Wyeth listened kindly, patiently. The other appeared sad and reminiscent.
"No, I shall never seem to get over it, either. I am the last of a family that came here from France, many, many years ago—two hundred, to be exact. For many years, we were the richest family in Bienville Parish, and perhaps almost as rich as any other in the state. We owned land, and slaves, until we could hardly count them. Of course, the war meant—you can understand what we lost with the freedom of the blacks. But after that, we were still immensely rich. But, somehow, a curse seemed to come over the family. No boy babies were born to any. The girls became subject to consumption, until all had died but myself. Then I married. My husband was Spanish and French, very affectionate, and was good to me, and we were hopeful and happy—until I bore him no offspring. He grew crabbed, nervous and impatient.
"Before long, I came to see that he was intimate elsewhere. He began to drink, to gamble, and to carouse. He stayed out until all hours of the night, and then he got so he would not come home at all. For days I would not see him, and then for weeks." She paused long enough now to wipe a tear. "I began to fear for him, for, I recalled that his ancestors had come to abrupt ends, and I worried. Because I could bear him no children, I gave him freely of the fortune that was left to me. He ran through with his, and then with mine." She was weeping quietly now, and he felt inclined to comfort her, but did not know how.
After a time she was calm again. She took a seat by the window, and gazed with a tired expression out into the street, while he waited. "Well," she resumed, "they brought him home one day, dead, and I have been alone since."
"Too bad," said Wyeth, and shifted about, listening for more, for, carefully observant, he saw that she was not through.
"One day, there came a woman, an attractive colored woman, with large eyes and the most beautiful hair and skin and form I had ever, I think, seen. She led a little boy by the hand, and when he looked up at me, I screamed. I knew then, and didn't have to be told, that he was my husband's son.
"Strangely, I was happy. To know that my good husband—for he had been good in the beginning—had left his name, somewhat cheered me, and we agreed to educate and give him a chance.
"We placed him later, at my expense, in a good school, and he grew to be a handsome, bright-eyed young man. I watched him, however, with a slight fear—for I remembered. But he made a man of himself, a successful man, and with the last few thousands I could gather, I helped to start him in business, and in due time he had made a name that was an envy. He became the owner of much of the best property in the city, land in the northern part of the state, and, in the end, married one of the wealthiest and most attractive girls in the town." She paused again, and Wyeth listened without a word. Something remained yet to be told....
The woman was speaking again.
"Yes, he grew to success and happiness—and then, well, something happened."