They did, by the admirable feint of sudden deafness, and now the unknown Negro, Neil, faced his white wife, and he had no allies.

Chapter 35

There was but a three-minute walk to their own house. Vestal was silent, her hand trustingly on his arm, till they were on their doorstep, and she spoke then naturally, not angrily nor too carefully:

“My dear, why didn’t you tell me before? I’d’ve tried to understand and help.”

“I was going to. Dad sprang this on me before I’d worked out what I wanted to say. Now you can help me. The biggest question is: must I admit this publicly? It is the truth!”

“Hush now. Be quiet. I know what you’re going to do, because I know you!” She touched his lips to silence, and drew him into the house. Holding his hand as though they were young lovers again, she led him up to the pink-and-white room where Biddy was sleeping, curled tight, very earnest about it, with Prince curled and asleep at the foot of the low bed.

“Look at her, Neil. I know you wouldn’t let anyone hurt or shame her, and even if the story about Pic being a colored man were true, you wouldn’t tell the world, you wouldn’t torture her, to satisfy your vanity about being so truthful. But I’m as sure as I ever can be of anything, as sure as I am of your love or of our immortality, that the story is not true! There’s some mistake in what Gramma Julie told you—she’s old and forgetful—and she always was a malicious old pixie, curse her! We’ll find out there was some other Xavier Pic or Pick or Peake or whatever his horrible name was—and how I hate him! So! You’ll see! It’ll come out all right. Neil! Will you look at that child—all rose and satin and gold. There’s no Negro blood in her!”

But Neil remembered Phoebe Woolcape, all rose and satin and gold, and a Negro.

“We’ll wait and see,” was all he could manage.

* * * * *

Next morning, his father telephoned that, under the chairmanship of Counselor Beehouse, the family had Resolved that it was the sense of this assembly that Neil would please shut up.

It was weeks later when Neil received from Dr. Werweiss of the State Historical Society a copy of a letter from Xavier Pic to Major Joseph Renshaw Brown which had been found in the society’s files:

“The castors you ask about are not plentiful this winter. The white men have been stripping our forests. I have been thinking about you whites. Of course to the Ojibways I am white too as they recognize only white & Indian, but I think I would rather be counted as Indian then.

“You said to me, ‘Why don’t you defy them all and wear your black visage as a badge of honor?’ But why should I explain it or excuse it or think about it at all? Why should a man with red hair excuse it to men with black hair & brown & straw color?