the house behind the cedars(雪松后的房子)-第35部分
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required an answer； which might have been made in writing within the
compass of ten lines。 No sooner； however； had Tryon read the letter than
he began to perceive reasons why it should be answered in person。 He
had left Patesville under extremely painful circumstances； vowing that he
would never return； and yet now the barest pretext； by which no one could
have been deceived except willingly； was sufficient to turn his footsteps
thither again。 He explained to his motherwith a vagueness which she
found somewhat puzzling； but ascribed to her own feminine obtuseness in
matters of businessthe reasons that imperatively demanded his presence
in Patesville。 With an early start he could drive there in one day；he had
an excellent roadster； a light buggy； and a recent rain had left the road in
good condition；a day would suffice for the transaction of his business；
and the third day would bring him home again。 He set out on his journey
on Thursday morning； with this programme very clearly outlined。
Tryon would not at first have admitted even to himself that Rena's
presence in Patesville had any bearing whatever upon his projected visit。
The matter about which Judge Straight had written might； it was clear； be
viewed in several aspects。 The judge had written him concerning the one
of immediate importance。 It would be much easier to discuss the subject
in all its bearings； and clean up the whole matter； in one comprehensive
personal interview。
The importance of this business； then； seemed very urgent for the first
few hours of Tryon's journey。 Ordinarily a careful driver and merciful to
his beast； his eagerness to reach Patesville increased gradually until it
became necessary to exercise some self…restraint in order not to urge his
faithful mare beyond her powers； and soon he could no longer pretend
obliviousness of the fact that some attraction stronger than the whole
amount of Duncan McSwayne's note was urging him irresistibly toward
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his destination。 The old town beyond the distant river； his heart told him
clamorously； held the object in all the world to him most dear。 Memory
brought up in vivid detail every moment of his brief and joyous courtship；
each tender word； each enchanting smile； every fond caress。 He lived his
past happiness over again down to the moment of that fatal discovery。
What horrible fate was it that had involved himnay； that had caught this
sweet delicate girl in such a blind alley？ A wild hope flashed across his
mind： perhaps the ghastly story might not be true； perhaps； after all； the
girl was no more a negro than she seemed。 He had heard sad stories of
white children； born out of wedlock； abandoned by sinful parents to the
care or adoption of colored women； who had reared them as their own； the
children's future basely sacrificed to hide the parents' shame。 He would
confront this reputed mother of his darling and wring the truth from her。
He was in a state of mind where any sort of a fairy tale would have
seemed reasonable。 He would almost have bribed some one to tell him
that the woman he had loved； the woman he still loved （he felt a thrill of
lawless pleasure in the confession）； was not the descendant of slaves；
that he might marry her； and not have before his eyes the gruesome fear
that some one of their children might show even the faintest mark of the
despised race。
At noon he halted at a convenient hamlet； fed and watered his mare；
and resumed his journey after an hour's rest。 By this time he had well…
nigh forgotten about the legal business that formed the ostensible occasion
for his journey； and was conscious only of a wild desire to see the woman
whose image was beckoning him on to Patesville as fast as his horse could
take him。
At sundown he stopped again； about ten miles from the town； and
cared for his now tired beast。 He knew her capacity； however； and
calculated that she could stand the additional ten miles without injury。
The mare set out with reluctance； but soon settled resignedly down into a
steady jog。
Memory had hitherto assailed Tryon with the vision of past joys。 As
he neared the town； imagination attacked him with still more moving
images。 He had left her； this sweet flower of womankindwhite or not；
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God had never made a fairer！he had seen her fall to the hard pavement；
with he knew not what resulting injury。 He had left her tender framethe
touch of her finger…tips had made him thrill with happiness to be lifted
by strange hands； while he with heartless pride had driven deliberately
away； without a word of sorrow or regret。 He had ignored her as
completely as though she had never existed。 That he had been deceived
was true。 But had he not aided in his own deception？ Had not Warwick
told him distinctly that they were of no family； and was it not his own fault
that he had not followed up the clue thus given him？ Had not Rena
compared herself to the child's nurse； and had he not assured her that if she
were the nurse； he would marry her next day？ The deception had been
due more to his own blindness than to any lack of honesty on the part of
Rena and her brother。 In the light of his present feelings they seemed to
have been absurdly outspoken。 He was glad that he had kept his
discovery to himself。 He had considered himself very magnanimous not
to have exposed the fraud that was being perpetrated upon society： it was
with a very comfortable feeling that he now realized that the matter was as
profound a secret as before。
〃She ought to have been born white；〃 he muttered； adding weakly； 〃I
would to God that I had never found her out！〃
Drawing near the bridge that crossed the river to the town； he pictured
to himself a pale girl； with sorrowful； tear…stained eyes； pining away in the
old gray house behind the cedars for love of him； dying； perhaps； of a
broken heart。 He would hasten to her； he would dry her tears with kisses；
he would express sorrow for his cruelty。
The tired mare had crossed the bridge and was slowly toiling up Front
Street； she was near the limit of her endurance； and Tryon did not urge her。
They might talk the matter over； and if they must part； part at least
they would in peace and friendship。 If he could not marry her； he would
never marry any one else； it would be cruel for him to seek happiness
while she was denied it； for； having once given her heart to him； she could
never； he was sure；so instinctively fine was her nature；she could never
love any one less worthy than himself； and would therefore probably never
marry。 He knew from a Clarence acquaintance； who had written him a
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letter； that Rena had not reappeared in that town。
If he should discoverthe chance was one in a thousandthat she was
white； or if he should find it too hard to leave herah； well！ he was a
white man； one of a race born to command。 He would make her white；
no one beyond the old town would ever know the difference。 If；
perchance； their secret should be disclosed； the world was wide； a man of
courage and ambition； inspired by love； might make a career anywhere。
Circumstances made weak men； strong men mould circumstances to do
their bidding。 He would not let his darling die of grief； whatever the
price must be paid for her salvation。 She was only a few rods away from
him now。 In a moment he would see her； he would take her tenderly in
his arms； and heart to heart they would mutually forgive and forget； and；
strengthened by their love； would face the future boldly and bid the world
do its worst。
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XXIII
THE GUEST OF HONOR
The evening of the party arrived。 The house had been thoroughly
cleaned in preparation for the event； and decorated with the choicest
treasures of the garden。 By eight o'clock the guests had gathered。 They
were all mulattoes；all people of mixed blood were called 〃mulattoes〃 in
North Carolina。 There were dark mulattoes and bright mulattoes。 Mis'
Molly's guests were mostly of the bright class； most of them more than
half white； and few of them less。 In Mis' Molly's small circle； straight
hair was the only palliative of a dark complexion。 Many of the guests
would not have been casuall
