Mam Lyddys Recognition

Lyddy's Recognition, by Thomas
Nelson Page

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Title: Mam' Lyddy's Recognition 1908
Author: Thomas Nelson Page
Release Date: November 16, 2007 [EBook #23512]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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LYDDY'S RECOGNITION ***

Produced by David Widger

MAM' LYDDY'S RECOGNITION
By Thomas Nelson Page
Charles Scribner's Sons New York, 1908

Copyright, 1891, 1904, 1906

I
When Cabell Graeme was courting pretty Betty French up at the
Château place, though he had many rivals and not a few obstacles to
overcome, he had the good fortune to secure one valuable ally, whose
friendship stood him in good stead. She was of a rich chocolate tint,
with good features, and long hair, possibly inherited from some Arab
ancestor, bead-like black eyes, and a voice like a harp, but which on
occasion could become a flame. Her figure was short and stocky; but
more dignity was never compressed within the same number of cubic
inches.
Mam' Lyddy had been in the French family all her life, as her mother
and grandmother had been before her. She had rocked on her ample
bosom the best part of three generations. And when Freedom came,
however much she may have appreciated being free, she had much too
high an estimate of the standing of the Frenches to descend to the level
of the class she had always contemned as "free niggers." She was a
deep-dyed aristocrat.
The Frenches were generally esteemed to be among the oldest and best
families in the county, and the Château plantation, with its wide fields
and fine old mansion, was commonly reckoned one of the finest in that
section. But no such comparative statement would have satisfied Mam'
Lyddy. She firmly believed that the Frenches were the greatest people
in the world, and it would have added nothing to her dignity had they
been princes, because it could have added nothing to it to be told that
she was a member of a royal house. Part mentor, part dependent, part
domestic, she knew her position, and within her province her place was
as unquestioned as was that of her mistress, and her advice was as
carefully considered.
Caesar, her husband, a tall, ebony lath, with a bald head and meek eyes,
had come out of another family and was treated with condescension.

No one knew how often he was reminded of his lower estate; but it was
often enough, for he was always in a somewhat humble and apologetic
attitude.
The Frenches were known as a "likely" family, but Betty, with her oval
face, soft eyes, and skin like a magnolia flower, was so undeniably the
beauty that she was called "Pretty Betty." She was equally undeniably
the belle. And while the old woman, who idolized her, found far more
pleasure than even her mother in her belleship, she was as watchful
over her as Argus. Every young man of the many who haunted the old
French mansion among its oaks and maples had to meet the scrutiny of
those sharp, tack-like eyes. The least slip that one made was enough to
prove his downfall. The old woman sifted them as surely as she sifted
her meal, and branded them with an infallible instinct akin to that of a
keen watchdog. Many a young man who passed that silent figure
without a greeting, or spoke lightly of some one, unheeding her
presence, wondered at his want of success and felt without knowing
why that he was pulling against an unseen current.
"We must drop him--he ain't a gent'man," she said of one. Of another:
"Oh! Oh! honey, he won't do. He ain't our kind." Or, "Betty, let him go,
my Lamb. De Frenches don't pick up dat kine o' stick."
Happily for Cabell Graeme, he had the old woman's approval. In the
first place, he was related to the Frenches, and this in her eyes was a
patent of gentility. Then, he had always been kind to little Betty and
particularly civil to herself. He not only never omitted to ask after her
health, but also inquired as to her pet ailments of "misery in her foot"
and "whirlin' in her head," with an interest which flattered her deeply.
But it went further back than that Once, when Betty was a little girl,
Cabell, then a well-grown boy of twelve, had found her and her
mammy on the wrong side of a muddy road, and wading through, he
had carried