Broken lives

Front matter

w!i lifw ; M 1 w i * !i

CHICAGO:

T. S. DENISON, Publisher, 163 Randolph Street.

Chapter I. Otto Castelar

Like all pioneer communities that in which Elsie and I were born, had its odd personages and mysterious families. It would have been a rare settlement in those days of the new West that had not these: Persons and families of unknown antecedents and the mystery about whose lives was impenetrable. Such people never appear to understand that it would be better to tell their neighbors the truth, however ugly, since it is usually not half so bad as those neighbors will surmise, if left to unaided conjecture.

It was a mysterious family that came into our settlement.

The husband and father was a man in ten thousand — a Scotchman of gigantic proportions, brawny and hairy as an animal, though his face was handsome and of noble aspect. His family comprised several children and a wee wife, as fragile as her lord was stalwart. She could not have weighed above ninety pounds, was fair of hair, had blue eyes, and skin like that of a month old infant. My mother always spoke of her as her '‘little pink neighbor.” The voice of this child-like creature was low and soft as the purr of a well-fed kitten. So my mother used to say, when about to visit her; “ I must go over and hear my little pink neighbor pur a bit; come along, Felix!”

The children of this uncommon pair were like neither — being like both.

BROKEN LIVES.

James McAlpin, for such was the name he bore while among us, moved into our neighborhood, it was said, shortly before my own advent. He sought out the most obscure and unlikely site in all the region about, where he erected a rougrh stone house and furnished it in a style to astonish his simple neighbors. The three or four rooms abounded in massive bedsteads ; great chairs, so heavy that the little pink wife could scarcely move them about ; and bureaus, large and costly enough to have served in those days a department at Washington. The doors of the dwelling were provided with enormous keys, bars and bolts, the only things of the kind for miles around ; for in those primitive days of simple honesty, little was there need for these. The wooden latch, with buckskin thong attached and hanging through an eyelet-like hole, on the outside, bidding the visitor welcome, sufficed for the other dwellings of the settlement.

Having provided this home for his family, Mr. Mc- Alpin, as I have heard said, disappeared, returning at intervals of sometimes months, and sometimes a year, for short visits to his family. During these absences the family was under the care of a man — William was the only name he bore — as mysterious as McAlpin himself.

Of course, this strange conduct of the Scotchman was a fruitful source of speculation and gossip. All sorts of mysterious and awful things were whispered of him.

But all this concerns us little, since this family is mentioned, only because through it was introduced into that humble neighborhood, one, a strange, far-fetched exotic, whom this history concerns ; and whose behavior changed the current of other lives, an account of which, more or less in detail, dependent on the strength a gracious Providence shall vouchsafe to me, I shall essay to record.

During one of the protracted absences of our neighbor, my father received a letter, bearing a foreign stamp and postmarked at a city with an unpronounceable name. A few hours after, the cover was on the farm wagon and my father had said :

BROKEN LIVES.

u Felix, get on your smartest clothes and be ready

to start within a half hour to F our county town,

some fifteen miles away.

The first railroad of the State was then in process of construction, but lacked some forty miles of having

reached F ; so it was reached then from the end of

the railroad as constructed, by stage.

When well on our way, my father said : “ Felix,

you can read writing, and I am proud of you that you can, seeing that there are few youngsters of twelve about here that can do as much. I am not just certain that I have the , right run of this letter I’ve received from some outlandish place, from our neighbor, Mr. McAlpin. Try if you can read it for your father.”

I took the missive eagerly. It was for most part written fairly well ; so that by a little study and by spelling the harder words, I was able to make it out. There was nothing in it to indicate where it had been written. It ran thus :

“My Dear Mr. Munro : — I have just learned that a friend of mine died lately, leaving a little son homeless and friendless. I have directed that

the child be sent to my home. It is to be carried to F and placed in

the care of the landlord of the ‘F House,’ until called for. Will you

meet it there, as I shall be unable to reach home in time, as it will arrive sometime between the first and fifth of May, and I can trust this matter to nobody but yourself. Be good enough to take your Felix along as company for the little fellow.

“ The child’s name is Otto Castelar. His parents were my dear friends, though I have never seen the unhappy little waif. I have written to my wife on the subject, and that you will bring the child to her.

“ Very truly your friend and neighbor,

“ James McAlpin.”

“ Ah, yesterday was the fifth !” exclaimed my father, as I ended. And so it was.

We reached F in the night, and put up at the

“ F House.” We learned that on that evening a

child had arrived, in charge of a woman, and was then in the house, though the woman had, after taking leave of it with many demonstrations of grief and affection, departed on the out-bound stage, within an hour after her arrival.

