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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29486-8.txt b/29486-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb9734b --- /dev/null +++ b/29486-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11048 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Forest Hearth: A Romance of Indiana in +the Thirties, by Charles Major + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Forest Hearth: A Romance of Indiana in the Thirties + +Author: Charles Major + +Release Date: July 22, 2009 [EBook #29486] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOREST HEARTH: A ROMANCE *** + + + + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + + A FOREST HEARTH + + [Illustration: Publishers symbol] + + [Illustration: "HE PRODUCED A SMALL GOLD WATCH WITH THE WORD 'RITA' + ENGRAVED UPON THE CASE."] + + + + + A Forest Hearth + + A ROMANCE OF INDIANA IN THE THIRTIES + + BY + + CHARLES MAJOR + + AUTHOR OF "DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL," "THE BEARS OF BLUE RIVER," + "WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER," ETC. + + + _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CLYDE O. DELAND_ + + New York + + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. + + 1903 + + _All rights reserved_ + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1903, + + BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. + + Set up, electrotyped, and published October, 1903. + + Norwood Press + + J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. + + Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + + +CHAPTER + + + PAGE + + I. ON THE HEART OF THE HEARTH 11 + + II. THE BACHELOR HEART 27 + + III. THE SYCAMORE DIVAN 45 + + IV. THE DEBUTANTE 61 + + V. UNDER THE ELM CANOPY 87 + + VI. THE FIGHT BY THE RIVER SIDE 107 + + VII. THE TRIAL 133 + + VIII. A CHRISTMAS HEARTH LOG 153 + + IX. DIC LENDS MONEY GRATIS 179 + + X. THE TOURNAMENT 203 + + XI. A KISS AND A DUEL 225 + + XII. THE LOVE POWDER 259 + + XIII. THE DIMPLER 281 + + XIV. WISE MISS TOUSY 303 + + XV. THE CHRISTMAS GIFT 329 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + + "He produced a small gold watch with the word 'Rita' + engraved upon the case" _Frontispiece_ + + "She changed it many times" 31 + + "She flung at the worthy shepherd the opprobrious words, 'You + fool'" 81 + + "'I've come to get my kiss,' said Doug" 121 + + "Covering her face with her hands, she began to weep" 191 + + "'Kill him, Dic; kill him as you would a wolf'" 255 + + "Miss Tousy softly kissed her and said, ... 'There, don't cry, + sweet one'" 315 + + "'Here,' replied the girl" 349 + + + + +ON THE HEART OF THE HEARTH + + + + +A Forest Hearth + +CHAPTER I + +ON THE HEART OF THE HEARTH + + +A strenuous sense of justice is the most disturbing of all virtues, and +those persons in whom it predominates are usually as disagreeable as +they are good. Any one who assumes the high plane of "justice to all, +and confusion to sinners," may easily gain a reputation for goodness +simply by doing nothing bad. Look wise and heavenward, frown severely +but regretfully upon others' faults, and the world will whisper, "Ah, +how good he is!" And you will be good--as the sinless, prickly pear. If +the virtues of omission constitute saintship, and from a study of the +calendar one might so conclude, seek your corona by the way of justice. +For myself, I would rather be a layman with a few active virtues and a +small sin or two, than a sternly just saint without a fault. Breed +virtue in others by giving them something to forgive. Conceive, if you +can, the unutterable horror of life in this world without a few blessed +human faults. He who sins not at all, cannot easily find reason to +forgive; and to forgive those who trespass against us, is one of the +sweetest benedictions of life. I have known many persons who built their +moral structure upon the single rock of justice; but they all bred +wretchedness among those who loved them, and made life harder because +they did not die young. + +One woman of that sort, I knew,--Mrs. Margarita Bays. To her face, or in +the presence of those who might repeat my words, I of course called her +"Mrs. Bays"; but when I felt safe in so doing, I called her the "Chief +Justice"--a title conferred by my friend, Billy Little. Later happenings +in her life caused Little to christen her "my Lady Jeffreys," a +sobriquet bestowed upon her because of the manner in which she treated +her daughter, whose name was also Margarita. + +The daughter, because she was as sweet as the wild rose, and as gentle +as the soft spring sun, received from her friends the affectionate +diminutive of Rita. And so I shall name her in this history. + +Had not Rita been so gentle, yielding, and submissive, or had her +father, Tom Bays,--husband to the Chief Justice,--been more combative +and less amenable to the corroding influences of henpeck, I doubt if +Madam Bays would ever have attained a dignity beyond that of "Associate +Justice." That strong sense of domineering virtue which belongs to the +truly just must be fed, and it waxes fat on an easy-going husband and a +loving, tender daughter. + +In the Bays home, the mother's righteous sense of justice and duty, +which applied itself relentlessly upon husband and daughter, became the +weakest sort of indulgence when dealing with the only son and heir. +Without being vicious, Tom, Jr., was what the negroes called "jes' clean +triflin'," and dominated his mother with an inherited club of inborn +selfishness. Before Tom's selfishness, Justice threw away her scales and +became maudlin sentiment. + +I have been intimately acquainted with the Bays family ever since they +came to Blue River settlement from North Carolina, and I am going to +tell you the story of the sweetest, gentlest nature God has ever given +me to know--Rita Bays. I warn you there will be no heroics in this +history, no palaces, no grand people--nothing but human nature, the +forests, and