Black and White Tangled Threads

By Zara Wright and Mint Editions

Black and White Tangled Threads (1920) is a novel by African American author Zara Wright. Published at the beginning of the Harlem Renaissance, Wright’s novel earned nationwide praise as a “realistic portrayal of individuals and events [that] lifts one to the heights of earthly ambitions.” Despite this critical success, Wright does not appear to have written more than Black and White Tangled Threads and its sequel, Kenneth, which were published together in 1920. Although recent scholars have made attempts to return her name to its rightful place on the pantheon of pioneering African American writers, mystery still clouds her life and career to this day. Like many of her contemporaries, Wright took interest in the sociopolitical realities of life as a Black or mixed-race person in the early twentieth century. In this novel, she explores the consequences of passing, interracial marriage, and class on the lives of individuals in the United States and Europe. Black and White Tangled Threads is a story of love, family, and faith from a forgotten writer of the Harlem Renaissance. This edition of Zara Wright’s Black White and Tangled Threads is a classic work of African American literature reimagined for modern readers.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Mint Editions
• Release date: May 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781513288086

Zara Wright

Zara Wright was an African American writer from Chicago. Not much is known about her beyond her status as the author of two novels: Black and White Tangled Threads and Kenneth, both published in 1920. Praised for her representation of urban family life, racial identity, and romance, Wright was considered an important figure of the Harlem Renaissance. In the decades since, however, her reputation has largely faded, leaving her novels long overdue for reappraisal from readers and critics alike.

Book preview

PREFACE

To

Black and White Tangled Threads

In writing this book I wish to impress its many readers, that this great and beautiful world in which we live, is sufficient in its greatness for all to live in peace and harmony. That in future years there may be no necessity for conflicts and wars to make any country safe to live in. We are commanded to love our neighbor as ourselves. If we followed this commandment, the conditions in which we live would be made more tolerable. We would find fewer obstacles in the path that leads to success and eventually the Heights. I feel that if one person has been benefited by reading the story written in these pages, that my efforts, although feeble, will not have been in vain.

Every life must have its shadows, and the tempestuous storm Only makes brighter the beautiful unfolding down.

THE AUTHOR

INTRODUCTION

To

Black and White Tangled Threads

The lives of each character portrayed in this book remind one of tangled skeins of threads. The heroine of this story portrays a type of womanhood so often sought for, so rarely found. Circumstances having placed her in a false position, she sacrifices her principles of right and wrong to save those near and dear to her from imaginary shame and humiliation. Paul Andrews, a southern planter, vies with the heroine in sharing honors. One cannot help admiring him. He plays an important part in this story. There are other characters that play such distinctive parts that we must leave it to the imagination of the reader to decide which is the most appealing.

In this story you will find food for sane and serious thought, eliminating much sordidness that often mars a story, leaving the reader with neither desire nor inclination to either remember or discuss its contents afterward. I sincerely hope that the many readers of Black and White Tangled Threads and the sequel, which we find under the same cover, may leave a sweet memory and that there will be a genuine sigh of regret when we read the last word, FINIS.

THE AUTHOR

I

THE THREE COUSINS

It was late in the month of September and it had been raining hard since early morning. Now, at the close of day it seemed as if the clouds felt ashamed and disappeared from view, the sun shedding its last rays over the distant hilltops and the valley beneath, the mellow light causing the raindrops that linger on tree and bush to look like pearls. This beauteous aspect of nature makes one loath to leave the scene and enter where art alone is responsible for the beauty of the interior of a grand old mansion, situated on one of the largest plantations of the Sunny South.

Thus felt a beautiful young girl as she stood enchanted while the soft breeze gently blew her long black hair in confusion around her exquisite face.

After repeated calls from her cousins, she turned and entered the house, where they were soon discussing an important event. They were to start North in a few days to enter a select boarding school for young ladies.

Catherine Marceaux was the eldest, just sixteen, the daughter of a haughty, impoverished widow, who was a sister to Paul Andrews, the owner of the mansion.

Paul Andrews, tall and handsome, had married and lost his wife in just one year, leaving a little daughter whom he called Aline after her mother. She was a sweet child, possessed of a sunny disposition that won her the name of Little Sunbeam, and was beloved by everyone.

