The first difficulty which apparently6 opened an impassable gulf7 between them was the suit which John Graham had begun to regain8 possession of the estate. The language in which his complaint had been drawn9 was the limit of bitter accusation10 permitted in a legal document—parts of it, indeed, the Court had ordered stricken from the record as scandalous and irrelevant11.
Stella’s eyes danced with excitement as she read in the morning’s paper the announcement of his withdrawal12 of this suit. The news was accompanied by a brief statement which might have been written as a personal apology to her for the language he had used.
“I beg leave to say to the public in withdrawing this action that I regret the overheated language in which the original complaint was expressed.”
Without a moment’s hesitation13 she seized her pen and wrote him an invitation to call. Her words revealed the deeply laid scheme on which her mind had seized in a flash of inspiration. She read and reread it carefully:
My dear Mr. Graham:
Permit me to thank you for the manly14 words of retraction15 which you have used in this morning’s paper.-Your withdrawal of this suit and the generous manner in which it was done, removes the only barrier to our friendly acquaintance. I wish to renew it, and ask you to please accept at once the position of my personal attorney in the settlement of my father’s estate. Your influence in the courts of North Carolina, your eloquence16 and genius will, be of invaluable17 service to an orphan18 girl who needs the advice of one on whose integrity she can absolutely rely.
Trusting that you may honour me by answering this request in person at three o’clock this afternoon.
Sincerely,
Stella Butler.
John Graham could not believe his senses when he first read this letter. The boy had turned and gone without waiting for an answer and he sat stupefied by a whirl of conflicting emotions.
He read it again, bent19 and kissed her name. He had never before seen her handwriting. He studied it with curious interest. Its deep lines revealed with startling distinctness traits of a remarkable20 character. It was full of long strokes of the pen with equal emphasis across, up and down. The letters were unevenly21 formed, showing the self-willed, imperious spirit that had refused to copy the lines set by another hand, and yet the effect was pleasing and held the eye in a continuous surprise at its sensational22 curves and dashes. Through every line he felt the throb23 of an intense nature, which seemed to sink into inaudible whispers of emotion in the queer little twists of the pen with which each sentence ended.
He placed the note in an inner pocket. Had he received this invitation yesterday, he would have locked his doors, shouted and danced for joy at the opportunity to press her hand again and look into those deep brown eyes that haunted him waking or dreaming. Now it was a serious question. Within twenty-four hours he had received confirmation24 of two suspicions which had oppressed him since the night of Butler’s death—that his father might have committed the deed and that Billy was in the party of masqueraders.
In either case, the stain of the Judge’s blood was on the house of Graham and the Angel of Death stood with drawn sword barring the way of his happiness. He would not seek the hand of Stella with the blood of her father on his own. He would accept the moral responsibility of his father’s act or that of his younger brother. He had reproached himself bitterly that he had neglected to know and teach his high-strung younger brother as he might. The mother dead, his father a hopeless mental invalid25, Billy had grown up with no hand to guide his wayward fancy. It was not to be wondered at that he soon recognised no authority save that of his own will.
Stella’s request had brought John face to face with the problems of his father and Billy. He must know the truth before he could answer that letter. Better to strangle the love that was fast swelling26 in his heart than wait until the hour when the call of love might drown the voice of honour.
He left his office and went at once to his father’s room. The Major was dressed with his habitual27 care, his linen28 spotless, his boots carefully polished, his thin white hair brushed straight back from his high forehead. He was seated in his armchair, gently stroking with his chalk-white bony hand his delicate ghostly beard, while delivering to Alfred one of his interminable talks of the old life in the South. At times he forgot the war and the horrors which followed and reenacted the scenes of the past until his former slave, too full to bear more, would stop him tenderly, and get him to change the subject.
“Leave us awhile, Alfred,” John said, on entering.
“Yassah,” the old butler answered, bowing himself out with stately dignity.
John closed the door and drew his chair close to the Major’s.
“Father, I want to ask you something very particular,” he began.
The old man smiled indulgently.
“Well, out with it, you young rascal29! You’ve been flying round her long enough. I knew it would come at last. So she’s got you, has she! Well, well, Jennie’s a fine girl, my boy; I danced at her father’s and mother’s wedding. I wish I had more to give you. You’ll have to be content with the lower plantation30, and a dozen slaves to start with.”
“Listen, father,” John urged, stopping him with a gentle pressure on his arm. “And try to remember. Have you encountered Butler lately?”
“Change our butler!—what better butler do you want than Alfred? He’s an aristocrat31 to his finger tips. I wouldn’t think of reducing him from his present rank; what has he done to offend any one?”
“I mean the Judge who took the house—I mean Judge Butler.”
“Ah! A man of low origin and no principle, my son—a renegade who betrayed his people for thirty pieces of silver—silver stained with blood—a dirty, contemptible32 office-seeker. I wouldn’t lower myself by speaking to such a man.”
“Yes, I know father,” John broke in, “but I’m trying to recall to your memory the visits you have made at night lately to the old home.”
“Of course, I love the old home. I was born here. I brought my bride here. I’ll never leave it except for a better world.”
John felt a lump rise in his throat and rose to go. It was useless. Besides, the thing was unthinkable. How could this feeble old man spring on one of Butler’s physique and stab him to death. He couldn’t, except in a moment of superhuman frenzy33 which sometimes comes to the insane. There was the thought which returned again and again to torment34 him! Aunt Julie Ann declared the ghost was seen to pass through the hall and go upstairs but a few moments before the tragedy. Yes, it was possible.
