By Sanction of Law

Front matter

By Sanction of Law

Joshua Henry Jones, Jr.

By Sanction of Law By Joshua Henry Jones, Jr.

Preface

To the reading public:

I have not undertaken to present between these covers something that will cause the venom of prejudice to grow more poisonous; to arouse greater antagonisms; but to lay before a fair-minded, love-governed world the only real solution of any problem of the many mankind face. Having lived and battled in a world of prejudice, knowing that under the skin I was and am no whit different than any other human being, and knowing the fallacy of race prejudice, also the swiftness with which race prejudice vanishes when we know one another, I have tried to show how all can dwell side by side, good patriotic American citizens, living and allowing to live.

I have reserved to myself the right of every story teller, viz.—to name outright some places to which the story reaches and to merely describe others. Not all the events described have occurred in the places where they have been placed in the story but they are based on actual happenings nevertheless. The thread of my story is human; as human as life itself, just as Romeo and Juliet, Othello and Desdemona, Ruth and Boaz and Jacob and Rachael are human.

The Author

Chapter 1

Colonel Park Lauriston sat in the shadiest corner of the wide veranda ornamenting two sides of the magnificently roomy, many-gabled, "Big House" as it was still known by all the pensioners of this South Carolina plantation, from the Negro field hands to the tenantry and overseers. As he sat, sheltered beneath an enormous spread of white oak branches a soft near-spent gulf breeze bore up to the nostrils of this typically aristocratic Southerner the deliciously combined odors of flowering jasmine, green bay and honeysuckle though it was almost the fag end of the summer season. It was to him like a breath from an oasis in the midst of a hot, sandy desert.

The house stood at the rear of one of those old-fashioned gardens in which grew well-trimmed, dwarf cypress and juniper trees as well as many other specimens of shrubbery and trailing vines; planted and grown in artistic relation to their general appearance, and calculated to satisfy the eye for beauty whether it saw them from the big white sandy road on which it faced, or from the veranda from which Colonel Lauriston now gazed and meditated. Over all this the very house itself towered with a dignified aloofness as if to defy neighborliness with the traffic that passed its distant front gate.

The day was one of those hot sultry mid-August times when Nature seems parched and gasping. Before Colonel Lauriston, on a tete-a-tete table, stood a glass of refreshing julep from which he sipped luxuriously languid swal- lows at the same time slowly fanning himself with a wide palmetto leaf.

The attitude, the slow, leisurely deliberate movements and the calm expression about the glinting yet kindly eyes of grey indicated that he was in a happy, complacent state of mind as if conscious of a duty done. And he was satisfied in spirit for he had just ridden in after a trip over the wide fields of his estate where blossoming cotton rows drooped and a veritable sea of silking corn swayed with languorous precision that almost caused one to drowse and dream hypnotically. This ride had been torrid beneath a still more torrid southern sun and Colonel Lauriston was now resting, glad to be beneath the shade and protected from the stifling heat that simmered up from a parching earth.

The sun was not more than three hours from setting now and Colonel Lauriston studied the shadows, extending from trees and shrubbery over the plush-soft lawn divided in weird twistings by a white gravel walk and driveway. From this contemplation his eyes roved to the little particles of light that filtered through the leaves of the great over-reaching oak.

"Drat it all," he mused, "This heat is hellish. Here it is, 'lay-by' time and not a cooling breath stirring. Wish 'twas time to go North with Lyda—"

Before he could say more a delightfully musical voice called from within the house:

"Daddy, did you call?"

Colonel Lauriston lifted his head deliberately to speak, changed his mind which refused to be distracted from its reveries, then sipped from his glass at the same time setting his fan in renewed motion. His meditative mood gripped him again.

While busy with his thoughts his eyes lifted and his vision fixed itself on the distance across the field and along the ribbony road on which a vehicle of some sort could be seen approaching. The Colonel's eyes narrowed in effort to more clearly discern the object approaching. The pupils of his eyes also contracted, behind the lids, to beads of steel as the vehicle raised its trail of hot parched dust then he turned again to his fan and julep with:

"Old John can't hide himself even in his dust."