a few very simple country folk indeed. + +Rita was a babe in arms when her father, her mother, and her +six-year-old brother Tom moved from North Carolina in two great +"schooner" wagons, and in the year '20 or '21 settled upon Blue River, +near the centre of a wilderness that had just been christened "Indiana." + +The father of Tom Bays had been a North Carolina planter of considerable +wealth and culture; but when the old gentleman died there were eight +sons and two daughters among whom his estate was to be divided, and some +of them had to choose between moving west and facing the terrors of +battle with nature in the wilderness, and remaining in North Carolina to +become "poor white trash." Tom Bays, Sr., had married Margarita, +daughter of a pompous North Carolinian, Judge Anselm Fisher. Whether he +was a real judge, or simply a "Kentucky judge," I cannot say; but he was +a man of good standing, and his daughter was not the woman to endure the +loss of caste at home. If compelled to step down from the social +position into which she had been born, the step must be taken among +strangers, that part at least of her humiliation might be avoided. + +With a heart full of sorrow and determination, Madam Bays, who even then +had begun to manifest rare genius for leadership, loaded two "schooners" +with her household goods, her husband, her son, and her daughter, and +started northwest with the laudable purpose of losing herself in the +wilderness. They carried with them their inheritance, a small bag of gold, +and with it they purchased from the government a quarter-section--one +hundred and sixty acres--of land, at five shillings per acre. The land +on Blue was as rich and fertile as any the world could furnish; but for +miles upon miles it was covered with black forests, almost impenetrable to +man, and was infested by wild beasts and Indians. Here madam and her +husband began their long battle with the hardest of foes--nature; and +that battle, the terrors of which no one can know who has not fought it, +doubtless did much to harden the small portion of human tenderness with +which God had originally endowed her. They built their log-cabin on the +east bank of Blue River, one mile north of the town of the same name. +The river was spoken of simply as Blue. + +Artistic beauty is not usually considered an attribute of log-cabins; +but I can testify to the beauty of many that stood upon the banks of +Blue,--among them the house of Bays. The main building consisted of two +ground-floor rooms, each with a front door and a half-story room above. +A clapboard-covered porch extended across the entire front of the house, +which faced westward toward Blue. Back of the main building was a +one-story kitchen, and adjoining each ground-floor room was a huge +chimney, built of small logs four to six inches in diameter. These +chimneys, thickly plastered on the inside with clay, were built with a +large opening at the top, and widened downward to the fireplace, which +was eight or ten feet square, and nearly as high as the low ceiling of +the room. The purpose of these generous dimensions was to prevent the +wooden chimney from burning. The fire, while the chimney was new, was +built in the centre of the enormous hearth that the flames might not +touch the walls, but after a time the heat burnt the clay to the +hardness of brick, and the fire was then built against the back wall. By +pointing up the cracks, and adding a coat of clay now and then, the +walls soon became entirely fireproof, and a fire might safely be kindled +that would defy Boreas in his bitterest zero mood. An open wood fire is +always cheering; so our humble folk of the wilderness, having little +else to cheer them during the long winter evenings, were mindful to be +prodigal in the matter of fuel, and often burned a cord of wood between +candle-light and bedtime on one of their enormous hearths. A cord of +wood is better than a play for cheerfulness, and a six-foot back-log +will make more mirth than Dan Rice himself ever created. Economy did not +enter into the question, for wood was nature's chief weapon against her +enemies, the settlers; and the question was not how to save, but how to +burn it. + +To this place Rita first opened the eyes of her mind. The girl's +earliest memories were of the cozy log-cabin upon the banks of the +limpid, gurgling creek. Green in her memory, in each sense of the word, +was the soft blue-grass lawn, that sloped gently a hundred yards from +the cabin, built upon a little rise in the bottom land, down to the +water's edge. Often when she was a child, and I a man well toward middle +life, did I play with the enchanting little elf upon the blue-grass +lawn, and drink the waters of perennial youth at the fountain of her +sweet babyhood. Vividly I remember the white-skinned sycamores, the +gracefully drooping elms, and the sweet-scented honey-locust that grew +about the cabin and embowered it in leafy glory. Even at this long +distance of time, when June is abroad, if I catch the odor of locust +blossoms, my mind and heart travel back on the wings of a moment, and I +hear the buzzing of the wild bees, the song of the meadow-lark, the +whistle of bob-white, and the gurgling of the creek--all blended into +one sweet refrain like the mingling tones of a perfect orchestra by the +soft-voiced babble of my wee girl-baby friend. I close my eyes, and see +the house amid the hollyhocks and trees, a thin line of blue smoke +curling lazily from the kitchen chimney and floating away over the deep, +black forest to the north and east. I see the maples languidly turning +the white side of their leaves to catch the south wind's balmy breath, +and I see by my side a fate-charged, tiny tot, dabbling in the water, +mocking the songs of the birds, and ever turning her face, with its +great brown wistful eyes, to catch the breath of destiny and to hear the +sad dread hum of the future. But my old chum Billy Little was the +child's especial friend. + +In