Black’s, three miles farther up the pike. She settled herself comfortably on Jane's side porch. "There ain't much need of an introduction,” she said with hearty pleasantry. "I’ve been trying to get over here before, but I’ve been so busy fixing things that I’ve not had time to return visits, let alone make ’em. And I ain’t come visiting this time. I'm a fair cook myself, but Jonas has talked so much about your pumpkin pies. I've decided I've got a few things to learn yet. I’d like your receipt, if it ain’t asking too much.” Mrs. Black’s wrinkled, weather-beaten face relaxed into lines almost soft and youthful. "Askin’ too much! Why, Mrs. Brennon, you're welcome to it, an’ anything I have. I know, though, it ain’t any better’ll yourn. Men jest get notions ’bout things. Jonas always did talk a heap about my pumpkin pies. Too much,” she added, significantly. Mrs. Brennon nodded her understanding. She had no intention of discussing the first Mrs. Brenon. She had not come for that. Just then George came in from the field; per-

baps he thought the dinner-gong had sounded, |>erhaps he saw the Brennon rig drive in the gateway, perhaps he expected to find someone else besides the pleasantfaeed matron on the poreh. The latter was the reason Mrs. Brennon gave as she saw him look slyly about and his face suddenly fall. A big, fine-looking young fellow’, with good, alert face and merry eyes, he won Mrs. Brennon’s heart at onee. She greeted him heartily. They talked about the crops and the weather and the pests that plague a farmer almost to death, but both were thinking as hard as could be about “Evie,” and somehow each divined what was in the other’s mind. By the time Mrs. Black came out with the receipt George knew the second Mrs. Brennon better than he had ever known the first one. He gave her a waggish twinkle over his mother's head as she renewed the discussion of the merits of Jane’s pies, and a grateful smile as she insisted on their coming over to supper the very next evening. Jonas smiled, too, then gave a low chuckle as Mrs. Brennon, at dinner, told about her visit and the arrangements made for the following day. Evelyn’s face went red, then while, and all that day and the next she was very quiet; quiet but not moping, her step-mother noted with keen satisfaction. She herself helped her into the new blue lawn dress, tied the long ribbon sash, and arranged the soft hair so as best to show off the new side combs. And very sweet and winsome she looked as she stood shyly behind her stepmother and greeted their visitors. The supper of fried chicken, hot biscuits, crisp cucumbers and tomatoes, plump peas and flaky mashed potatoes, golden-brown coffee and pumpkin pies made from the famous receipt, was one that, to use Jane Black’s own words, “couldn’t be beat.” Jonas sat at the end of the table, twinkling and bristling with good humour, and George Blaek laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks at Jonas’ jokes and yarns. The women laughed, too, and got in occasional jokes of their own that, like Jonas’, had stood them in good stead many a time before. Evelyn was the only quiet one; like a shy, trembling little bird she sat, content with the wonderful lays that came from her joyous, fast-beating But after supper she was strangely afraid, and hovered near her step-mother all the while. Mrs. Brennon looked un-

seeingly at the man's rueful face, and not till nearly time for their visitors to go did she lend him • hand. They were sitting on the new, poreh, looking off down the road that showed clear and white in the moon* light, Evelyn sitting silent between her step-mother and Jane, and George listening dumbly to Jonas' calculations o» the winter price of hay. “I declare if I ain’t left my Paisley shawl down on the corn-bin in the barn!” exclaimed Mrs Breimon, in a sharp, annoyed voice. “T am that careless! Evie, dear, just run down and get it this very minute—l set a heap by that shawl. It was mother’s,” and she plunged info a recital of the numerous accidents that had befallen the priceless heirloom. Evelyn went almost on a run. and they were nearly to the barn before George had said a word; then he caught her in his big, strong arms abd kissed determinedly the soft, flushed face and childishly quivering lips. "Next to you, Evie, she’s the best woman in the world,” was what he said.

"Wasn’t it funny how she knew?” she breathed, rapturously. “Knew what, Evie?” he whispered in teasing, happy voice. "That I love you,” she answered, oK so softly and innocently. Her lover bowed his head humbly against the sweet upturned face. “I’ll be good to you, Evie,” he said huskily. ‘‘l swear it, sweetheart.” She smiled joyously, and understood not at all the humility of the man before her purity and childish trust. Airs Black had her bonnet on ready to start long before they came baek, and, for all the thought they had given it. the precious Paisley shawl might still have been on the corn-bin. had it not lain safely all the while on its own shelf in Mrs Breimon’s clothes-eloset. Side by side, step-mother and daughter watched their company drive away, watelied till the buggy was lost to view in the shadows in the distance. Then the older woman turned slowly. “He’s a fine young man,” she said, more to herself than to the girl. With a. tempestuous, breathless little cry, Evelyin threw her arms around her step-mother's neck, kissed her, clung to her. “I—l hated you at first,” she cried, in a sharp, sobbing voice. The woman patted the soft cheek, her eyes moist and very, very loving. j