The thought caused the Colonel to chuckle with mirth at his joke till his spare frame shook him almost into an outburst of laughter.

"In a devil of a hurry, too, for this time of day," he added as an after comment, still intent on the approaching dust cloud. He turned for a moment to his refreshment and when his eyes next took in the figure, man and vehicle were turning into the open gateway at the front of the lawn a quarter of a mile away and wheeling briskly up toward the veranda. The team showed no slackening of pace till buggy and passenger had rounded the curving approach and swung up to the hitching post under the tree whose patriarchal fifty-foot branches spread themselves about the front of the house and its veranda as if to guard and protect it from all the vicissitudes of weather whether winter storms or summer suns.

This giant white oak was indeed a patriarch of the plantation. It was planted in Colonial days by the founder of the house of Lauriston and encouraged to grow through succeeding generations till now it had become the most venerable and venerated bit of the estate except possibly the dining room plate and furnishings. These also had been kept intact and handed down from head to head of each succeeding generation of Lauristons.

Colonel Lauriston was himself now almost as much a patriarch as was this oak and the "Big House" itself. A tall, Indian-straight, spare-limbed man beyond middle age, with aquiline features and the grace of kings in his every motion, thoughtful eyes and high well-formed forehead set off by grey mustache and thinning hair.

As the buggy, horse and man stopped, creaking, panting and puffing at the post:

"Hello, John," was the Colonel's greeting.

"Fu-fu-fu-fu-tuh, Hello Park," stammered the visitor. The two men had been neighbors and cronies since boyhood with that comradeship that grows between friends of long standing.

"Aren't you 'fraid you'll leave some grease on the road traipsin' 'long at this rate, John? It's no time for fat men like you to be fussing 'round country roads." The Colonel smiled broadly as he spoke.

"Fu-fu-fu-fu-tuh grease your grandad. Ef youall fu-fu-fu-tuh had s-s-s-some o' my grease you'd fu-fu-fu-tuh have asthma," retorted the visitor.

"They'll sure have to provide a new spring board in Hades when you jump off, John. Your three hundred pounds'll sure break the one they're usin' now," twitted Colonel Lauriston.

Having no ready reply to that sally, Old John Marley good-naturedly joined in the laughter into which the Colonel burst as he scored on the peculiarity of his boyhood chum and visitor. Old John's Falstavian sides heaved like billows with each chuckle. The heft of John Marley had been the source of joking between the two men for years, though good-naturedly. Old John took both his bulk and the twitting of his friend philosophically.

Light, John 'n come up," offered the Colonel hospitably, when the joking ended.

Old John started to ease his proportions which had seemed to spread themselves out over all the seat of the buggy, tilting the body on its springs in such a degree as to threaten overturning the vehicle.

"Look out! Look out!" shouted Colonel Lauriston, "It'll tilt over 'tother way on the flyback, if you don't look out."

The prediction was false, however, for climbing out of this buggy was no new experience to Old John. He finally accomplished the process, dragged his flacidity up the steps to the high veranda and swung over to the corner in which the Colonel had been sitting, seated himself in a handy stout rustic oak rocker of home-made design, built for support rather than ornament and began fanning and puffing. Colonel Lauriston seated himself again before his drink and called:

"Lida! Lida!"

The voice that had called to him when he first began to rest again echoed from within some recess of the house.

"Yes, Daddy," she responded.

"Bring another glass of mint, Girl. Company's come," Colonel Lauriston requested.

The two men sat in silence for a few moments, Old John Marley puffing as he rocked back and forth and fanned to cool himself, Colonel Lauriston toying with his glass. As they waited the screened door was pushed quietly open and a tall girl, not yet fully entered into the first flush of womanhood, lithe and full of vibrant vitality appeared carrying a tray on which were two glasses of cool, tantalizingly refreshing julep.

She seemed a silver blond-haired goddess as she stepped across the threshold onto the veranda with a free swing indicative that she had not yet been spoiled by any affectations or vanities. She bore the tray like a Hebe, her summer frock, neither tight fitting nor loose, clung to her form just enough to give emphasis to graceful proportions. The eyes of both men followed her fondly as she approached and placed their glasses, removing that from which her father had been sipping.