The next morning I was up betimes, anxious to see my future playfellow ; for while nothing had been said

BROKEN LIVES.

as to the child’s age, the fact that it was a boy, and that McAlpin had suggested that 1 should come along, had been enough to fill me with many pleasant expectations, and settle in my mind that the “ child ” was a lad like myself.

We were soon awaiting in the sitting room of the inn, the appearance of the little stranger, for the landlord had sent to bring him. Presently he walked in. My father was as imperturbable a man as one would see in a day’s journey, but this apparition so staggered him that he uttered an exclamation of surprise, before he could arrest it. Then he looked sharply at me. A glance sufficed. He saw that I had made the same discovery as himself.

The lad was at least a head taller than I ; as straight as an arrow, and dark as a Spaniard. His hair, as black as a raven’s wing, hung in waves and curls to his shoulders. But this aspect of the lad, though striking enough, did not cause the exclamation from my father. That was inspired by the fact, that in every feature and expression of his countenance, the boy was the perfect image of James McAlpin ! It mattered not that Mc- Alpin was the fairest of fair-skinned Scotsmen ; that his eyes were blue, while those of the boy were dark as night ; that his hair was light and straight, while that of the young stranger was raven and curly, and that his complexion was ruddy, while the boy’s was bloodless; there the lad stood, like an image in bronze of the stalwart Gael !

We took our breakfast and were presently on our way homeward. After the first greetings, the lad was persistently silent; but the traditional “dancing master” could not have managed his movements with more grace. Nor could a courtier have employed politer or apter phrase than that in which he saluted and thanked my father and myself. There was just a suspicion of a foreign accent in his speech.

To all my efforts to engage him in conversation, his responses were simple yeas and nays, but uttered with studied politeness, and with what 1 came to believe, an affected gentleness ; though I should not have been able to use so fit speech in giving my notion of it.

BROKEN LIVES.

Finding that he would not talk, I fell to studying furtively his appearance, endeavoring to time my observations so as not to appear rude. He, however, became aware of my scrutiny, and was scarcely able to disguise his annoyance. The more I observed his face, the more it impressed me. It was strangely strong for the face of a lad of his years, which might have been fourteen or more. He at length appeared to grow indifferent to my inspection of him, and sat gazing listlessly, with a far off look in his dark eyes, toward the distant hills. It may have been the working of my boyish imagination, always reckoned too active, but I fancied at times that I could see something like an expression of cruelty lurking about the corners of his mouth. And I am sure I made a discovery of what I have always regarded a phenomenon, in this strange lad’s eyes. If subsequent observations had not confirmed the impression then made, I should no doubt have referred that impression to fancy. But too well, alas, I know it was not fancy ! I discovered that he had what naturalists call in birds, “ nictitating membranes.” He appeared to be able at will, to draw this misty film over his eyes, as the goose and other fowls do, whereby he could effectually hide their expression. Afterward I often saw him, at such times as he desired to close himself against observers or to make an end of inquiry, play this trick.

If this species of eye were found in such numbers as to require or deserve classification, I should with my present learning be inclined to name it the “ Anserine Eye.” But as this, in my own experience, was an absolutely unique instance, I content myself with the fore going imperfect description.

At last, tiring of these observations of the stranger, I tried again to draw him into conversation. And in my sympathy for the lonely lad (for I had observed that several times he had sighed deeply, though very gently, and I fancied he was recalling the painful parting of yesterday) I thought to call him by his name, as a manner of address best calculated to penetrate his reserve. I said accordingly :

IO

BROKEN LIVES.

“ Well, Otto, what do you think of our hills and forests?” He turned his gaze upon me, drew the membranes over his eyes and answered as gently as his soon-to-be foster mother, Helen McAlpin herself might: “ I am used to being called Master Otto, if you please.”

Determined not to be put out so, I said :

“Then, Master Otto, what think you of our hills and woods ?”

Again he turned his eyes upon me, and from behind their masque looked to see if I was accepting his suggestion in good faith, and being satisfied, answered :

“ They are quite interesting, but do not compare with the scenery along the Hudson, nor that along the rivers of — ”

But he did not say what country or place.

This ended all effort to draw him out. Nor was there further discourse, until when within a few miles of home, my father explained to him how Mr. McAlpin, who had been the friend of his parents, had requested

us to meet him at F , and carry him to his, Mc-

Alpin’s home, which my father assured the lad would be, he had no doubt, a pleasant home for him. As my father said this, the lad gazed at him from behind his masque, and I fancied I saw a look of mingled incredulity and scorn run up from the corners of his mouth and take shelter in his eyes behind that membranous barricade.