those good times there was another child, a boy, Diccon Bright, who +often came down from his cabin home a mile up river to play with Rita on +the blue-grass lawn in summer, or to sit with her on the hearth log in +winter. In cold weather the hearth log was kept on one side of the +hearth, well within the fireplace itself, ready for use when needed. It +gloried in three names, all of which were redolent of home. It was +called the "hearth log" because it was kept upon the hearth; the +"waiting log" because it was waiting to take the place of the log that +was burning, and the "ciphering log" because the children sat upon it in +the evening firelight to do their "ciphering"--a general term used to +designate any sort of preparation for the morrow's lesson. In those +times arithmetic was the chief study, and from it the acquisition of all +branches of knowledge took the name of ciphering. + +Diccon--where on earth his parents got the name, I cannot tell--was four +or five years older than Rita. He was a manly boy, and when my little +friend could hardly lisp his name she would run to him with the unerring +instinct of childhood and nestle in his arms or cling to his helpful +finger. The little fellow was so sturdy, strong, and brave, and his dark +gray eyes were so steadfast and true, that she feared no evil from him, +though ordinarily she was a timid child. She would sit by him on the +ciphering log during the long winter evenings, and the boy, the girl, +and the fire were the best of friends, and had glorious times together +on the heart of the cheery hearth. The north wind might blow, the snow +might snow, and the cold might freeze, Rita, Dic, and the fire cared not +a straw. + +"I want no better mirror, my little sweetheart," he would say, "than +your brown eyes; no prettier color than your rosy cheeks and glossy +black hair, and no truer friend than your loving little heart." And the +fire crackled its entire approval. + +"Very well, Dic," she would reply, laughing with delight, "if you really +want them, you may have them; they are all yours." And the fire smiled +rosily, beaming its benediction. + +"But what will your father and mother say and Tom?" asked Dic. + +"We'll not tell them," replied this tiny piece of Eve; and the fire +almost choked itself with spluttering laughter. So, with the fire as a +witness, the compact was made and remade many times, until she thought +she belonged to Dic and gloried in her little heart because of it. + +Diccon and Rita's brother, Tom, even during their early childhood, when +they were hardly half so tall as the guns they carried, were companion +knights in the great wars waged by the settlers against the wild beasts +of the forests, and many a bear, wolf, wildcat, and deer fell before the +prowess of small Sir Diccon la Valorous and little Sir Thomas de +Triflin'. Out of their slaughter grew friendship, and for many years Sir +Thomas was a frequent guest upon the ciphering log of Sir Diccon, and +Sir Diccon spent many winter evenings on the hearth at Castle Bays. + +As the long years of childhood passed, Dic began to visit the Bays home +more frequently than Tom visited the Brights'. I do not know whether +this change was owing to the increasing age of the boys, or--but Rita +was growing older and prettier every day, and you know that may have had +something to do with Dic's visits. + +Dic had another boy friend--an old boy, of thirty-five or more--whose +name was William Little. He was known generally as Billy Little, and it +pleased the little fellow to be so called, "Because," said he, "persons +give the diminutive to fools and those whom they love; and I know I am +not a fool." The sweetest words in the German language are their home +diminutives. It is difficult to love a man whom one _must_ call Thomas. +Tom, Jack, and Billy are the chaps who come near to us. + +Billy was an old bachelor and an Englishman. His family had intended him +for the church, and he was educated at Trinity with that end in view. +Although not an irreligious man, he had views on religion that were far +from orthodox. + +"I found it impossible," he once remarked, "to induce the church to +change its views, and equally impossible to change my own; so the church +and I, each being unreasonably stubborn, agreed to disagree, and I threw +over the whole affair, quarrelled with my family, was in turn thrown +over by them, and here I am, in the wilderness, very much pleased." + +He lived in the little town of Blue River, and was justice of the peace, +postmaster, storekeeper, and occasionally school-teacher. He was small +in stature, with a tendency to become rotund as he grew older. He took +pride in his dress and was as cleanly as an Englishman. He was +reasonably willing to do the duty that confronted him, and loved but +three forms of recreation,--to be with his two most intimate friends, +Rita and Dic, to wander in the trackless forests, and to play upon his +piano. His piano was his sweetheart, and often in the warm summer +evenings, when his neighbors were in bed, would the strains of his music +lull them to sleep, and float out into the surrounding forests, +awakening the whippoorwill to heart-rending cries of anguish that would +give a man the "blues" for a month. I believe many ignorant persons +thought that Billy was not exactly "right in the top," as they put it, +because he would often wander through the forests, night or day, singing +to himself, talking to the trees and birds, and clasping to his soul +fair nature in her virgin strength and sweetness. He often communed +with himself after this fashion: "I am a fortunate man in the things I +love, for I have them to my heart's content. Rita and Dic are children. +I give them knowledge. They give me youth. I touch my piano. It fills my +soul with peace. If it gives me a discordant note, the fault is mine. I +go to the forest, and sweet Nature takes me in her arms and lulls me to +ecstasy." + +Billy Little and I had been college