Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

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THE PILGRIM . PILGRIM STAFF First Row: Audrey Dutton, Mary Bodell, Jean Whiting, Alba Martinelli, Elizabeth Ryan, Priscilla McCosh. Second Row: Elizabeth Belcher, Janet Clark, Lucy Mayo, Dorothy Perkins, Arlene Raymond. Third Row: Warren Bradford, Francis Schied, Alan Hey, Lois Brewster, Mrs. Raymond. HONOR GROUP First Row: Mrs. Raymond, Elizabeth Belcher, Alba Martinelli, Jean Whiting, Dorothy Perkins, Priscilla McCosh, Margaret Fox, Arlene- Dries. Second Row: Vincent Baretti, Lucy Mayo, Pauline Viau, Deane Beytes, Lawrence Goodwin, Katherine Christie, Dorothy Varxdini. W

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30 THE PILGRIM every month, met the neighborhood gen- try. The family had owned the most land and possessed the most influence for so long that they were potential kings in their own domain. This glory of other times now hung in rags. James had never taken up his duties as squire with the small allowance from the in- come the will allowed-and never would. The room seemed to resent that, it hud- dled sullenly in its shadows and very reluctantly emerged as James's light sought it out as he advanced. Eddies of dust whirled vaguely after the disturbing feet. Clyde walked to the door that led into the hallway. He in- tended to go to the dining room where he would endeavor to build a fire, if there were any wood there. This room was too big, too full of memories. He didn't like it. The lightning flashed. A draught blew out his candle. Silhouetted in the open doorway down the hall stood a menacing figure, arm uplifted. The back of his scalp prickled and crawled. Cold sweat beaded his brow. His breath came with a painful, hoarse whistle. The light faded. Blackness rushed about him. He stood rooted with sud- den, unreasfoning terror that tore at his sanity. The world stood still. Wa- ter dripped from his cloak to his boots. He could hear it drop. Cold and damp- ness permeated him to the bone. At any moment he expected that avenging figure to rush at him from the darkness. His mind groped for reason telling him that this couldn't be true,-there were no avenging spirits. But his heart and soul screamed to him. The spirit of Robert demands retribution. You are going to die-die foully as he did! Realization came to him that in the very room in which he still stood, his brother had met him for the first time with the scales fallen from his eyes. James remembered everything he had striven to forget. He thought of him- self at twenty-two, a spoiled young man, pampered by an adoring, blind, older brother who saw in him only what he wished to see. Robert, weighted with responsibility, much older than James, delighted in giving James the pleasures that he never could have. Almost an invalid, neurotic and fearing death, he was suspicious and demanding of all save the brother he worshipped. Not even being sent down from Oxford with scandal that was the current gossip at- tached to him, persistent rumors of un- savory nature, his reputation as the gayest of young bucks, or enormous debts, could shake Robert from his de- lusions and dreams. He wanted James to sow his wild oats and return to set- tle down in the country with him. When he had started to exert gentle pressure on James to draw him from his pleasures, the young man resented it, drew back, and finally came into open rebellion. James remembered that fight- ing against gentle Robert was like punching a feather pillow-he was soft, easily hurt, but resilient. And then finally Robert had left the country and gone to London where he heard stories that had made him gasp and come hurrying back for James' denial - a denial that couldn't be convincingly given. In this room Robert had stormed and threatened, pleaded and cajoled, and under James' sullen silence had blazed into anger. James, his allowance cut off, had stood and listened and seen his soul stripped to its essential ugli- ness by a disillusioned, maddened man whose world had crumpled about his ears, to leave only dust and ashes in his mouth. And in James' resentful, hat- ing eyes had glowed and finally blazed -murder. Robert had not seen the terribleness of his brother's passion, and in the fol- lowing days had come to regard him as a wayward lamb. But he never could regain his old confidence and blind love for the man for whom he had had such hopes. And, unknown to James, he changed his will. He could not keep the money and lands from the rightful heir, but he had the power to keep him from squandering them, or so he thought. James had begun cold-bloodedly to plot to kill his brother. The last 'vestige of decency fell from him as he chafed under the sameness of each succeeding day and the absence of all that he had possessed--things for which he would sell his soul. And in the end he had heard the doctor announce the death of Robert, and knew that he had succeeded. He had known unholy joy and mentally blessed the poison that had given him the power to regain freedom. There had been no suspicion. Every- one was delightfully gullible, for in their minds such a deed as had been per- petrated could not be conceived of in one of the Clydes. James had rejoiced -until the will was read after Robert's ' s Continued on Page 32