For some reason my father did not wish to, himself, deliver the boy to the McAlpin household. He, therefore, when we arrived home, placed him in the care of my elder brother and myself, to be carried on to his destination.

When, as master of ceremonies, I presented him to the good little Mrs. McAlpin, the poor woman staggered backward, while her face grew first white, then scarlet, and her lips jerked and quivered as if she would break into tears. After saluting her in his courtly manner, the lad stepped back and deliberately gazed at her from behind the curtains which he had again drawn over his eyes.

A few weeks after, when McAlpin had returned and

BROKEN LIVES.

1 1

had called to see my father, I heard him, salutations ended, say :

“ YVell, neighbor Munro, had I ever seen the lad, I should have been saved the telling you that blundering falsehood. The child is my son! Nature has been more generous and faithful to the little fellow than I meant to be ; she declines to keep my secret/’ And his voice was a little husky.

Beyond this simple, frank confession, nothing I think was ever said on the subject.

Chapter II. Elsie

When autumn came and the brief term of school opened, Otto, the stranger lad, accompanied his foster brother, Bruce McAlpin, thither. But it was directly manifest that the wrinkled old teacher could teach him nothing ; the lad was already a far better scholar than the master. Indeed, it was soon apparent that that doughty old tyrant, so ready with his beech where the rest of us were concerned, stood in awe of this swarthy, youth, with eyes of night and raven hair. But it ought in justice be said, that the lad used his power with finesse , and so subjected the master to as little chagrin as possible, and yet have his own way.

He and I gradually grew better acquainted, and there came to be at length a sort of armed friendship between us, that no doubt would in time have grown cordial enough, but for what befell.

Elsie’s father was the chief person of the young settlement — its spiritual guide as well as arbiter of all those disputes that must needs arise in every community, in respect of material things. Though himself a scholar of excellent attainments, having been regularly educated for his vocation, Mr. Cradock sent his children to the great log schoolhouse, surrounded by

BROKEN LIVES.

forests, to share with his neighbors’ children such knowledge as the poorly equipped old master dispensed at the reasonable stipend of ten dollars per month.

It was on the Monday morning of the third week, as I yet remember, that Elsie came with her older sisters. To me, her advent was as the visit of an angel. She was but a few months my junior in age. Our parents had all our lives been nearest neighbors and closest friends, and neither of us had known any playmate than the other, until old enough to go to school. We could not remember when the older children of the neighborhood began to tease us about each other; while in my father’s household Elsie was known by no other name than “ Felix’s sweetheart;’’ a fact of which I was vain enough — as what lad of sensibilities and taste would not have been, indeed? For a no more lovable creature than Elsie can be imagined. Rather tall of her age, lithe and supple, with a face fairly beaming with intelligence ; dark blue eyes, bubbling full of mirth and fine spirits, happy as a bird and looking as ready to fly. And withal, such a “ glory ” of golden brown hair as kept you wondering how it could by any means be tucked away in the quaint, old-fashioned, speckled sunbonnet, in whose depths, if you looked long enough, you would see all I have described, besides two rows of pearls between rubies — that were just her teeth and lips.

“ Books” had already been called, and I was sitting on one of the high, but narrow, rail-like, backless benches, by the side of Master Otto, who, if he did not like me, cared for no one else. Elsie, going to the corner set apart for the wraps of the girls, had deposited her speckled sunbonnet, and with a toss of the head that settled her golden sea of hair about her shoulders, moved with noiseless grace and unshod feet, wet with the morning dews, to a seat on the “ girls’ side,’’ and near the corner of the room. Then beginning at the end next the door on the “ boys’ side,” she glanced modestly and swiftly down the long row until our eyes met ; a nod of recognition, a smile accompanied by a conscious little blush, and she settles down and looks

BROKEN LIVES.

demurely at the McGuffey Reader before her, while I nod, smile and blush in turn, and then sit swinging my feet faster than ever to keep time with the accelerated movements of my foolish heart.

But I am aroused from my blissful dream, by the nervous, impatient movements of Otto, whose very existence I had for the moment forgotten. I look up into his face; its aspect is startling! He is looking down upon me, with eyes full of an expression of — what? I could not name it then, and since later on the reader will know as well as I, I shall not name it now. But as I looked full of surprise into his eyes, he seemed to remember himself ; he slowly inclosed the baleful light with the strange membrane, already mentioned. Then, affecting an indifference, and smiling as if to say, “Aha! I have detected your secret !” he asked, but his voice was perturbed, despite his effort :

“ Who is she ?”