Old John noted every motion with approving eyes, inwardly commenting on the fact that she possessed her father's eyes except that they were larger and more of the dreamy kind, with long lashes to match her hair. Her hair hung down her back in one long full heavy braid as is the style of simple, unaffected girls brought up in an at- mosphere of simplicity. Her face had the general contour of a Greek statue and conscious of the fact that the elder man was studying her, her cheeks flushed to the delicate pink of a shell from the sea, from her forehead along her aquilinely aristocratic, sensitive nose to her well chiseled chin.

Old John noted the coloring and added to her confusion by remarking:

"D-d-d-don't you fu-fu-fu-tuh mind me, Lida. You're a right pert girl and your daddy's pride. I fu-fu-fu-tuh hope you'll be mine too, in a way, some day."

She could stand no more but hurried confusedly into the house where her blushing might not be seen. The two men watched the figure of the retreating girl in fond silence seemingly having forgotten their refreshments. Old John was the first to speak. He slowly turned his head from the door through which the girl had vanished as if loath to lose the vision and half expecting that she would return, sipped then drank heartily. Placing the half emptied glass on the table he turned to Colonel Lauriston.

"Fu-fu-fu-tuh I was fu-fu-fu-tuh thinking, Park, that your girl would make a good match for my John. Fu-fu-fu-tuh seeing's we've been fu-fu-fu-tuh friends and neighbors fu-fu-fu-tuh so long and our fu-fu-fu-tuh families been neighbors before us. It would fu-fu-fu-tuh be nice to have our fu-fu-fu-tuh acres joined that way. We'd fu-fu-tuh leave the pair mighty nigh, fu-fu-fu-tuh the whole of Hebron County between us when we go. And it would fu-fu-fu-tuh sort o' ease my way over the fu-fu-fu-tuh line if I knew John had a wife like Lida fu-fu-fu-tuh to watch out for him and raise his family.

Colonel Lauriston remained silent several moments then asked:

"How's John feel about it?—You know Lida's my only girl and I won't force her to anything. Her ma's not here to look after her and I've got to. I believe in letting her choose for herself when the time comes but I'm not any too durned anxious to see her go from me even to your son John. Besides, it's no use doing her courting for her; and I don't believe John'll take well to us old codgers meddlin' either. We're a pair of old doddering fools to think of it. You know colts have got to have their heads a little or they don't break well to harness."

"I fu-fu-fu-tuh, I've fu-fu-tuh talked with John and got his slant. He likes the girl purty well. Fu-fu-tuh give them a chance to fu-fu-fu-tuh be fu-fu-fu-tuh together some and you'll fu-fu-fu-tuh have another son and I'll fu-fu-fu-tuh have a daughter. It won't fu-fu-fu-tuh take two healthy young people like John and Lida long fu-fu-fu-tuh to be holdin' hands and lookin' calf eyes at each other if they fu-fu-fu-tuh run together a little. You've fu-fu-fu-tuh held the girl too fu-tuh much to herself. Fu-fu-fu-fu-tuh give her some company. Fu-fu-tuh give her company."

"Yes," Colonel Lauriston's eyes narrowed as he spoke. "You mean give her John's company. Well, I don't mind telling you. I don't hanker after your land. It's made you too durned much like a—a—a—a—," here Colonel Lauriston became lost for a fitting adjective with which to describe the mass of fatty flesh before him. "I've got enough for Lida and her bub, Elvin and as for company, she's going to have that for I'm leaving next week for the North where Lida's to have a year at school and see some of the world and have company. Your John's a likely enough boy but he'll have to take his chances with the rest.

"My Elvin's finished off his schooling up there and it's done him a mighty sight o' good. He comes home this fall and Lida goes for her chance. When she gets back if John's willin' he can pop like any other man—same's you and I did, and take his answer. But as for me joining hands and plotting with you for that event, I tell you there's too many chances o' his bein' an old porpoise like you when he ages for me to go yelling for him to be my son-in-law. We've been good friends John—and good neighbors but man, durned if I want any of your fat on my hands."

