Chapter XIII A SOB IN THE DARK
When Durgan had said good-night to the sisters, he made the warm moonlight night an excuse for wandering. He sat down a little way off, able to watch the lights in the house, and also the stunted oak into whose keeping he had seen Miss Smith confide something. He felt pretty sure that, as soon as the house was shut up for the night, the dogs as usual within, 'Dolphus would appear to take money from the tree.
The house was closed; the curtained windows ceased to glow; but no one climbed the tree.
The oaks were on rocky, windy ground, the old trees gnarled and conspicuous above the denser growth of low shrub. The thought of spying on any of Miss Smith's plans was revolting; his only wish was to see that the negro did not approach the house. He felt at last compelled to descend to this tree, to be sure that no one lurked near it. He had marked it by a peculiar fork in its upper part, but he lost sight of this fork on entering the thin wood, and moved about carefully for some time before he found it, and then no one was to be seen. He stood nonplused, wondering how long he ought to guard the house.
The white light fell on the small leaves and the gray moss and lichen which covered the oak branches. It cast sharp interlacing shadows beneath. The under thicket was of those small, aromatic azaleas which can put forth their modest pink and white blossoms in sterile places. To these bushes has been given a rare, sweet scent, to console them for lack of splendor. Durgan's senses were lulled by this scent, by the soft air and glamor of light. He stood a long while, not unwillingly, intent upon every sight and sound. No hint of any human presence came near him.
It seemed to him at length that he heard steps a long way down the hill on the cart-road. He thought he heard voices.
Now he felt sure the negro was coming, and he was exceedingly angry to believe that Eve was with him. Who else could be there? He shuddered to think that this false, soulless creature knew every door and window in the house, every soft place in the hearts of her mistresses, perhaps every fear they entertained. With her to help, and with some prior knowledge of the sisters' secret as the basis of his operations, what tortures might not this villain inflict, what robbery might he not commit, without fear of accusation? Durgan felt angry with Eve; the other only roused his contempt. With real rage, a passion strong in his Southern nature, he slipped silently out, ready to confront the two.
But now again there was silence. He could hear nothing. At every turn the lone beauty of the place met him like a benediction. He waited. There was nothing—no one.
Then—ah, what was that sound? what could it be—like a gasp or sigh, far away or near? One soft but terrible sob. That was all; but Durgan felt his spirit quail. His rage was gone; he did not notice its absence.
The moments in which he listened seemed long, but almost instantly he found himself wondering if he had really heard anything at all. He went as quickly and quietly as he could, by the trail and the mine, to the road below, and saw 'Dolphus some way beneath, walking slowly, not up but down the road. The casual aspect of his figure, the slight consumptive cough, effaced the weird sensation of a minute before.
"Hi!" cried Durgan.
Bertha's terriers in the barn barked cheerfully in answer to his well-known voice. The mountain echoed a moment.
'Dolphus stood, hat in hand. A fit of coughing seized him. Durgan went down the road.
"What are you doing here?"
"Trapping for coon, sir."
"Not coon."
"Yes, sir; I was prospecting for a likely place to set a trap. The gentleman I've been servant to wrote and said he'd pay me for coon skins."
"You lie."
"Yes, sir."
He stood still submissively. The full light of the moon fell on him between the shadows of the high and drooping trees. The dust of the road absorbed and partly returned the pearly light. The sylvan beauty of this sheltered bank was all around. What a sorry and absurd figure the mulatto made! His silky hair, parted in the middle and much oiled, received also the glint of the moon. His long side-whiskers hung to his shoulders; his false jewelry flashed. This man, whose shirt-fronts and manners were already the envy of darkydom in Deer Cove, looked indeed so pitiful an object in these rich surroundings, that Durgan felt that he had overrated his power for mischief.
"I said you lied. What do you mean by saying 'yes'?"
"I would not contradict you, sir. Reckon I lied. I'm a dying man, sir; you could knock me down with a straw, sir."
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to do a service for Miss Smith. She's a holy one, sir. When I found I wasn't long to live, I thought I oughter serve her if I could."
"Serve her? You are trying some sort of trick to get money."
"Miss Smith'll see that I'm comfortable as long as I live, sir. That's all I want."
"You're trying some game to enrich yourself, and you've got Adam's wife helping you."
'Dolphus laughed out; it was a weak, hysterical giggle. "Beg pardon, sir, but the woman ain't in it. Beg pardon, I can't help laughing, sir. Reckon good, religious ladies would be a sight better off without that thieving yaller girl waiting on them."
He laughed weakly till he coughed again.
Durgan, revolted beyond measure, swore within himself that Eve should never pollute the house of the sisters by entering it again.
"Get home. Get out of my sight. If you come out here again I'll have the General turn you out of the district."
He spoke as to a dog, but the dog did not turn and run. He leaned against a tree out of sheer weakness, but faced his enemy steadily.
"No, sir; you can't frighten me, 'cause I'm a dying man, anyway. Miss Smith, she'll speak to the General, and to the Almighty too, for me. I'll die easier 'cause I know she will." His voice had grown thin, and now vibrated with excitement. "I've just got one thing more to say, sir. You'll see I'm not frightened of you when I say it. If you knew the sort o' wife you've got, sir, and what she's been hiding, you'd look after her better than you do; and if you value your salvation, you'll stand by the pious little lady on the hill; you'll be happier when you come to die."
"Look here, my good fellow; you're very ill, I see; you're delirious. Go home and get to bed."
"Yes, sir, I'll go. But study on what I've said, sir; for it's gospel truth, as I'm a dying man."
"Can you manage to go alone? Shall I wake Adam to help you home?"
'Dolphus laughed again. "No, don't wake Adam, sir. I'll go safer alone."
Durgan, now convinced that hectic fever had produced delirium, went as far as Adam's cabin to consult him. To his surprise, he found it empty.