The curving and the narrowing of the river took it at last from view;
and after it disappeared the spindling chimneys and their smoke, which
were along the bank above the town and bridge, leaving us to progress
through the solitude of marsh and wood and shore. The green levels of
stiff salt grass closed in upon the breadth of water, and we wound among
them, looking across their silence to the deeper silence of the woods
that bordered them, the brooding woods, the pines and the liveoaks,
misty with the motionless hanging moss, and misty also in that Southern
air that deepened when it came among their trunks to a caressing,
mysterious, purple veil. Every line of this landscape, the straight
forest top, the feathery breaks in it of taller trees, the curving
marsh, every line and every hue and every sound inscrutably spoke
sadness. I heard a mocking-bird once in some blossoming wild fruit tree
that we gradually reached and left gradually behind; and more than once
I saw other blossoms, and the yellow of the trailing jessamine; but the
bird could not sing the silence away, and spring with all her abundance
could not hide this spiritual autumn.
Dreams, a land of dreams, where even the high noon itself was dreamy; a
melting together of earth and air and water in one eternal gentleness of
revery! Whence came the melancholy of this? I had seen woods as solitary
and streams as silent, I had felt nature breathing upon me a greater
awe; but never before such penetrating and quiet sadness. I only know
that this is the perpetual mood of those Southern shores, those rivers
that wind in from the ocean among their narrowing marshes and their
hushed forests, and that it does not come from any memory of human hopes
and disasters, but from the elements themselves.
So did we move onward, passing in due time another bridge and a few
dwellings and some excavations, until the river grew quite narrow, and
there ahead was the landing at Live Oaks, with negroes idly watching for
us, and a launch beside the bank, and Charley and Hortense Rieppe about
to step into it. Another man stood up in the launch and talked to them
where they were on the landing platform, and pointed down the river as
we approached; but evidently he did not point at us. I looked hastily
to see what he was indicating to them, but I could see nothing save the
solitary river winding away between the empty woods and marshes.
So this was Hortense Rieppe! It was not wonderful that she had caused
young John to lose his heart, or, at any rate, his head and his senses;
nor was it wonderful that Charley, with his little bulging eyes, should
take her in his launch whenever she would go; the wonderful thing was
that John, at his age and with his nature, should have got over it--if
he had got over it! I felt it tingling in me; any man would. Steel wasp
indeed!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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