roads of destiny-第7节

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　all　de　time！　I'm　gwine　to　stop　you　ef　I　can。　'Spec　you　shoot　Mr。　Nigger's　head　off　ef　he　fool　wid　you；　but　I'm　gwine　stop　you　ef　I　can。〃

Uncle　Bushrod；　aided　by　his　hickory　stick；　impeded　by　his　rheumatism；　hurried　down　the　street　toward　the　railroad　station；　where　the　two　lines　touching　Weymouthville　met。　As　he　had　expected　and　feared；　he　saw　there　Mr。　Robert；　standing　in　the　shadow　of　the　building；　waiting　for　the　train。　He　held　the　satchel　in　his　hand。

When　Uncle　Bushrod　came　within　twenty　yards　of　the　bank　president；　standing　like　a　huge；　gray　ghost　by　the　station　wall；　sudden　perturbation　seized　him。　The　rashness　and　audacity　of　the　thing　he　had　come　to　do　struck　him　fully。　He　would　have　been　happy　could　he　have　turned　and　fled　from　the　possibilities　of　the　famous　Weymouth　wrath。　But　again　he　saw；　in　his　fancy；　the　white　reproachful　face　of　Miss　Letty；　and　the　distressed　looks　of　Nan　and　Guy；　should　he　fail　in　his　duty　and　they　question　him　as　to　his　stewardship。

Braced　by　the　thought；　he　approached　in　a　straight　line；　clearing　his　throat　and　pounding　with　his　stick　so　that　he　might　be　early　recognized。　Thus　he　might　avoid　the　likely　danger　of　too　suddenly　surprising　the　sometimes　hasty　Mr。　Robert。

〃Is　that　you；　Bushrod？〃　called　the　clamant；　clear　voice　of　the　gray　ghost。

〃Yes；　suh；　Marse　Robert。〃

〃What　the　devil　are　you　doing　out　at　this　time　of　night？〃

For　the　first　time　in　his　life；　Uncle　Bushrod　told　Marse　Robert　a　falsehood。　He　could　not　repress　it。　He　would　have　to　circumlocute　a　little。　His　nerve　was　not　equal　to　a　direct　attack。

〃I　done　been　down；　suh；　to　see　ol'　Aunt　M'ria　Patterson。　She　taken　sick　in　de　night；　and　I　kyar'ed　her　a　bottle　of　M'lindy's　medercine。　Yes；　suh。〃

〃Humph！〃　said　Robert。　〃You　better　get　home　out　of　the　night　air。　It's　damp。　You'll　hardly　be　worth　killing　to…morrow　on　account　of　your　rheumatism。　Think　it'll　be　a　clear　day；　Bushrod？〃

〃I　'low　it　will；　suh。　De　sun　sot　red　las'　night。〃

Mr。　Robert　lit　a　cigar　in　the　shadow；　and　the　smoke　looked　like　his　gray　ghost　expanding　and　escaping　into　the　night　air。　Somehow；　Uncle　Bushrod　could　barely　force　his　reluctant　tongue　to　the　dreadful　subject。　He　stood；　awkward；　shambling；　with　his　feet　upon　the　gravel　and　fumbling　with　his　stick。　But　then；　afar　offthree　miles　away；　at　the　Jimtown　switchhe　heard　the　faint　whistle　of　the　coming　train；　the　one　that　was　to　transport　the　Weymouth　name　into　the　regions　of　dishonour　and　shame。　All　fear　left　him。　He　took　off　his　hat　and　faced　the　chief　of　the　clan　he　served；　the　great；　royal；　kind；　lofty；　terrible　Weymouthhe　bearded　him　there　at　the　brink　of　the　awful　thing　that　was　about　to　happen。

〃Marse　Robert；〃　he　began；　his　voice　quivering　a　little　with　the　stress　of　his　feelings；　〃you　'member　de　day　dey…all　rode　de　tunnament　at　Oak　Lawn？　De　day；　suh；　dat　you　win　in　de　ridin'；　and　you　crown　Miss　Lucy　de　queen？〃

〃Tournament？〃　said　Mr。　Robert；　taking　his　cigar　from　his　mouth。　〃Yes；　I　remember　very　well　thebut　what　the　deuce　are　you　talking　about　tournaments　here　at　midnight　for？　Go　'long　home；　Bushrod。　I　believe　you're　sleep…walking。〃