chums, and had emigrated on the same +ship. I studied law, entered the practice, married, and have a family. +While my wife and family did not mar the friendship between Little and +myself, it prevented frequency of intercourse, for a wife and family are +great absorbents. However, he and I remained friends, and from him I +have most of the facts constituting this story. + +This friend of Dic's was a great help to the boy intellectually, and at +fourteen or fifteen years of age, when other boys considered their +education complete if they could spell phthisis and Constantinople, our +hero was reading Virgil and Shakespeare, and was learning to think for +himself. The knowledge obtained from Billy Little the boy tried to +impart to Rita. Tom held learning and books to be effeminate and +wasteful of time; but Rita drank in Dic's teaching, with now and then a +helpful draught from Billy Little, and the result soon began to show +upon the girl. + +Thus it was that Dic often went to see Tom, but talked to Tom's sister. +Many an evening, long after Tom had unceremoniously climbed the rude +stairway to bed, would the brown-eyed maid, with her quaint, wistful +touch of womanhood, sit beside Dic on the ciphering log inside the +fireplace, listening to him read from one of Billy Little's books, +watching him trace continents, rivers, and mountains on a map, or +helping him to cipher a complicated problem in arithmetic. The girl by +no means understood all that Dic read, but she tried, and even though +she failed, she would clasp her hands and say, "Isn't it grand, Dic?" +And it was grand to her because Dic read it. + +Lamps were unknown to our simple folk, so the light of the fireplace was +all they had to read by. It was, therefore, no uncommon sight in those +early cabin homes to see the whole family sitting upon the broad hearth, +shading their eyes with their hands, while some one--frequently the +local school-teacher--sat upon the hearth log and read by the fire that +furnished both light and heat. This reading was frequently Dic's task in +the Bays home. + +One who has seen a large family thus gathered upon the spacious hearth +will easily understand the love for it that ages ago sprang up in the +hearts of men and crickets. At no place in all the earth, and at no time +in all its history, has the hearth done more in moulding human character +than it did in the wilderness on the north side of the lower Ohio when +the men who felled the forest and conquered nature offered their humble +devotions on its homely altar. + +So it came to pass that Dic and Rita grew up together on the heart of +the hearth; and what wonder that their own hearts were welded by the +warmth and light of its cheery god. Thus the boy grew to manhood and the +girl to maidenhood, then to young womanhood, at which time, of course, +her troubles began. + +Chief among the earlier troubles of our little maid was a growing +tenderness for Dic. Of that trouble she was not for many months aware. +She was unable to distinguish between the affection she had always given +him and the warming tenderness she was beginning to feel, save in her +disinclination to make it manifest. When with him she was under a +constraint as inexplicable to her as it was annoying. It brought grief +to her tender heart, since it led her into little acts of rudeness or +neglect, which in turn always led to tears. She often blamed Dic for the +altered condition, though it was all owing to the change in herself. +There was no change in him. He sought the girl's society as frankly as +when they were children, though at the time of which I write he had made +no effort to "keep company" with her. She, at fifteen, believing herself +to be a young lady, really wished for the advances she feared. Sukey +Yates, who was only fourteen, had "company" every Sunday evening, and +went to all the social frolics for miles around. Polly Kaster, not +sixteen, was soon to be married to Bantam Rhodes. Many young men had +looked longingly upon Rita, who was the most beautiful girl on Blue; but +the Chief Justice, with her daughter's hearty approval, drove all +suitors away. The girl was wholly satisfied with Dic, who was "less than +kin," but very much "more than kind." He came to see the family, herself +included; but when he went out to social functions, church socials, +corn-huskings, and dances he took Sukey Yates, or some other girl, and +upon such evenings our own little maiden went to bed dissatisfied with +the world at large, and herself in particular. Of course, she would not +have gone to dances, even with Dic. She had regard for the salvation of +her soul, and the Chief Justice, in whom the girl had unquestioning +faith, held dancing to be the devil's chief instrument of damnation. +Even the church socials were not suitable for young girls, as you will +agree if you read farther; and Mrs. Margarita, with a sense of propriety +inherited from better days, tried to hold her daughter aloof from the +country society, which entertained honest but questionable views on many +subjects. + +Dic paid his informal visit to the Bays household in the evenings, and +at the time of the girl's growing inclination she would gaze longingly +up the river watching for him; while the sun, regretful to leave the +land, wherein her hero dwelt, sank slowly westward to shine upon those +poor waste places that knew no Diccon. When she would see him coming +she would run away for fear of herself, and seek her room in the loft, +where she would scrub her face and hands in a hopeless effort to remove +the sun-brown. Then she would scan her face in a mirror, for which Dic +had paid two beautiful bearskins, hoping to convince herself that she +was not altogether hideous. + +"If I could only be half as pretty as Sukey Yates," she often thought, +little dreaming that Sukey, although a very pretty girl, was plain +compared with her own winsome self. + +After the scrubbing she would take from a little box the solitary piece +of