The father idolized his child and she in turn fairly worshipped her father and would often leave her play and be found in the library, sitting contentedly at his feet for hours, sometimes falling asleep while waiting for him to put aside his books and papers. Then she would feel rewarded by the welcome he gave her. He often wished that his dead wife could see their lovely daughter.

The third cousin, the heroine of this story, is the most beautiful of the three. Her face is oval and her features are perfect, yet some thought that the nose was inclined to tilt upward. But if you would observe more closely you would find that it was the upward poise of the head that was misleading. Her complexion was fair although of a richer hue than her cousins, and her wonderful jet black hair hanging in long natural curls reached far below her waist and made her look most fair indeed, and no one would suspect that there flowed in her veins blood of a despised race,—the black slaves of the South. But such was the case. Zoleeta Andrews was a full cousin to Catherine Marceaux and Aline Andrews. The children of two brothers and one sister. Mrs. Marceaux bitterly resented it when her brother Paul brought home their orphan niece, making her one of the family, and as she expressed it, compelling them to come in contact with that negro child. She declared that Catherine should not recognize her as a relative.

To make matters worse, her brother was determined that Harold’s child should have the same accomplishments and advantages as their children. It was in vain that his sister cried and pleaded to have Harold’s child sent elsewhere, for Paul was inexorable, and she was compelled to abide by his decision.

Eighteen years preceding the events recorded, Paul Andrews and his sister Claretta, and a younger brother named Harold, lived with their parents, General and Mrs. Andrews, in the present homestead. At the age of eighteen Claretta married a man by the name of Leroy Marceaux, who was of French descent, as his name would imply.

It was some years later that their brother Harold ran away with and married Mildred Yates, a slave girl belonging on the plantation. His mother never recovered from the shock, shame and humiliation, but in the end forgave him and begged his father to forgive him also. Two years later, when General Andrews was laid beside his wife, Harold was still unforgiven.

Paul and his sister inherited all of the vast wealth. The homestead, a fine old mansion, fell to Paul. A few years later he had it remodeled and refurnished and no one was much surprised when he brought home a lovely bride. She was dearly beloved by all, but died a year later at the birth of their daughter Aline.

When Claretta married, her father gave her a liberal fortune, which she placed in the hands of her husband, subsequently she placed in his hands the entire fortune that she inherited through the death of her father. A few years later when her husband passed away, it was found that there was nothing left of the large fortune that had once been hers. It was then that her brother Paul went after her and brought her and her little daughter to take charge of his handsome home, to rear his child and manage the servants. She gladly accompanied her brother and was once more installed in her girlhood home.

Mrs. Marceaux was very domineering to those whom she considered her inferior and often took her brother to task for being too lenient with the servants. She was horrified to see his little daughter Aline walking hand in hand with the little colored children, but her brother only laughed and said there was no harm and that the children had but few pleasures and some of those consisted of being with his daughter and he had not the heart to separate them.

In a few years Aline would enter boarding school and all would be changed. But his sister could not forget how their brother Harold had disgraced them, and not having her brother’s optimistic views, remained unconvinced of the wisdom of the association.

Mildred Yates, the slave girl whom Harold married, had more education than the average slave girl. Her mother, a trusted servant of old Mrs. Andrews, had taught her to read and write and she had in turn taught her daughter Mildred all that she had learned, and with her limited opportunities and doubtful possibilities, succeeded in inspiring in her child a desire for knowledge. Her thirst for knowledge was so great that when her mother could teach her no more, she still tried to learn, but finding it difficult to proceed without help, went back to the beginning and went over all that she had previously learned.

Thus it was that her young master, Harold, found her one day when he was on a tour of inspection for his father. He was amazed at the sight of a beautiful slave girl, who had a piece of broken slate and a pencil trying to trace letters as her mother had taught her to do.

She arose at the approach of her young master, but not from fear, as she had never been punished or scolded. She was afraid, however, that he would laugh at her; but he spoke so kindly, asking to let him see what she was doing, that she let him take the piece of slate. After looking at it for a moment, he returned it, complimenting her on her successful efforts. He asked her if she would like to learn and she answered very brightly that she would. He promised to teach her if she would not tell anyone. Needless to say, she gave the required promise.

