A STORMY INTERVIEW ON THE BRIDGE
Probably Noah Lyon had never felt anything like the emotion of anger in his being against his brother until they met that day on the bridge. As one and another had said several times, no two men of the same blood and lineage could have been more differently constituted. Noah had been a diligent student as a boy, and a constant reader in his maturity; while Titus had been the black sheep of the family, had neglected his studies in his youth, and did not even read a newspaper in his manhood, unless for a special purpose.
Titus could read and write, and knew enough of arithmetic to enable him to keep the accounts of his business. Whatever he learned after he left school he gathered from the speech of people; and as his associates were not of the intelligent class in his native town any more than they were in his new home, his education was very limited and his moral aims, if he could be said to have any, were not elevated enough to keep him very far within the limits of the law, which were his principal tests between right and wrong.
Before he was twenty-one he obtained a position to drive a stage on a twenty-mile route, so that he spent every other night at a tavern; and this did not improve his manners or his morals. As a boy he had become disgusted with farming, and had learned the trade of a mason, working at it three years. Like his elder brother, he was a horse fancier, and was a skilful driver. An accident to the old stage-driver placed him on the box, and when the place became permanent he was only twenty years old.
With so little intellectual and moral foundation as he had laid for his future character, it was a misfortune for him that he was then a "good-looking fellow." He boarded at the tavern, and paid only two dollars a week in consideration of his position, for it was believed that he had some influence with his passengers. He was well supplied with money for one of his age in the country, and he spent all he had.
He was an agile dancer, which, with his good looks, made him popular in the town, especially with the girls. Amelia Lenox was a pretty girl. She had a fancy for the handsome stage-driver; and, in spite of the earnest objections of her father and mother, she accepted him as her husband, and they were married. Titus took a cottage near the tavern, and for a year, with the help of his and her father, they got along very well.
All of a sudden a railroad shot through the town, and the business of the place was gone in the twinkling of an eye. The wages of Titus stopped, and he had a wife and child to support. He went to his father for advice. The mason, who had done a good business in the town and its vicinity, had grown old. Hopestill Lyon, the grandfather of the boys, was his best friend, and bought out his business for Titus.
For several years he worked well, made some money, and paid his grandfather for the investment made on his behalf. But he did not like the business. Unlike his brothers, he seemed to believe that fate, destiny, circumstances, or some other indefinable power that regulates the worldly condition of mortals, had misused and abused him; for he ought to have been "born with a silver spoon in his mouth," with wealth at his command, so that he could live in luxury without work.
When he built chimneys, plastered rooms, or jobbed in filthy drains and smutty fireplaces, he labored with an active protest against his occupation in his soul, which extended down to his hands and feet, shutting out ambition, and making him lazy. He was always on the lookout for some other occupation, or for some change which would put more money in his pocket. He did a vast deal of grumbling and growling at his lot, occasionally taking home with him a gallon jug of New England rum, which did not improve his condition. He was not a drunkard, but he was unconsciously falling into a bad habit.
His wife was an intelligent woman, and was a good helpmate; but it did not require a prophetic vision to read the future, near or distant, of Titus Lyon. It was said by some of the old people in the town that he "took after" his grandmother, who had been a stylish woman in her younger days, though the solid character of Hopestill Lyon had controlled her inclinations so that she made him a good wife.
Mrs. Lyon reasoned kindly with Titus; but before she left her Northern home she had lost whatever influence she had ever exercised over him. He was eager to settle in Kentucky when the colonel's letter announcing an opening for him came, and she was utterly opposed to the plan. It was at least a change, and he was determined to make it, in spite of the fact that his brother could not advise him to do so; and the result proved the solidity of the colonel's judgment.
For seven years Titus fawned upon his wealthy brother. He was as obsequious in his presence as one of the field-hands of Riverlawn; but the colonel did not believe in him as he did in Noah, especially after his long visit to the latter. When the health of the planter began to be slightly impaired a couple of years before his death, Titus was sordid enough to think of what would become of his plantation, which seemed like a mine of wealth to him, at the decease of the owner.
He had talked planting, hemp, and horses to the colonel, and did all he could to impress him with the belief that he was competent to manage the plantation. It was his nature to believe in what he desired, and he was satisfied that Riverlawn would be bequeathed to him, as it ought to be. The reading of the will was a shock to him. The giving of ten thousand dollars more than his fair share to Noah, who lived far away, and had never even seen the plantation, in consideration for bringing up the two orphans of his brother, excited his wrath.
He regarded this gift as an absolute wrong to him, while he was compelled in pay the note out of his own share. He went home from Riverlawn that day choking down his anger; but he was furious in the presence of his wife, though she did all she could to console him. She pointed out the fact that he now owned his place clear of any debt, and had twenty thousand dollars in cash, stocks, and bonds; but he was not satisfied. He wanted Riverlawn, where he could live in style, with an abundant income without work.