I was unsuspecting, as an honest lad ought to be, and so answered simply enough :

“It’s Elsie Cradock.”

“Your sweetheart,” he added, with an involuntary sneer.

“ That’s what they call her, but we’re just good friends, that’s all,’’ I answered, with an embarrassed blush.

“Yes; no doubt!” he replied, still with that spiteful sneer.

No more was said, but more than once I detected Master Otto gazing at Elsie with an expression of eyes that made my blood leap and set my face a burning. And then I would chide myself for begrudging the poor stranger lad a look even, at the sweet face. But when I would recall the strange light in his eyes, it distressed me ; though in my simplicity, I did not understand its meaning.

At noon recess 1 saw that Otto kept pretty closely about where I was; a thing unusual. Before this, if either sought the other, it was 1 who sought him. But I understood, he suspected that I would seek occasion to speak with Elsie, and he wished to meet her. The

BROKEN LIVES.

* rules forbidding the commingling of the boys with the girls were rigid, and their infraction punished by the lash. That is to say, the master would “ beech ” the lads. “ For of course,” he would argue, “ the girls are not to blame. They’ll stay to themselves, if you’ll let ’em. And it’s my business to see that you let ’em,” he would add, as he laid about him with his gad. But even this rigor was not sufficient barrier, where both sides contrived to surmount it. And since Elsie and I had been used to playing together from our earliest recollection, we could not quite understand the wrong of it. The recess was not half gone till we found ourselves strolling along the bank of the creek that ran through the valley below the schoolhouse.

“ Who is that black boy that sits beside you, Felix?” Elsie, our greeting ended, asked, with a look of repugnance on her face.

When I had answered, “ I don’t like him !” she said.

“ Why don’t you like him?” I asked, interestedly.

“ I don’t like — it’s his eyes, 1 think; I don’t like his eyes. They look wicked — like a snake’s. Ugh!” and she affected a shudder.

“ Well, don’t talk about him!” I said, impatiently. “Here, we’ve not seen each other for a whole age, two weeks at least, and are breaking the rules, too, and talking about nothing but this stranger.”

As I spoke, Otto came from we knew not where, into our path, meeting us. In another moment he was lifting his hat in salutation. His sudden appearance, and the suspicion that he had heard every word we had said, so embarrassed me — for the fellow had a strange, half mastery over me — that I did not know what I was about. But he brought me to, with a look, as if he would say: “Why don’t you introduce me?” I stammered, “ Elsie, this is my friend, Master Otto Castelar.” I had never failed since that first acquaintance to call him “ Master Otto.” I did not dream then that it was a concession to his assumption of superiority ; though I think that Elsie with her keener insight suspected this and declined, both then and after, to bestow the deferential title. She greeted him, now by a slight but charmingly simple curtsey.

BROKEN LIVES.

“ Miss Elsie,” he began, drawing near and lifting a handkerchief containing paw-paws and a handful of hackberries, “ I have been foraging,” — a new word to us — “ in the forest, and shall be delighted to share my spoil with you and Felix.” And he selected the ripest and most enticing of the paw-paws and offered it to Elsie, who shrank back, crying:

“ Excuse me, please ! I detest paw-paws, of all things. Ugh ! Why, a hog won’t eat one ; will it, Felix !”

“ So much the more reason why a nice little lady like yourself, should ! There are few things that nice little girls and swine eat, in common,” he retorted gaily, laughing a strange, low, soft laugh, while Elsie blushed scarlet. Then he took a handful of the berries, and tendered them. Elsie accepted these and affected to be pleased with them. And we turned and walked toward the playgrounds. As we drew near, talking by starts and pauses, I suggested that we had better quit Elsie’s company, lest we should get ourselves “ beeched.”

“/shall do nothing of the kind!” said Master Otto. “ I dare old Wrinkles to chastise me!”

This, though said in the softest of accents, had the effect to shock both Elsie and myself. To hear the dear old teacher, whom everybody spoke of reverently as “the Master,” called “ old Wrinkles,” though his face was crossed and criss-crossed with seams, sounded like sacrilege ; though we should not, to be sure, have known the offence by such name, then.

Elsie looked quickly at me, while a little, half angry, half frightened frown knitted her pretty brows. Seeing the effect of his speech, Master Otto laughed the same soft, gurgling laugh as he went on, “ Why, you children reverence this ignorant old fellow as if he were a sage. He’s an old fool, I say ! He teach anybody ! Bah !”