grandeur she possessed,--a ribbon of fiery red,--and with this around +her neck or woven through the waving floods of her black hair, she felt +she was bedecked like a veritable queen of hearts. But the ribbon could +not remove all doubts of herself, and with tears ready to start from her +eyes she would stamp her foot and cry out: "I hate myself. I am an ugly +fool." Then she would slowly climb down the rude stairway, and, as we +humble folk would say, "take out her spite" against herself on poor Dic. +She was not rude to him, but, despite her inclination, she failed to +repay his friendliness in kind as of yore. + +Tom took great pleasure in teasing her, and chuckled with delight when +his indulgent mother would tell her visiting friends that he was a great +tease. + +One evening when Rita had encountered more trouble than usual with the +sun-brown, and was more than ever before convinced that she was a fright +and a fool, she went downstairs, wearing her ribbon, to greet Dic, who +was sitting on the porch with father, mother, and Tom. When she emerged +from the front door, Tom, the teaser, said:-- + +"Oh, just look at her! She's put on her ribbon for Dic." Then, turning +to Dic, "She run to her room and spruced up when she saw you coming." + +Dic laughed because it pleased him to think, at least to hope, that Tom +had spoken the truth. Poor Rita in the midst of her confusion +misunderstood Dic's laughter; and, smarting from the truth of Tom's +words, quickly retorted:-- + +"You're a fool to say such a thing, and if--if--if--Mr.--Mr. Bright +believes it, he is as great a fool as you." + +"Mr. Bright!" cried de Triflin'. "My, but she's getting stylish!" + +Rita looked at Dic after she spoke, and the pain he felt was so easily +discernible on his face that she would have given anything, even the +ribbon, to have had her words back, or to have been able to cry out, "I +didn't mean it, Dic; I didn't mean it." + +But the words she had spoken would not come back, and those she wanted +to speak would not come forward, so tears came instead, and she ran to +her loft, to do penance in sobs greatly disproportionate to her sin. + +Soon Dic left, and as he started up the forest path she tried by gazing +at him from her window to make him know the remorse she felt. She wanted +to call to him, but she dared not; then she thought to escape unseen +from the house and run after him. But darkness was rapidly falling, and +she feared the black, terrible forest. + +We talk a great deal about the real things of after life; but the real +things of life, the keen joys and the keenest pains, come to a man +before his first vote, and to a woman before the days of her mature +womanhood. + + + + +THE BACHELOR HEART + +CHAPTER II + +THE BACHELOR HEART + + +Rita's first great pain kept her sleepless through many hours. She +resolved that when Dic should come again she would throw off the +restraint that so hurt and provoked her, and would show him, at whatever +cost, that she had not intended her hard words for him. + +The next day seemed an age. She sought all kinds of work to make the +time pass quickly. Churning, usually irksome, was a luxury. She swept +every nook and corner of the house, and longed to sweep the whole farm. + +That evening she did not wait till Dic was in sight to put on her +ribbon. She changed it many times from her throat to her hair and back +again, long before the sun had even thought of going down. + +Her new attitude toward Dic had at least one good effect: it took from +her the irritation she had so often felt against herself. Losing part of +her self-consciousness in the whirl of a new, strong motive, wrought a +great change, not only in her appearance, but also in her way of looking +at things--herself included. She was almost satisfied with the image her +mirror reflected. She might well have been entirely satisfied. There was +neither guile nor vanity in the girl's heart, nor a trace of deceit in +her face; only gentleness, truth, and beauty. She had not hitherto given +much thought to her face; but with the change in her way of seeing Dic, +her eyes were opened to the value of personal beauty. Then she began to +wonder. Regret for her hard words to Dic deepened her longing for +beauty, in the hope that she might be admired by him and more easily +forgiven. Billy Little, who had seen much of the world, once said that +there was a gentleness and beauty about Rita at this time which he +believed no other woman ever possessed. She was child and woman then, +and that combination is hard to beat, even in a plain girl. Poor old +Billy Little! He was more than thirty years her senior, but I believe +there is no period in the life of a bachelor, however case-hardened he +may be, when his heart is entirely safe from the enemy. That evening +Rita sat on the porch watching for Dic. But the sun and her heart went +down, and Dic did not come. + +The plaintive rain cry of a whippoorwill from the branches of a dead +tree across the river, and the whispering "peep, peep, peep," of the +sleepy robins in the foliage near the house, helped to deepen her +feeling of disappointment, and she was thoroughly miserable. She tried +to peer through the gloaming, and feared her father and mother would +mark her troubled eagerness and guess its cause. But her dread of their +comments was neutralized by the fear that Dic would not come. + +Opportunity is the touchstone of fate, save with women. With them it is +fate itself. Had Dic appeared late that evening, there would have been a +demonstration on Rita's part, regardless of who might have seen, and the +young man would have discovered an interesting truth. Rita, deeply +troubled, discovered it for herself, and thought surely it was plain +enough for every one else to see. + +When darkness had fallen, she became reckless of concealment, and walked +a short way up the river in the hope of meeting Dic. The hooting of an +owl frightened her, but she did not retreat till she heard the howling +of a wolf. Then she ran home at full speed and went to bed full of the +most healthful suffering a heart can know--that which it feels because +of the pain it has given another. + +[Illustration: "SHE CHANGED IT MANY TIMES."] + +Thus Dic missed both opportunity and demonstration. The next evening he +missed another opportunity, and by the morning of the third day our +little girl, blushing at the thought, determined to write to him and ask +his forgiveness. There was one serious obstacle to writing: she had +neither paper nor ink, nor money with which to buy them. Hitherto she +had found little use for money, but now the need was urgent. Tom always +had money, and she thought of begging a few pennies from him. No! Tom +would laugh, and refuse. If she should ask her mother, a string of +questions would ensue, with "No" for a snapper. Her father would +probably give her money, if she asked for it; but her mother would ask +questions later. She would ride to town, one mile south on Blue, and ask +credit of her old friend, Billy Little, to the extent of a sheet of +paper and a small pot of ink. For a pen she would catch a goose, pluck a +quill, and ask Billy to cut it. Billy could cut the best pen of any one +on Blue. + +Dinner over, she caught the goose after an exciting chase, plucked the +quill, saddled her horse, and was slipping away from the back yard when +her mother's voice halted her. + +"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Margarita. + +"I'm--I'm--going--going to see Sukey Yates," answered the girl. + +She had not intended going to Sukey's, but after her mother's peremptory +demand for information, she formed the _ex post facto_ resolution to do +so, that her answer might not be a lie. + +"Now, what on earth do you want there?" asked the Chief Justice. + +"I--I only want to sit awhile with her," answered Rita. "May I go? The +work is all done." + +"No, you shan't go," responded the kind old lady. You see, one of the +maxims of this class of good persons is to avoid as many small +pleasures as possible--in others. That they apply the rule to +themselves, doesn't help to make it endurable. + +Rita--with whom to hear was to obey--sprang from her horse; but just +then her father came upon the scene. His soft words and soothing +suggestions mollified Justice, and Rita started forth upon her visit to +Sukey. She had told her mother she was going to see Sukey Yates; and +when she thought upon the situation, she became convinced that her _ex +post facto_ resolution, even though honestly acted upon, would not avail +her in avoiding a lie, unless it were carried out to the letter and in +the spirit. There was not a lie in this honest girl--not a fractional +part of a lie--from her toes to her head. She went straight to see +Sukey, and did not go to town, though she might easily have done so. She +did not fear discovery. She feared the act of secret disobedience, and +above all she dreaded the lie. A strong motive might induce her to +disobey, but the disobedience in that case would be open. She would go +to Sukey's to-day. To-morrow she would go to town in open rebellion, if +need be. The thought of rebellion caused her to tremble; but let the +powers at home also tremble. Like many of us, she was brave for +to-morrow's battle, since to-morrow never comes. + +Rita was not in the humor to listen to Sukey's good-natured prattle, so +her visit was brief, and she soon rode home, her heart full of trouble +and rebellion. But the reward for virtue, which frequently fails to make +its appearance, waited upon our heroine. When she was about to dismount +at the home gate, her father called to her:-- + +"While you're on your horse, Rita, you might ride to town and ask Billy +Little if there's a letter. The mail came in three days ago." + +The monster, Rebellion, at once disappeared, and the girl, +conscience-smitten, resolved never, never to entertain him again. She +rode down the river path through the forest, happy after many days of +wretchedness. + +Billy Little's store building consisted of two log-built rooms. The long +front room was occupied by the store and post-office. The back room, as +Billy said, was occupied by his piano and himself. When he saw Rita, +clothed in dainty calico and smiles, gallop up to the hitching-post, his +heart was filled with joy, his face beamed with pleasure, and his scalp +was suffused by a rosy hue. Billy's smooth-shaven face was pale, the +blood never mounting to his cheeks, so he made amends as best he could +and blushed with the top of his head. + +"Good evening to you, Rita," he said, as he lifted her to the ground and +hitched her horse. "I am delighted to see you. You come like the rosy +sun after a rainy day." + +"The sun doesn't come after the day, Billy Little," retorted the +laughing girl. "You probably mean the pale moon, or a poor dim little +star." + +"I know what I mean," answered the little old fellow in tones of mock +indignation, "and I'll not allow a chit of a girl to correct my +astronomy. I'm your schoolmaster, and if I say the sun comes after the +day, why after the day it comes. Now, there!" he continued, as they +entered the store. "Turn your face to the wall and do penance. Such +insolence!" + +The girl faced the wall, and after a moment she looked laughingly over +her shoulder at him. "If you'll let me turn around, I'll admit that the +sun comes at midnight, if you say it does, Billy Little." + +"Midnight it is," said Billy, sternly. "Take your seat." + +She ran laughing to Billy, and clasping his arm affectionately, said +with a touch of seriousness:-- + +"It comes whenever you say it does, Billy Little. I'd believe you before +I'd believe myself." + +Poor old bachelor heart! Look to your breastworks; the enemy is at hand. + +"Now I've noticed," said cynical Billy, "that whenever the feminine +heart wants something, it grows tender. What do you want?" + +"I want a letter, Billy Little. Father sent me down to fetch it, if +there is one." + +"Yes, there's