Old John began to stammer a reply but before he could frame the words from around the corner of the house there came screams and shouts of a woman in raving madness and anger.

"Let me go, you rascals! Let me go! Don't you dare touch me. I will see him. Where's the old varmint? Where's he—where's he?—" Her screams became unintelligibly hysterical as she swept into view, two of the Negro servants who had been working on the lawn following and clutching at her hands.

Colonel Lauriston leaped from his chair and rushed toward the end of the veranda from which the sounds came. Old John Marley waddled puffingly behind, his flabby face agitated to a pale beet red flush. Colonel Lauriston reached the corner of the house almost in collision with the irate woman, who proved to be Mrs. Sally Gorton, a tenant on the estate the ousting of whose family had been one of the errands of Colonel Lauriston during his afternoon ride.

"Ah, you snake!" she screamed." Take that—and that—and that." With each word she applied a rawhide whip to Colonel Lauriston's head, face and shoulders. He sought wildly to seize the lash but she grabbed it from his hands and plied it again and again. Finding himself unable to prevent the blows the Colonel jumped back, at each step of retreat trying to catch the lash so as to wrench the whip from the woman. Her aim in each blow was perfect, however. With blazing eyes and hair streaming she seemed a veritable fury and to have uncanny knowledge of where to ply the lash so as to elude his grasp.

Lida, however, attracted from the house by the screams rushed to the veranda in time to see her father being lashed and jumped between him and the woman in time to receive one stroke across her shoulder. This blow across her tender flesh raised a welt of blue that could be seen quickly, showing its discoloring trace under the thin waist she wore. With no hesitating thought she braved the blow screaming to the servants to grab the whip. At her shout and the sight of the blow the two employees caught the whip and held it. Mrs. Gorton's fury seemed to change then and she railed like an infuriated witch.

"You'll drive me off my place, will you?—" she raged. "After all these years. Park Lauriston you're vile—you're rotten—you-you-you dog! After all I've done for you—after all I've been to you since your wife, the mother of that girl, died. Now when I'm getting old and no longer useful you'll put me off your place, will you? The day'll come when you'll be sorry—the sorriest man possible. You, with your pride of family. You'll be sorry Park Lauriston. There's justice for every wrong. This may be my punishment but neither the blood of the Carterets, nor the Beauforts of which you boast will save you. My day will come and from this time on I—I—curse you and your family."

Her hysteria seemed to subside with the imprecation pronounced in this most dramatic way, her hands uplifted and her face toward the skies. Her whitening hair, straggly and fallen in disarray, added to the weirdness and solemnity of the curse. As she lowered her head and turned away her hysteria changed to tears. Lida was clinging to her father protectingly, wide-eyed in wonder and trying to understand it all, her face toward the woman on whom she had always looked as a godmother but who was suddenly turned her enemy, fearing the imprecations and yet preserving a haughty pose.

"Yes," continued the woman addressing her words to Lida. "Stand there in your pride and protect him. You don't know him and it's a good thing you don't." Her anger rose again and she waved her hand as if to take in the whole sweep of the plantation. "You're all cursed," she shouted. "Your whole house is cursed and I'll live to see the day when ruin will stalk in your midst and you'll regret this day and doings. The whole brood of Lauristons is cursed."

Colonel Lauriston had caught his daughter in his arm protectingly now as they stood listening to the woman's ravings. When she ceased and turned away, Lida began to weep silently, depressed by the maledictions. Colonel Lauriston led her gently back into the house, the girl shuddering and asking between her sobs: "What does she mean, Daddy? What does she mean?"

Some of us reach maturity out of youth so gradually as to make the change unnoticeable; others bridge the gap in a night or a day while others are made men and women in an instant, by some great catastrophe or incident that sees us children one moment and adults the next. We face some great issue in life and the facing it makes over our natures and we become men and women. With the scene through which Lida Lauriston was just living she was leaving her youth and insouciance behind her. Life was gripping her in its whirl. She seemed to sense the change yet could not fathom it.

