Oscar Micheaux - The Homesteader Epoch IV Chapter XIX lyrics

Epoch the Fourth CHAPTER XIX WHEN THE TRUTH BECAME KNOWN "I have hardly seen you for two days, my dear," he complained when Agnes had returned from the hearing. “I have been consumed with some very delicate business," she said, and notwithstanding the excitement she was laboring under, allowed him to caress her. At the same time he was regarding her strangely. For the first time he seemed to be aware of the fact that she was a rather strange person. He was trying to understand her eyes as everybody else had done, even herself. “Will Agnes tell me what has kept her so busy and away, I know not where?" he asked tenderly. "Or would she rather not now." “She'd rather not now," and she tried to be jolly, although she knew she must have failed miserably. “Very well, my dear. But, sweet one, when are you going to become my own?" She started. In the excitement she had so recently been through, the fact that she was engaged and expected to marry soon, had gone entirely out of her mind. "Why, really when?" She paused in her confusion, and he said quickly: “Let's just get married today!" “Oh, no, please don't ask me to so soon." He frowned. Then he was pleasant again. "Then, when, Agnes?" She was still confused, and in that moment thought of the legacy. She was more confused. He caught her hand then, and touched her cheek with his lips. After an hour she had told him of the legacy. “That place is less than a hundred miles from Chicago and we can just run down there today and back this evening! “he exclaimed, shifting in anxious excitement. “We can go there and back today, and be married tomorrow." “No," she said slowly. “I'll suggest that we have the legacy brought here, and attended to according to the will and all that has for a lifetime to me been a mystery, be cleared here in your and your aunt's presence. And the day after I will marry you." She dropped her eyes then in peculiar solemnity. He didn't understand her but the thrill of what was to come overwhelmed him, and in the next instant he held her in his arms. They explained their plans to his aunt, who, because she disliked notoriety, readily agreed, and by special messenger the papers were brought to the city the following day and opened according to her mother's will. The night before, as they were returning from the theatre, he said to her: “Agnes, do you know and I trust you will pardon me if it seems singular, but there is something about you I can never somehow feel I never will, understand." He paused then and she could see he was embarra**ed. “It is in your eyes. I see them in this hour and they are blue, but in the next they are brown. Has anyone ever observed the fact before? “he ended. She nodded, affirmatively. "Why is it, dear?" “I don't know." “And you you have noticed it yourself?" “Yes." “And can't you understand it, either?" She acknowledged the fact with her eyes. “It is strange. I'll be glad when we understand this legacy." “I will, too." “It makes me feel that something's going to happen. Perhaps we you are going to prove to be an heiress." She laughed cheerfully. “And then you will not want to marry me, maybe." She laughed again. “But nothing would keep me from loving you always, Agnes," he said with deep feeling. “Even if the papers would show me to be descended from some horrible pirate or worse." “Nothing in the world could make a difference. Indeed, should the papers connect you with something out of the ordinary, I think I would like you better that is, it would add even more mystery to your already mysterious self." "Wonderful!" He kissed her impulsively, and in the next hour she went off to bed. “What is this?" said her fiance's aunt, as the lawyer lifted a small package from the box of documents, and as he did so, an old photograph slipped and fell to the floor. It was yellow with age; but the reflection of the person was clearly discernible. All three looked at it in wonderment. Then her fiance and his aunt regarded her with apprehension. The package was untied, and all the papers gone through and much history was therein contained. But one fact stood above all others. “Is this a fact?" said the aunt coldly. Never had she appeared more dignified. Her nephew stood away, regarding Agnes out of eyes in which she could see a growing fear. “Well, I hope everything is clear," said the lawyer astutely. “It seems that you have come into something, madam, and I trust it will prove of value." She mumbled something in reply, and stood gazing at the two pictures she now held. All that had been so strange to her in life was at last clear. She understood the changing color of her eyes, and her father's statements that he had never quite explained. At last she knew who she was. She turned to find herself alone. She opened her lips and started to call the others, and then hesitated. Why had they left her? She looked at the photographs she held and understood. She gathered the documents and placed them in the box, went upstairs, slowly packed her belongings, and called a cab. Jean Baptiste came into the granary on the old claim, and looked out over the place. And as he did so, he regarded the spot where the sod house had once stood and wherein he had spent many happy days. As he thought of it, the past rose before him, and he lived through the sweetness again that a harvest had once brought him. That was years before, and in that moment he wished he could bring it back again. The Custom of the Country and its law had forbid, and he had paid the penalty. He wondered whether he would do the same again and sacrifice all that had been dear and risk the misery that had followed. He shifted, and in so doing his back was toward the road. "Withal, it would have been awkward to have married a white woman," he muttered, and reached for the cold lunch he had brought for his meal. Bill and George were eating in the field where they worked. “Batching is hell," he muttered aloud, and picked up a sandwich. “How very bad you are, Jean," he heard, and almost strained his neck in turning so quickly. "Agnes!" "Well, why not?" “But but oh, tell me," and then he became silent and looked away, raising the sandwich to his mouth mechanically. “Don't eat the cold lunch, Jean. I have brought some that is warm," so saying she uncovered the basket she carried, and he regarded it eagerly. “But, Agnes, how came you here? I I thought you were getting married. Are you here on on your wedding trip?" “Oh, Lord, no! No, Jean, I am not going to marry." "Not going to marry!" She shook her head and affected to be sad, but a little smile played around her lips that he saw but didn't understand. "But Agnes, why?" “Because the one to whom I was engaged well, he wouldn't marry me," and she laughed. “I wish you would make it all clear. At least tell me what it means that it is so." “It is so!" she said stoutly, and he believed her when he saw her eyes. “Well, I guess I'll understand by and by." “You will understand, soon, Jean," she said kindly. “Papa will explain everything." She turned her eyes away then, and in the moment he reached and grasped her hand. In the next instant he had dropped it, as a far away expression came into his eyes as if he had suddenly recalled something he would forget. “Jean," she cried, and came close to him. She looked up into his eyes and saw what was troubling him. She got beside him closely then. She placed an arm around him, and with her free hand she lifted his left hand over her shoulder and held his fingers as she looked away across the harvest fields, and sighed lightly as she said: “Something happened and I was strangely glad and came here because because I just had to see you, Jean." “Please, Jean. You will forget that now." She paused and was not aware that her arm was around him. and that his hand rested over her shoulder. Her eyes were as they had been that day near this selfsame spot years before, kind and endearing. She did not resist as she saw his manly love and felt his body quiver. And almost were his lips touching hers when suddenly, she saw him hesitate, and despite the darkness of his face, she could see that in that moment the blood seemed to leave it. He dropped the arms that had embraced her, and almost groaned aloud. As she stood regarding him he turned and walked away with his eyes upon the earth. She turned then and retraced her steps, but as she went along the roadway she was thinking of him and herself and who she was at last. She sighed, strangely contented, and was positive knew that in due time he too must come to understand.