Day after day they met in an obscure place, remote from all danger of discovery. She proved to be a very diligent pupil and learned quite rapidly. It was not long before she could do her sums in arithmetic. In fact, she made such rapid progress in all of her studies, and was thinking of taking up more difficult work, that when Harold’s father decided to send him North to spend two years in college and another in travel, he at first rebelled, and declared that he would not go. He loved his mother dearly, however, and when she placed her arms around his neck and begged him to go for her sake, he consented.

He did not realize how dear Mildred had become to him until the hour of his departure. Besides being beautiful, her superior intellect gave promise of a glorious possibility in the future. He could no longer conceal from himself the fact that he was madly in love with his charming protege. Realizing that his heart was forever in the keeping of this beautiful slave girl, he resolved to have a talk with her before leaving for the North. Mildred had learned to love her young master as ardently as he loved her and unhesitatingly promised to follow his instructions in all things. Leaving her plenty of good books and admonishing her to be a good girl, he promised to return in three years and marry her.

Three years later when Harold returned to his home, he felt more than repaid for the love he had lavished on this slave girl. She had studied diligently and not only did she show mental improvement, but she had grown wondrously beautiful. Dressed in the garb worn by the southern slave, with no other adornment save those with which nature had provided, a beautiful face, a graceful, willowy form that even her coarse garments failed to hide, she looked like some princess in disguise. In Mr. Harold, who treated her with that courtesy and consideration that he would, had she been his equal in birth and social standing, she had utmost faith, and he was never guilty of doing aught to betray the confidence of this poor, innocent, trusting girl.

Ere many weeks had gone by, he had severed the fetters that bound her and they were safely landed in England. They were married without delay. Although he knew his father would disinherit him, that was of small consequence. Having a comfortable fortune of his own—a legacy from his godmother, and being young and energetic, he felt that he would succeed—and he did.

He wrote to his parents after his marriage, assuring them that he and his wife would remain abroad, thus relieving them of any embarrassment that they might feel. He begged their forgiveness and in a manly way, without exaggeration, dwelt on his wife’s many admirable qualities. Without defiance, but with that firmness of purpose which a deep and sincere love lends, he closed his letter by saying that he was very proud of his wife and had no regret for the step he had taken.

His father was furious. Harold has acted in a senseless, idiotic way, said he. What need to pluck one rose from the stem, when he could have inhaled the fragrance of many? (Thus unconsciously paying a beautiful compliment to Harold’s Afro-American wife.)

Paul felt the absence of his brother keenly, and greatly deplored the step he had taken. He often longed for his little brother, unmindful of the fact this his little brother had grown to be a handsome, broad-shouldered man.

II

THE LITTLE ORPHAN

Some years later Paul received a letter from his brother, telling him that Harold’s wife had died two years previous, leaving him a sweet little daughter. The letter also assured Paul that Harold’s days were numbered, according to the doctor’s statement which said that he might possibly live six or eight weeks. He begged Paul to come and take his little daughter home, assuring him that she was well provided for.

I came to India soon after my marriage, continued the letter, and by careful investments and close application to business, have become a successful merchant, more than doubling my wealth.

When Paul received this letter, he was filled with consternation. He felt that he could not do the thing that his brother had not only asked him, but expected him to do.

No. It is impossible to take that child into my home with a taint of slavery clinging to her ancestors, said he. I could not let my daughter associate with her. It is not to be thought of.

His sister agreed with him and declared it was an outrageous imposition for Harold to shift his negro child on them. However, it was decided that Paul should hasten to his brother’s bedside, take the child and place her in some institution until she became of age, making no other plans for her future, but trusting to time, circumstances and existing conditions to adjust matters satisfactorily to all concerned.

Paul left without delay and it was only by traveling night and day that he succeeded in reaching his brother’s side before death claimed him. As he listened to his brother he was convinced that his marriage had been a supremely happy one. Although he seemed loath to leave his little daughter, he appeared anxious to meet his wife, who had preceded to realms above. (Paul had not yet seen his brother’s child, and therefore was much disturbed because he felt that he could not heed his brother’s last request and asked himself how he could refuse to make his brother’s last hours happy.) He was visibly agitated, knowing that his brother’s eyes were scanning his face, perhaps reading perplexity and indecision there.