The lad was more than half right. But it sounded awful to us, to whom the old man was just “ the Master,” and so we were glad enough to part company with the blasphemer, which we did at the playground; for I

1 6

BROKEN LIVES.

would not quit Elsie’s side till Otto had, beeching or no beeching.

As we walked homeward this evening, Elsie said while speaking of Otto : “ O, Felix, isn’t he awfully

handsome?”

“What do you mean, Elsie?” I cried. “ What do you mean by using such words ? — awfully handsome! Who ever heard the like ?”

She looked up at me with wide open, astonished eyes, and her face full of innocence, saying, “ Why, Felix — why — don’t you think him handsome?”

“O, yes, to be sure; aw — fully handsome!” I answered, making eyes. But the next moment I was sorry, for Elsie’s chin quivered as if she were about to cry.

I had not wisdom to understand that the dear child had spoken of the youth precisely as she might of her father’s fine horse, or other well-favored animal.

There stood on the bank of the creek, near the schoolhouse, a great beeclj tree, with wide-spreading and far-reaching branches extending sheer across the stream, which at that point was narrow, but carrying between its high and steep banks water some feet in depth. These limbs, by the aid of some of the larger boys, had been drawn down to be used by the girls as swings, and by means of which they could swing from bank to bank, across the stream ; a charming, if hazardous sport.

A few days after her first meeting with the stranger, it chanced that Elsie, while swinging had, by a false start, fallen short of the thither bank, alighting in midstream. With other lads I was playing ball a hundred yards away. Having observed the venturesome nature of the sport, and knowing that Elsie was engaged in it, and as daring as the next one, I had felt no little uneasiness. Thus it came to pass that when the accident befell, and the cries of Elsie’s companions arose, I fairly flew to the scene, preceding the foremost of my companions by some moments.

Elsie was clinging to the limb, her white face alone visible above the water, her lips tightly compressed,

BROKEN LIVES.

and her eyes shining like two small stars. T was an excellent swimmer and encumbered by nothing but my shirt and trousers. Pausing only long enough to direct one of the larger girls, who appeared not to have entirely lost her head, how to aid me, I plunged into the stream. I seized the limb above where Elsie held it, and speaking a word of encouragement which she answered with a brave look, that I can plainly recall at this moment, I began to struggle toward the shore. While the current, though luckily by no means swift, made the task a difficult one, still I gained at each struggle and was soon in reach of aid from the bank, and the young lady already mentioned, was preparing to render it, when suddenly, as if he had fallen from the tree above us, appeared the dark form of Otto, stripped to shirt and trousers, and about to leap into the stream. I cried to him to take hold of the limb. He paid no heed, but dropped straight as a plummet, feet foremost into the edge of the stream, when stooping, he seized Elsie and lifted her onto the bank, as if instead of a wellgrown girl of twelve or more, she had been an infant in arms. And as he did so he gave me such a look of triumph, mingled with hate and contempt, as I had never seen in human face before, and as I confess, frightened me.

Elsie’s bonnet had been lost and was being slowly borne away, discovering which, and just as I had reached the shore, Otto darted quickly past me, plunged into the stream, rescued and brought it, and, bowing with the air and grace of a cavalier, handed it to its bedrabbled and shivering owner; then taking her arm, saying that she must go to the schoolhouse and dry her clothing, he led her in triumph, away.

I followed, a little crestfallen but in no wise blaming Elsie ; for 1 was sure that she would greatly prefer my company.

But what presently happened put me more than even with his officious cavaliership. For when Elsie standing by the fire saw me come in, completely soaked, the water yet dripping from my clothing, she gave me such a look of tender sympathy, and said : “ O, Felix, i8

BROKEN LIVES.

I am so sorry ! Are you cold ?” at the same time making room by her side for me, in such a way, as filled my heart as full of delight as it did Master Otto’s of envy. His face grew darker and his eyes were full of a strange light which he presently shut in behind that sinister membrane. But the next day he was so cordial and polite toward me, and frank and open in his treatment of Elsie, evincing toward both such simple, good fellowship only, that I forgot the disagreeable sensations his behavior of yesterday had inspired, and was ready to be on the most iriendly footing ; (or there was much about him when in this amiable mood, to admire. Besides, he was far above the dead level of the other lads of the neighborhood, and — well, perhaps I was too ; and so bating our rivalry for favor in Elsie’s eyes, we ought reasonably, to have been cronies.

One other episode ot our school days together, will serve to exhibit the characters of the three children, whose dramatic, nay, tragic histories in after years, it is my purpose to set forth in these memoirs.