As he brooded over his fancied wrong, it came to his mind that the colonel's ante-mortem inventory had not included the value of the negroes on the plantation. He hastened over to see Colonel Cosgrove, the executor. He exhibited a copy of the will, and Titus studied over it for half a day. Nothing was said about the slaves. Then he went to another lawyer with whom he had had some political dealings; but this gentleman assured him that he had no remedy; the colonel had an undoubted right to dispose of his property as he pleased, even if he had given the whole of it to Noah. He had bequeathed the plantation, the mansion, with all that was in or on them, or appertaining to them; and this included the negroes.
For nearly two years Titus had nursed his wrath, and was earnest in his belief that Noah ought to right the wrong the colonel had done him. Yet he had never had the courage to make this claim upon his brother, or even to mention to him the five thousand dollars which he insisted belonged to him. The law could do nothing for him, his own lawyer told him. Noah was his brother, now his only brother; and it was his duty, according to every principle of right and justice, to pay over to him half of the legacy of ten thousand dollars, and of the twenty-five thousand dollars which was a low valuation of the negro property.
The quantity of Kentucky whiskey which Titus consumed magnified his wrongs and made him more unreasonable than his natural discontent would have made him. When he learned from his younger son what his wife had told Mrs. Noah, he was more furious than he had ever been known to be before, and he descended to the brutality of striking her. He had taken more than his habitual potion of whiskey, and it made him ugly. His wife wept bitterly over the abuse she had been subjected to, both the words and the blow, and she had fled to her bedroom.
She was a high-spirited woman, and it seemed to her that the end of all things had come, at least so far as her domestic happiness was concerned. Her father was a well-to-do farmer; and neither he nor her brothers would permit her to be abused by any one, not even by her husband. A sudden and violent resolution came to her to return to her father's house. While she was thinking of this remedy and of the parting with her children, Titus rushed into the room. She must undo the mischief she had done, and he would drive her to Riverlawn for that purpose. He told her what to say, and she promised to say it; for she felt that she had been indiscreet in what she had said.
During the drive her husband had continued to abuse her with his unruly tongue, and she had wept all the way. They found Noah and Deck on the bridge, and Titus decided to pour out his grievances to his brother; for his drams had brought his courage up to the point where he felt like doing it. He was not intoxicated, but he had drunk enough to make him ugly. He descended from the vehicle, and Mrs. Titus drove over to the mansion.
Dexter was sent away as before related, and the father was somewhat moved by the rudeness with which the boy had been treated. He was a mild-spoken man; and though he was quiet in his manner, he had more real grit in his composition than Titus.
"You seem to be excited, Titus," said Noah, as he seated himself on the bench from which he had just risen.
"I have good reason to be excited," growled the angry man. "My wife has acted like a fool and a traitor to me!"
"I am sorry for that, Brother Titus; but I hope you don't hold me responsible for her conduct," said Noah in gentle and conciliatory tones.
"Not exactly; but you are responsible for enough without that, and I have made up my mind that it is time for you and me to have a reckoning, for you don't do by me as a brother should; and if father was living to-day he would be ashamed of you," returned the mason, with all the emphasis of a bad cause.
"I was not aware that I had been wanting in anything one brother ought to do for another. But we had better consider a subject of such importance when you are cooler than you seem to be just now, Titus. Your present complaint appears to be against Amelia, and not against me. What has she done? I have always looked upon her as a very good woman and good wife."
"You don't know her as well as I do. I don't know what bad advice Ruth has given her, or what influence she has over Meely, but she made her tell a ridiculous story about some arms and ammunition," said Titus in a milder manner; for he seemed to be intent upon counteracting the effect of her action. "I s'pose Ruth repeated to you the story Meely told."
"She said you had given five thousand dollars for the purchase of arms, ammunition, and uniforms for a company of Home Guards, of which you were to be the captain."
"I'll bet that wa'n't all she told you," added Titus.
"That was the substance of it."
"I suppose most folks in Barcreek know all that."
"I never knew it till to-day."
"You don't go about among folks in this county as I do."
"I don't associate much with Secessionists and Home Guards."
"I do! But that is my business, and I have a good right to give my money where it will do the most good; and I shall do so whether you like it or not," fumed Titus.
"I don't dispute your right; though I am surprised that a man brought up in the State of New Hampshire should become a Secessionist when more than half the people of Kentucky are in favor of the Union," added Noah.
"'Tain't so! I never was a Black Republican, as you were, and I don't begin on't now. If you want to steal the niggers, I don't help you do it! But Meely told your wife something more;" and Titus looked anxiously into the face of his brother, as if to read the extent of the mischief which had been done.
"I believe Ruth did tell me that the arms and munitions had already been purchased, and were hidden somewhere on the river," added Noah. "But I did not pay much attention to this part of the story. The material part of it was that you had given so much money to assist in making war in the State."
"I give the money to keep the war out of Kentucky, and maintain the neutrality of the State," argued Titus.
"We had better not talk politics, brother, and I will not give my views of neutrality."
"The story my wife told about the arms was all a lie!" exclaimed the visitor with an oath which shocked the owner of the plantation. "No arms are hid on the river, or anywhere else. Meely understood what I said with her elbows; and she has come down now to take it all back."
"Very well; I don't care anything about the arms, though I should be sorry to have them go into the hands of the Secessionists or the Home Guards, for they are all in the same boat."
At this moment Levi Bedford rode over the bridge on the colt, and Titus was silent.