Presently there was a gentle, hesitating rap on the half open door. A sweet, childish voice said Papa, may I come in? Feeling sure of her welcome and scarcely waiting for a reply, she softly entered the room. Upon beholding the beautiful child, Paul Andrews was speechless with surprise. She showed no trace of the blood of her mother’s people, and was by far the prettiest child he had ever seen. He marveled at the beauty and grace of this little girl scarcely six years old.

The father, propped up in bed, looked on and felt that he could die in peace when he saw his brother open his arms and say: Darling, come to your uncle. She, unhesitatingly went to him, clasped her little arms around his neck and with her head pillowed on his breast, rested contentedly there. Ah! who knows by what instinct this little girl felt so content in the clasp of her uncle’s arms, though she had never seen him before. Was it some unseen power that made it plain to this little innocent child that in her uncle’s arms she would find a haven of rest, a shelter and protection from life’s tempestuous storms in the trying days to come? Who knows?

Paul Andrews registered a vow as he stroked the long glossy curls of his niece, to stand by her through life. Little did he think at that time that he would be called upon to defend and protect her from the treachery of those who should have felt near and dear to her through ties of blood. When the time came he did not hesitate to do his duty by his dead brother’s child.

Unclasping the little arms from around his neck, he glanced at his brother and realized that the Messenger had come—that Zoleeta was an orphan. Before she could realize that her father had gone to join her mother, her uncle had led her from the room. He told her that her father was now with her mother. At first, she was inconsolable, but after the first paroxysm of grief was over, she allowed her uncle to caress her while he explained that she would have two cousins to play with and they would love her dearly, for he had resolved to take Harold’s child home and rear her in a befitting manner.

In looking over Harold’s papers, he found two letters, one addressed to himself and one to Zoleeta to be given her when she became of age. Paul read his at once. His attention was called to a curiously carved ebony box that had been given his brother by an exiled prince, who lost most of his possessions and was forced into exile by existing conditions in his country. The death of the prince soon followed. This box was in an iron safe filled with precious stones, worth a king’s ransom. Paul opened the casket containing the jewels and never had he in his life beheld such jewels representing a vast fortune. He hastily closed the box, resolving to say nothing of its contents until Zoleeta was old enough to understand and appreciate their value.

Paul worked hard to settle up his brother’s affairs, but it was some weeks before he was ready to sail for home. He wrote his sister informing her of the death of their brother Harold. He also informed her that he would bring their orphaned niece home with him. When she read the letter she became very indignant because he had not placed the child in some institution as they had agreed to do.

Paul and Zoleeta finally arrived. Zoleeta’s aunt was dismayed at the sight of the most beautiful child that she had ever seen. She was amazed at this lovely graceful child, who had no badge to proclaim to the world that she had descended from the degraded race of negroes of the South. She could not understand it, and hated her dead brother’s child for her rare loveliness. She had no love in her heart for her little orphaned niece; no compassion for this helpless child, thrown on her care.

Paul took Zoletta by the hand and led her to his sister, saying: Claretta, this is Harold’s child. His sister made no attempt to welcome the little stranger to either her heart or her home, and, for an instant, seemed inclined to repulse the child, but a look from her brother changed her mind. She spoke a few cold words to her niece and it was plain to be seen that the little girl would have had a hard time in her new home had it not been for her uncle and Cousin Aline. As it was, there were many times that her little heart ached so badly that she wished she was up in the bright blue sky with her own dear father and mother.

Turning to his sister’s daughter, he said: Catherine, I have brought you a little new cousin. I hope you will help to make her happy. That little miss scarcely spoke to Zoleeta. She knew not why, but she saw that her mother was not pleased and felt that she must show her displeasure, also. Before Paul could speak to his daughter Aline, she had thrown her arms around her little cousin’s neck telling her how glad she was to see her.

I am so glad that you are going to stay with us always, said Aline as she led Zoleeta to see her little pet birds. Catherine followed, but said nothing.

When the cousins had left the room, Paul turned to his sister and said: Claretta, that is our dead brother’s child. Will you not help me to care for her and make her happy in her new home? Women know just what to do for little girls and Zoleeta is a sweet, lovable child. I was in hopes that you would love her for Harold’s sake.