When her question remained unanswered, between her sobs as she clung to the arms that enfolded her, she asked again:

"Daddy, what did she mean? She-she-she was so horrid." Convulsive sobs were causing her body to shudder as the tears flowed again.

"Never mind, child," Colonel Lauriston comforted. "We'll be leaving for the North next week and be out of her way. She can't harm you anyway. She meant nothing. I just put her out of the crossroads house today and she's mad."

The scene was exceedingly painful to the three remaining on the veranda after the woman had departed followed by the servants. Colonel Lauriston's face was frightfully distorted with spasms of passion surging through him as well as the miserable, shuddering and hysterically weeping Lida as she half reclined in his arms.

The situation was also painful for Old John Marley; so intensely painful that when the ragings ceased with the maledictions and father turned toward the door with his daughter, Old John waddled toward the steps without attempt at adieus. He turned only long enough as he was about to descend to his buggy, to see Colonel Lauriston half leading, half supporting the almost swooning girl into the house at the same time saying:

"Never mind, Child—There now—Never mind—Dont cry any more. I'll take you right away and you'll soon forget the tauntings of the old woman. Don't you go and mind what Sally said."

"But Daddy, she str-str-struck you," Lida sobbed in another outburst. "And-and-and-said such horrid things."

Colonel Lauriston resorted to the pet name he had given his daughter when but little more than an infant so deeply was he moved to console the girl.

"Never mind, Nubbins—never mind, Honey—Forget her—We'll get ready and go North as soon as possible." He knew this was the one thing his daughter had set her heart on and had been planning for as well as dreaming of for some time and this appealed to him as the suggestion that might most easily cause her to forget the present unfortunate affair. "We'll get away the first of the week and then you'll forget. The winds up there'll bring back the calm to your soul and the color to your cheeks."

As he spoke he stroked the silver blond head that lay on his shoulder till the convulsive sobs grew fewer and fewer and finally quiet gripped Lida again.

Colonel Lauriston and his family differed much from most of those most noted in South Carolina largely because of the long line of illustrious ancestors through which the name had run from Colonial times to the present. Because of the boast of lineage in which blood was mingled that of Huguenots from the Carterets, the Oglethorpes, Cordovas and the Middletons, the family was one of the most exclusive in the state and only after the War of the States when the whole social fabric of the South was destroyed did the blood of less illustrious persons enter into the strain. In keeping with that background, Colonel Lauriston had insisted that his family preserve the purity of diction that would mark it from the remainder of the natives, hence neither he nor any of his household had allowed themselves to be affected by the nasal drawl so char- acteristic of the South. Not only did Colonel Lauriston scrupulously study himself to avoid this but he sought by education and the training of his children to prevent them from musically gliding over their words. To make sure that they remained untouched by the habit adopted all about them he had his children educated by correctly speaking tutors and instructors, surrounded them with persons who spoke only the purest language and sent them to schools in the North to secure their education.

It was in keeping with this custom of his that he had planned for his daughter, Lida, to have a year in the North at some finishing school before she should assume her place at the head of his domestic household, taking the place of his wife who had died when Lida was but a child.

Chapter 2

Market Square, in that Northern city to which Colonel Lauriston had brought his daughter for her year of polish and cultural finish was a busy mart on this delightful August morning when they arrived. The change from the stifling heat of the South to the entrancingly cooling blue New England sky and sunshine had already worked additional wonders in the cheeks and eyes of this flower of the Carolinas. The former were delicately pink tinted and the latter wider opened at the sights unfolding to her in this new world; sights new to her but so common to this staid old University city that they passed unnoted and ignored.

To Lida, however, whose horizon up to this time had been bound by vast fields of growing cotton, corn and wheat, broken here and there by forests of oak and tall pines this was a veritable fairy land from which she could see the wide blue bay with ships coming and going, tugs busily puffing away with their monstrous loads at their sides or trailing along behind, the tugs seeming like and reminding her of ants about her own home who tackled and carted away loads many times larger than their seemingly frail bodies and who, for their strength had always been a source of wonder and marvel to the girl. She was also reminded, as she watched the small tugs with their buffers of plaited rope at their bows steam up to some giant craft, of pictures of buffalos she had seen, with bushily lowered heads charging across the plains.