〃Miss　Lucy　tetch　you　on　de　shoulder；〃　continued　the　old　man；　never　heeding；　〃wid　a　s'ord；　and　say：　'I　mek　you　a　knight；　Suh　Robertrise　up；　pure　and　fearless　and　widout　reproach。'　Dat　what　Miss　Lucy　say。　Dat's　been　a　long　time　ago；　but　me　nor　you　ain't　forgot　it。　And　den　dar's　another　time　we　ain't　forgotde　time　when　Miss　Lucy　lay　on　her　las'　bed。　She　sent　for　Uncle　Bushrod；　and　she　say：　'Uncle　Bushrod；　when　I　die；　I　want　you　to　take　good　care　of　Mr。　Robert。　Seem　like'so　Miss　Lucy　say'he　listen　to　you　mo'　dan　to　anybody　else。　He　apt　to　be　mighty　fractious　sometimes；　and　maybe　he　cuss　you　when　you　try　to　'suade　him　but　he　need　somebody　what　understand　him　to　be　'round　wid　him。　He　am　like　a　little　child　sometimes'so　Miss　Lucy　say；　wid　her　eyes　shinin'　in　her　po'；　thin　face'but　he　always　been'dem　was　her　words'my　knight；　pure　and　fearless　and　widout　reproach。'〃

Mr。　Robert　began　to　mask；　as　was　his　habit；　a　tendency　to　soft…　heartedness　with　a　spurious　anger。

〃Youyou　old　windbag！〃　he　growled　through　a　cloud　of　swirling　cigar　smoke。　〃I　believe　you　are　crazy。　I　told　you　to　go　home；　Bushrod。　Miss　Lucy　said　that；　did　she？　Well；　we　haven't　kept　the　scutcheon　very　clear。　Two　years　ago　last　week；　wasn't　it；　Bushrod；　when　she　died？　Confound　it！　Are　you　going　to　stand　there　all　night　gabbing　like　a　coffee…coloured　gander？〃

The　train　whistled　again。　Now　it　was　at　the　water　tank；　a　mile　away。

〃Marse　Robert；〃　said　Uncle　Bushrod；　laying　his　hand　on　the　satchel　that　the　banker　held。　〃For　Gawd's　sake；　don'　take　dis　wid　you。　I　knows　what's　in　it。　I　knows　where　you　got　it　in　de　bank。　Don'　kyar'　it　wid　you。　Dey's　big　trouble　in　dat　valise　for　Miss　Lucy　and　Miss　Lucy's　child's　chillun。　Hit's　bound　to　destroy　de　name　of　Weymouth　and　bow　down　dem　dat　own　it　wid　shame　and　triberlation。　Marse　Robert；　you　can　kill　dis　ole　nigger　ef　you　will；　but　don't　take　away　dis　'er'　valise。　If　I　ever　crosses　over　de　Jordan；　what　I　gwine　to　say　to　Miss　Lucy　when　she　ax　me：　'Uncle　Bushrod；　wharfo'　didn'　you　take　good　care　of　Mr。　Robert？'〃

Mr。　Robert　Weymouth　threw　away　his　cigar　and　shook　free　one　arm　with　that　peculiar　gesture　that　always　preceded　his　outbursts　of　irascibility。　Uncle　Bushrod　bowed　his　head　to　the　expected　storm；　but　he　did　not　flinch。　If　the　house　of　Weymouth　was　to　fall；　he　would　fall　with　it。　The　banker　spoke；　and　Uncle　Bushrod　blinked　with　surprise。　The　storm　was　there；　but　it　was　suppressed　to　the　quietness　of　a　summer　breeze。

〃Bushrod；〃　said　Mr。　Robert；　in　a　lower　voice　than　he　usually　employed；　〃you　have　overstepped　all　bounds。　You　have　presumed　upon　the　leniency　with　which　you　have　been　treated　to　meddle　unpardonably。　So　you　know　what　is　in　this　satchel！　Your　long　and　faithful　service　is　some　excuse；　butgo　home；　Bushrodnot　another　word！〃

But　Bushrod　grasped　the　satchel　with　a　firmer　hand。　The　headlight　of　the　train　was　now　lightening　the　shadows　about　the　station。　The　roar　was　increasing；　and　folks　were　stirring　about　at　the　track　side。