You will find out that you have made a mistake by bringing the child here, replied Claretta, becoming more indignant as she continued, and if after years, she develops traits and habits of her mother’s people to the exclusion of the better blood flowing in her veins, causing us shame and humiliation, you must remember that I warned you and you will have no one to blame but yourself. In a few years, our daughters will make their bows to the world and a girl as beautiful as Zoleeta promises to be will prove detrimental to their prospects. Of course, continued she, Catherine has enough beauty of her own and will not be disturbed by the beauty of Harold’s child, but Aline is such a meek little creature that the chances are that she will be outshown by Zoleeta.

Paul was not disconcerted by this outburst of temper from his sister and was firm in his decision that each one should have an equal chance when they entered the social world.

Neither Zoleeta nor her cousins were aware of the secret of her parentage, and Paul impressed upon his sister that under no circumstances were they to be enlightened. There were old servants about the place who remembered their young master Harold, and that he had gone abroad and married, and who were not surprised when Mr. Andrews brought home the little orphan, telling them that his brother and wife had died abroad, leaving a little daughter who would henceforth remain in his home. No one, of course, had attached any importance to the disappearance of Mildred Yates, as it was not infrequent in those days for slaves to take advantage of every opportunity to escape. Paul felt that as no one except himself and sister knew the secret of Zoleeta’s parentage, it was perfectly safe.

III

CATHERINE’S JEALOUSY

The years went by, the cousins growing more beautiful each day. Finally, it was decided that they should go North to a select finishing school for young ladies. It was with many misgivings and after repeated talks with her brother, that Mrs. Marceaux was convinced he remained unchanged in his decision that Zoleeta was to enter the same school with her cousins.

If Paul could have seen and read his sister’s heart, how she was planning to humiliate and crush her niece, he would have been appalled. The night before the cousins started North, Mrs. Marceaux told Catherine the secret of Zoleeta’s parentage, thus betraying the confidence of her noble brother, who was endeavoring to shield Harold’s child from the consequence of her father’s act in his youth. It was Paul’s most sacred wish that no shadow of the past should rest upon her, marring her future and causing her shame and humiliation. It was his fondest hope that she might still cherish in the days to come, the same sweet memories of her father as in the days that were past and gone.

Mrs. Marceaux cautioned her daughter not to let her uncle know that she knew the secret of Zoleeta’s parentage as he would be very angry. Thus it was that when Catherine Marceaux departed for the North with her cousins, her mother had placed a weapon in her hand to wound her orphan cousin, and there came a time when she used it most cruelly.

Mr. Andrews accompanied the girls North and left them comfortably settled. He was pleased with their surroundings and before he left had a long talk with Zoleeta, telling her not to hesitate to call upon him at any time, that henceforth she must consider him a father as well as an uncle. She burst into tears and for a long time cried unrestrainedly. Those tears forged a link that already bound them by ties of blood and to the day of his death, Paul Andrews had two daughters instead of one.

On his return home, his sister greeted him affectionately, for, in spite of her cold selfish disposition, she dearly loved her handsome brother. Often when she looked at him she felt very much disturbed for fear he might bring another mistress to preside over his palatial home.

It was decided that the girls should spend their vacations at home, but they prevailed upon Mrs. Marceaux to allow them to accept an invitation to spend the time with a schoolmate. She reluctantly consented.

The following year Mrs. Marceaux was laid up with a sprained ankle and Mr. Andrews had business of importance that detained him at home, making it impossible for either of them to visit the girls. They were very much disappointed as they had not seen the girls since they entered the school, two years previous. They planned, however, to be present at their graduation the following year and accompany them home.

One day about six months before they had finished their course, the principal informed the school that they would have a musicale and reception. There would be visitors and refreshments would be served. She desired each one to do her best. For days, nothing else was talked about. Finally, the much talked of event arrived. Each one acquitted herself with credit. Catherine gave an instrumental solo, which was well received and generously applauded. Zoleeta was the last on the program. As she arose and moved gracefully forward, there was more than one admiring glance that followed her. Her rich, mellow voice rang out sweetly and held the audience entranced. She captivated the house. This closed the exercise and our heroine was the center of an admiring crowd, all eager to greet this queenly girl who carried off the honors of the day.

The pupils were highly complimented. Zoleeta’s schoolmates vied with each other in singing her praises. Her cousin Aline fairly smothered her with kisses and was standing with her arms around her, demonstrating to all how proud she was of her beautiful, talented cousin.

Not far away stood Catherine with a party of young people, some of them being schoolmates and others visitors. It was evident that