"Look, Daddy, aren't they wonderful? It doesn't seem as if they could pull those monstrous ships. How can they do it?" As she stood watching one of these little ants of the sea swing a ship of leviathan-like proportions from her slip, and point her down the bay, musical laughter of girlish delight rippled from her throat. Even Colonel Lauriston caught the spirit of his daughter and smiled happily as he enjoyed her chatter and comment, pleased that she was delighted and that he had been able to provide such joy for her. At her laughter also, even the matter-of-fact old New Englanders to whom such a sight was so common as to be beneath their notice paused, looked at the girl in her frank pleasure, then stopped also to enjoy the scene as if viewing it for the first time.

Colonel Lauriston stood for a few moments allowing Lida to take in the scenes that moved in panorama before her ere warning her that they had to finish their journey. As she stood gazing, entranced, down the harbor toward the sea, Colonel Lauriston, loathed to break the spell that held the girl, finally drew forth his watch and reminded her: "Come, Lida, Child, we must be going."

"Oh, Daddy, this is a wonderful place. I know I shall love it!" She exclaimed enthusiastically.

Without answering, Colonel Lauriston aided her into the taxicab that had been summoned when they alighted from the conveyance by which they had come from the train to the Square. He gave the address of their destination to the driver, then settled back, glad to see his daughter in such a happy mood. He had determined to place her in one of the most fashionable finishing institutions in New England, Miss Gregory's School for Girls, noted all over the country for the careful training and the standing given it among select schools, largely because of its proximity to one of the larger universities of the East, in the shadow of whose greatness this girls' school basked.

Nestling among the elms for which the city was famous, on a prominence around which the wealth and aristocracy of the city was grouped, the main building of Miss Gregory's school sat fronting a well kept lawn, the elms and lawn combining to create the picture of some monastery of heavy stone masonry. This structure had once been the home of an eccentric millionaire who toiled to accumulate, then erected this mausoleum in which he planned to pass his declining days overlooking the city below and amusing himself counting the passing small craft on the Seekonk River which passed the rear of his wide garden.

When the mansion was built it was then the fashion of New England aristocracy to acquire immense acres of land, build imposing structures on some prominent and well chosen part of it, fence in the entire plot with a high stone wall and make a fairy garden out of a portion of the enclosed land in the rear of the house, while utilizing the other part for garden purposes. Such had been the history of the ground now occupied by Miss Gregory's school. The entire plot covered some twelve acres with this threestoried cupola-studded castle-like building, now ivy overrun standing as a bar to entrance if viewed from the front; and like a monarch counting his fields if viewed from the distant rear. Running vines covered most of the stone wall, save at the corners where parapets like outposts were built.

In former years, as the cherry and pear trees ripe with tempting fruit stretched their tantalizing branches over the wall, every passing school boy on his way to swim cast longing eyes, but the height of the wall prevented any yielding to temptation. Also in the spring the garden seemed a veritable sanctuary for migratory birds who revel in the freedom of the place and its security as every breeze wafted to the street odors from blossoming flowers and trees.

Gradually as the city grew to and beyond the estate those who lived on the opposite sides of the streets bordering it were treated to the beauty within, their upper windows allowing clear view of the entire place.

The flowers and the gardens were still a feature as were also the birds in spring, but where there was otherwise silence and quiet now that Miss Gregory's school occupied the place, in the springtime and summer where bird songs once charmed and tempted the passerby to pause and listen, now there was the merry laughter of girls at fun. Where once the cherries and pears tempted passing boys now these were plucked from within by daring hoydenish girls, who once in a while in their daring peered over the wall at the passing city from their perches in the overhanging branches or sometimes dared discretion and the wrath of some instructor or governess to toss fruit to passing youth in a spirit of flirtation and in their exuberance of youthful spirit. When once the fruit was thrown there would be a bashful half-smothered scream and the youth would look up just in time to see a face quickly disappear.