〃Marse　Robert；　gimme　dis　'er'　valise。　I　got　a　right；　suh；　to　talk　to　you　dis　'er'　way。　I　slaved　for　you　and　'tended　to　you　from　a　child　up。　I　went　th'ough　de　war　as　yo'　body…servant　tell　we　whipped　de　Yankees　and　sent　'em　back　to　de　No'th。　I　was　at　yo'　weddin'；　and　I　was　n'　fur　away　when　yo'　Miss　Letty　was　bawn。　And　Miss　Letty's　chillun；　dey　watches　to…day　for　Uncle　Bushrod　when　he　come　home　ever'　evenin'。　I　been　a　Weymouth；　all　'cept　in　colour　and　entitlements。　Both　of　us　is　old；　Marse　Robert。　'Tain't　goin'　to　be　long　till　we　gwine　to　see　Miss　Lucy　and　has　to　give　an　account　of　our　doin's。　De　ole　nigger　man　won't　be　'spected　to　say　much　mo'　dan　he　done　all　he　could　by　de　fambly　dat　owned　him。　But　de　Weymouths；　dey　must　say　day　been　livin'　pure　and　fearless　and　widout　reproach。　Gimme　dis　valise；　Marse　RobertI'm　gwine　to　hab　it。　I'm　gwine　to　take　it　back　to　the　bank　and　lock　it　up　in　de　vault。　I'm　gwine　to　do　Miss　Lucy's　biddin'。　Turn　'er　loose；　Marse　Robert。〃

The　train　was　standing　at　the　station。　Some　men　were　pushing　trucks　along　the　side。　Two　or　three　sleepy　passengers　got　off　and　wandered　away　into　the　night。　The　conductor　stepped　to　the　gravel；　swung　his　lantern　and　called：　〃Hello；　Frank！〃　at　some　one　invisible。　The　bell　clanged；　the　brakes　hissed；　the　conductor　drawled：　〃All　aboard！〃

Mr。　Robert　released　his　hold　on　the　satchel。　Uncle　Bushrod　hugged　it　to　his　breast　with　both　arms；　as　a　lover　clasps　his　first　beloved。

〃Take　it　back　with　you；　Bushrod；〃　said　Mr。　Robert；　thrusting　his　hands　into　his　pockets。　〃And　let　the　subject　dropnow　mind！　You've　said　quite　enough。　I'm　going　to　take　the　train。　Tell　Mr。　William　I　will　be　back　on　Saturday。　Good　night。〃

The　banker　climbed　the　steps　of　the　moving　train　and　disappeared　in　a　coach。　Uncle　Bushrod　stood　motionless；　still　embracing　the　precious　satchel。　His　eyes　were　closed　and　his　lips　were　moving　in　thanks　to　the　Master　above　for　the　salvation　of　the　Weymouth　honour。　He　knew　Mr。　Robert　would　return　when　he　said　he　would。　The　Weymouths　never　lied。　Nor　now；　thank　the　Lord！　could　it　be　said　that　they　embezzled　the　money　in　banks。

Then　awake　to　the　necessity　for　further　guardianship　of　Weymouth　trust　funds；　the　old　man　started　for　the　bank　with　the　redeemed　satchel。

*　*　*　*　*

Three　hours　from　Weymouthville；　in　the　gray　dawn；　Mr。　Robert　alighted　from　the　train　at　a　lonely　flag…station。　Dimly　he　could　see　the　figure　of　a　man　waiting　on　the　platform；　and　the　shape　of　a　spring…waggon；　team　and　driver。　Half　a　dozen　lengthy　bamboo　fishing…poles　projected　from　the　waggon's　rear。

〃You're　here；　Bob；〃　said　Judge　Archinard；　Mr。　Robert's　old　friend　and　schoolmate。　〃It's　going　to　be　a　royal　day　for　fishing。　I　thought　you　saidwhy；　didn't　you　bring　along　the　stuff？〃

The　president　of　the　Weymouth　Bank　took　off　his　hat　and　rumpled　his　gray　locks。

〃Well；　Ben；　to　tell　you　the　truth；　there's　an　infernally　presumptuous　old　nigger　belonging　in　my　family　that　broke　up　the　arrangement。　He　came　down　to　the　depot　and　vetoed　the　whole　proceeding。　He　means　all　right；　andwell；　I　reckon　he　/is/　right。　Somehow；　he　had　found　out　what　I　had　alongthough　I　hid　it　in　the　bank　vault