John peered into his father’s restless eyes with a mad desire to lift the mysterious veil that obscured the world from his vision. The horror of the sickening tragedy strangled him and he turned, abruptly35 leaving the room.
He sought Billy with a growing sense of helpless and bitter despair. Since the day of their brief quarrel which followed the demonstration36 before old Larkin, Billy had avoided John. Since Butler’s death they had scarcely spoken. The effect of this tragedy on his headstrong younger brother first led John to suspect his membership in the newly organised Klan under Steve’s leadership.
John found him in his room reading.
“Billy, I must have a serious talk with you,” the older brother began.
“All right, sit down,” the boy answered, laying aside his book.
“A youngster of eighteen who keeps to his room for days at a time and reads is either sick or has something on his mind.”
“Which do you think?” Billy asked, looking vaguely37 out the window.
“I’ll answer you by asking a question, and I want you to answer on the honour of a Graham. Are you a member of Steve Hoyle’s Klan?”
“You have no right to ask that question,” was the hot reply.
“Yes, I have,” John slowly said, “for two reasons. As the organiser of the original Ku Klux Klan in this state I hold myself in a measure responsible for its existence even in its lowest forms. But that’s not all, my boy, you’re my brother, and I love you.”
Billy’s eyes blinked and he looked at the ceiling. He had never heard such an expression from John’s lips before.
“I wish I’d slipped my arm around you and told you that long ago. I’ve always been proud of your high-strung, sensitive spirit, proud in my own heart that we were of the same blood, and I want to ask you to forgive me for seeing so little of you and being of so little help to you.”
A sob38 caught the boy’s breath.
“You’ll let me help you now?” John asked tenderly, extending his hand.
Billy rose trembling, his eyes running over with tears, took a step toward the door, turned and threw himself into John’s arms, sobbing39 bitterly.
The older brother held him close for a moment in silence, and slowly said at last:
“Now tell me.”
“I was at Judge Butler’s that night!”
John sank to a chair with a groan40.
“My God! I knew it!”
“But, of course, you know that I had nothing to do with any attack on a man in whose house I was a guest,” he went on rapidly. “The whole thing is a horrible mystery to us all. Every man in our crowd was in the ballroom41 dancing.”
“How did you know that?” John interrupted sharply.
“Because I counted them as they entered.”
“You counted them?”
“Yes.”
“Then you were in command of the crowd?” Billy hesitated a moment, and said:
“Yes!”
John drew a deep breath and turned his head away in anguish42.
“I could not resist the temptation to lead them. I wanted to see inside the old house again—you understand. I never dreamed of anything happening.”
“None of the boys were drinking?”
“No, and there wasn’t a fool among them—they were all my chums and friends in town.”
“Then go at once and tell them that I say to put a thousand miles between them and this town in the next forty-eight hours—to Texas if possible.”
“Why?” asked Billy with a touch of wounded pride.
“There are a hundred reasons—one is enough. There’s a price on the head of the man who committed that crime.”
“My men didn’t do it!”
“Granted. But one of these fine days a white-livered traitor43 may crawl from your Klan and claim his reward of gold or office. You will be convicted in ten minutes.”
Billy turned pale, and straightened his boyish figure.
“Well, I’ll tell my men to go. I’ll not run.”
“You can serve your men best by going. The bravest general always knows when to retreat.”
“I’ll stand my ground.”
“You must go. I can fight for you better with a thousand miles between us. I’ll play a trick on my Yankee friends this time. I’m going to send you North into the enemy’s country—to college.”
Billy was trembling now with a new excitement. His heart was set on a college career and he hadn’t as yet hoped to find the way.
“How will you do it?” he asked eagerly.
“Old Nickaroshinski will take my note. I’ll borrow the money.”
The boy smiled for the first time in a month.
“Oh! John, you’ve taken a load off my soul.”
John’s hand crushed the letter from Stella, which he was unconsciously grasping in his pocket.
“And you’ve piled one on my soul under which I’ll stagger to the grave,” he cried within, outwardly answering with a smile and warm grip of the hand as he said:
“Quick now, boy. Don’t lose a minute. There will be some heart-broken mothers in town tomorrow night. There’s but one choice: the plains of the West, or a prison pen.”
“I’ll go at once,” Billy cried, seizing his hat and hastily leaving.
Pale and haggard, John slowly returned to his office. He looked at his watch. It was five minutes to three. Stella was waiting to receive him. He could hear the low sweet tones of her voice greeting him, and see her great brown eyes smiling their welcome.
But his mind was made up. Safety lay in flight. He wrote a brief reply to her letter.
My dear Miss Butler:
I thank you for the honour you do me in the request you make. I regret that I cannot see my way clear at present to accept your offer. I have many reasons, and I beg you to believe that they are very serious ones—otherwise I would hasten to answer in person your call.
With sincere regrets,
John Graham
Stella received the note with mingled44 surprise and rage, and immediately wired the Attorney General in the cipher45 code he had given her asking for the assistance for two months of the best detective the Secret Service could command.
General Champion replied within two hours. “Mr. Ackerman leaves here to-night. He will report to you in Independence to-morrow.”
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1
entrap
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| v.以网或陷阱捕捉，使陷入圈套 | |
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meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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4
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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10
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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11
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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15
retraction
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| n.撤消；收回 | |
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16
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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17
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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19
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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20
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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unevenly
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| adv.不均匀的 | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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24
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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25
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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29
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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33
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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34
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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35
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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36
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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37
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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38
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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39
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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40
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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41
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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42
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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43
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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44
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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45
cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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