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32 THE Continued from Page 30 funeral. Then he had cursed and storm- ed and threatened to break the will, but he knew it was unbreakable, and it made him wait ten years for the bulk of the estate. And one of the clauses said that he must meet the lawyer there or the estate would pass to his cousin. It named a generous sum that he would possess if he managed the estates, and a much smaller one that he would have if he left. Robert had futilely tried to bring James to his senses through his weakness for comfort, luxury, and pres- tige- to bring him solidity through the years before trusting him with a fortune. But he had calculated wrongly and James had raged from the house to the freedom and debauchery that held him in their powerful grip. So he had lived fon ten years, in debt most of the time, dragging his name through filth, anticipating the day when he would avenge these years by squandering his patrimony just as Robert had feared he would. James' mind came back to the pres- ent. He knew that it had been but sec- onds that he stood there. Still he felt years older. Another flash of lightning. James sobbed with joy. It hadn't moved! Then, suddenly he began to laugh hysterically. Tears of relief and self-derision rolled down his cheeks. The suit of armor! He had seen it a thou- sand times before and yet his over- wrought brain had believed it an avenging spirit. Ridiculous! Fumbling in his pockets, he again found a light for his candle and strode down the hall to confront the suit of armor. With a mace fastened to the hand and the arm upraised, it looked lifelike indeed. But a spirit.-Ha! He remembered that he had even thought of having Robert die apparently by be- ing accidentally struck down by the mace. He jeered at himself, snorted with disgust, and continued on his way. Entering the dining room, he immed- iately kindled a fire in the great fire- place. A good blaze going, his accus- tomed bravado again came to the fore. James ripped open a cupboard door and snatched a bottle of wine. impatiently knocking the top off on the table, he raised the bottle to his lips and drank deeply. After several drinks he felt himself fit to battle the devil, so, dragging a chair to the fireside, he sat down. Re- plenishing the fire and drink occupied PILGRIM him until midnight when his watch told him that the lawyer was due. But Law- yer Willows did not come. The minutes dragged.. James got up and began to fiing impatiently about the room. Still no lawyer! Wind and rain beat against the windows and, when an occasional heavier gust hurled itself against the pane, James started, looked about, and resumed his restless pacing. A disturbing thought had come to him. Could it be that Robert had sus- pected him, that this seemingly foolish test was a trap to betray him? He could almost feel the noose tighten around his neck. He gazed about like a hunted animal, his shifting, red eyes watching for anything suspicious. There was a tapping at the window. He glided quickly, silently to look out. There was no one there. Tap, tap -- again. A shiver ran up his spine. Then he saw the inquisitive limb that was the culprit. As if in obliging confirmation, it swayed once more and knocked. Mut- tering and cursing, he resumed his pere- grinations. A log fell in the fireplace, sending gleaming sparks up the chimney. Wa- ter dripped on the window-sill outside. He could hear his Watch above the crackle of the fire. And then, looking up, he saw his brother's accusing eyes menacing him. He told himself savagely that it was only a portrait. It couldn't harm him- he was flesh and bloodg he could de- stroy that canvas if he pleased. But when he moved, the eyes seemed to fol- low him - accusing - reproaching - wistful - angry - menacing. Robert's eyes begged him again to say it wasn't true. He could endure it no longer. Mad- ly he tore the portrait from the wall and cast it into the fire. It blazed up. But Robert's eyes were the last part to be consumed by the hungry fire. They seemed to reproach him even from the ashes. The house suddenly became unendur- able to James. The walls seemed to close in on him, the very chairs seemed hostile. The atmosphere of the room choked him. A horrible shriek came from the chimney, something came swooping down it. His brain flamed - something snapped inside him! He rushed from the room, gasping sobs of terror - something was chasing him! As he stumbled over the thres- hold past the armor, he was hit