one here," he answered, going back of the glass-covered +pigeon-holes. "There's one here from Indianapolis. It's from your Uncle +Jim Fisher. I suppose he's after your father again to sell his farm and +invest the proceeds in the Indianapolis store. Precious fool he'll be if +he does." + +"Indeed, he would not be a fool," retorted the girl. "I'm just wild for +father to move to Indianapolis. I don't want to grow up in the country +like a ragweed or mullein stalk, and I--" ("Like a sweetbrier or a +golden-rod," interrupted Billy) "and I don't want you to advise him not +to go," she continued, unmindful of Billy's flowers of poesy. + +"Well, here's the letter. Do you want anything else?" + +"N-o-o-no." + +"Then, for once, I've found a disinterested female in a coaxing mood," +replied this modern Diogenes. He came from behind the counter, +pretending to believe her, and started toward the door. + +"How's Dic?" he asked. "I haven't seen him for a fortnight. I've been +wondering what has become of him." The girl's face turned red--painfully +so to Billy--as she replied:-- + +"I--I haven't seen him either for--for a very long time--three days." +She stopped talking and Billy remained silent. After a long pause she +spoke up briskly, as if she had just remembered something. + +"Oh, I almost forgot--there _is_ something I want, and--and after all, +you're right. I want--I want--won't you--will you--I say, Billy Little, +won't you let me have a sheet of writing paper and a pot of ink, and +won't you cut this pen for me?" + +Billy took the quill and turned to go behind the counter. The girl was +dancing nervously on her toes. "But say, Billy Little, I can't pay you +for them now. Will--will--you trust me?" + +Billy did not reply, but went to the letter-paper box. + +"You had better take more than one sheet, Rita," he said softly. "If +you're going to write a love-letter to Dic, you will be sure to spoil +the first sheet, perhaps the second and third." + +Billy's head blushed vividly after he had spoken, for his remark was a +prying one. The girl had no thought of writing a love-letter, and she +resented the insinuation. She was annoyed because she had betrayed her +purpose in buying the paper. But she loved Billy Little too dearly to +show her resentment, and remained silent. The girl, Billy, and Dic +differing as much as it is possible for three persons to differ, save in +their common love for books and truth, had been friends ever since her +babyhood, and Billy was the only person to whom she could easily lay +bare her heart. Upon second thought she concluded to tell him her +trouble. + +"It was this way, Billy Little," she began, and after stumbling over +many words, she made a good start, and the little story of her troubles +fell from her lips like crystal water from a babbling spring. + +After her story was finished--and she found great relief in the +telling--Billy said:-- + +"Of course I'll trust you. I'd trust you for the whole store if you +wanted to buy it. I'd trust you with my soul," he added after a pause. +"There's not a false drop of blood in your veins." + +"Ah, Billy Little," she answered, as she took his hand caressingly for +an instant, and her eyes, with their wonderful capacity for expression, +said the rest. + +"So, you see, I _do_ want to write a letter to Dic," she said, dropping +his hand; "but it is not to be a love-letter. I could not write one if I +wished. I was very wicked. Oh, Billy Little, I honestly think, at times, +I'm the worst girl that ever lived. Something terrible will happen to me +for my wickedness, I'm sure. Mother says it will." + +"Yes, something terrible--terrible, I'm sure," returned Billy, musingly. + +"And I want to apologize to him," she continued, "and tell him I didn't +mean it. Isn't it right that I should?" + +"Oh, yes--yes," answered Billy, starting out of his revery. "Of course, +yes--Maxwelton's braes are bonny--um--um--um--um--um--yes, oh yes." + +When vexed, pleased, or puzzled, Billy was apt to hum the opening line +of "Annie Laurie," though the first four words were all that received +the honor of distinct articulation. The remainder of the stanza he +allowed to die away under his breath. Rita was of course familiar with +the habit, but this time she could not tell which motive had prompted +the musical outburst. Billy himself couldn't have told, but perhaps the +bachelor heart was at the bottom of it. + +"Thank you, Billy Little, for the paper," said Rita. "I'll pay you with +the first money I get." Billy silently helped her to mount her horse. +She smiled, "Good-by," and he walked slowly back to the store muttering +to himself: "Billy Little, Billy Little, your breastworks are weak, and +you are a--Maxwelton's braes--um--um--um--um.--Ah, good evening, Mrs. +Carson. Something I can do for you this evening? Sugar? Ah, yes, plenty. +Best in town. Best shipment I ever had," and Billy was once more a +merchant. + +When Rita reached home supper was ready, and after the supper work was +finished it was too dark to write; so the letter was postponed a day, +and she took her place on the porch, hoping that Dic would come and that +the letter might be postponed indefinitely. But he did not come. Next +morning churning had again become loathsome, sweeping was hard work, and +dinner was a barbarous institution. Rita had no appetite, and to +sympathize with those who are hungry one must be hungry. + +Innumerable very long minutes had woven themselves into mammoth hours +when Rita, having no table in her room, found herself lying on the floor +writing her momentous letter. It was not to be a love-letter; simply an +appeal for forgiveness to a friend whom she had wantonly injured. + +"Dear old Billy Little," she said to herself, when she opened the +package. "What pretty paper--and he has given me six sheets in place of +one--and a little pot of ink--and a sand-box! I wonder if the quill is a +good one! Ah, two--three quills! Dear old Billy Little! Here is enough +paper to last me for years." In that respect she was mistaken. She +experienced difficulty with effort number one, but finished the letter +and read it aloud; found it wholly unsatisfactory, and destroyed it. She +used greater care with the next, but upon reading it over she found she +had said too much of what she wished to leave unsaid, and too little of +what she wanted to say. She destroyed number two with great haste and +some irritation, for it was almost a love-letter. The same fate befell +numbers three, four, and five. After all, Billy's liberal supply of +paper would not last for years. If it proved sufficient for one day, she +would be satisfied. Number six, right or wrong, must go to Dic, so she +wrote simply and briefly what was in her heart. + + "DEAR FRIEND DIC: My words were not intended for you. I was angry + with Tom, as I had good reason to be, though he spoke the truth. I + did put on my ribbon because I saw you coming, and I have cried + every night since then because of what I said to you, and because + you do not come to let me tell you how sorry I am. You should have + given me a chance. I would have given you one. RITA." + +It was a sweet, straightforward letter, half-womanly, half-childish, and +she had no cause to be ashamed of it; but she feared it was bold, and +tears came to her eyes when she read it, because there were no more +sheets of paper, and modest or bold it must go to Dic. + +Having written the letter, she had no means of sending it; but she had +entered upon the venture, and was determined to carry it through. Mrs. +Bays and her husband had driven to town, and there was no need for _ex +post facto_ resolutions. When the letter had been properly directed and +duly sealed, the girl saddled her horse and started away on another +journey to Sukey Yates. This time, however, she went somewhat out of her +way, riding up the river path through the forest to Dic Bright's home. +When she reached the barnyard gate Dic was hitching the horses to the +"big wagon." He came at Rita's call, overjoyed at the sight of her. He +knew she had come to ask forgiveness. For many months past he had tried +not to see that she was unkind to him, but her words on the porch had +convinced him, and he saw that her coldness had been intentional. Of +course he did not know the cause of her altered demeanor, and had +regretfully put it down to an altered sentiment on her part. But when he +saw her at the barnyard gate, he was again in the dark as to her motive. + +When Dic came up to her she handed him the letter over the gate, +saying: "Read it alone. Let no one see it." + +Dic had only time to say, "Thank you," when the girl struck her horse +and galloped down the forest path, bound for Sukey. When she had passed +out of sight among the trees, Dic went down the river to a secluded +spot, known as "The Stepoff," where he could read the letter without +fear of detection. He had long suspected that his love for the girl was +not altogether brotherly, and his recent trouble with her had +crystallized that suspicion into certainty. But he saw nothing back of +the letter but friendship and contrition. The girl's love was so great a +treasure that he dared not even hope for it, and was more than satisfied +with the Platonic affection so plainly set forth in her epistle. We who +have looked into Rita's heart know of a thing or two that does not +resemble Platonism; but the girl herself did not fully know what she +felt, and Dic was sure she could not, under any circumstances, feel as +he did. His mistake grew partly out of his lack of knowledge that +woman's flesh and blood is of exactly the same quality that covers the +bones and flows in the veins of man, and--well, Rita was Rita, and, in +Dic's opinion, no other human being was ever of the quality of her +flesh, or cast in the mould of her nature. The letter told him that he +still held her warm, tender love as a friend. He was thankful for that, +and would neither ask nor expect anything more. + +If upon Rita's former visit to Sukey she had been too sad to enjoy the +vivacious little maiden, upon this occasion she was too happy. She sat +listening patiently to her chat, without hearing much of it, until Sukey +said:-- + +"Dic was over to see me last night. I think he's so handsome, don't +you?" + +Rita was so startled that she did not think anything at the moment, and +Sukey presently asked:-- + +"Don't you think he has a fine head? and his eyes are glorious. The gray +is so dark, and they look right at you." + +Rita, compelled to answer, said, "I think he is--is all right--strong." + +"Indeed, he is strong," responded Sukey. "When he takes hold of you, you +just feel like he could crush you. Oh, it's delicious--it's +thrilling--when you feel that a man could just tear you to pieces if he +wanted to." + +"Why?" asked Rita; "I don't understand." + +"Oh, just because," replied Sukey, shrugging her shoulders and laughing +softly, her red lips parted, her little teeth glistening like wet ivory, +and the dimples twinkling mischievously. + +"Just because" explained nothing to Rita, but something in Sukey's +laughter and manner aroused undefined and disagreeable suspicions, so +she said:-- + +"Well, Sukey, I must be going home." + +"Why, you just came," returned Sukey, still laughing softly. She had +shot her arrow intentionally and had seen it strike the target's centre. +Sukey was younger than Rita, but she knew many times a thing or two; +while poor Rita's knowledge of those mystic numbers was represented by +the figure O. + +Why should Dic "take hold" of any one, thought Rita, while riding home, +and above all, why should he take hold of Sukey? Sukey was pretty, and +Sukey's prettiness and Dic's "taking hold" seemed to be related in some +mysterious manner. She who saw others through the clear lens of her own +conscience did not doubt Dic and Sukey, but notwithstanding her +trustfulness, a dim suspicion passed through her mind that something +might be wrong if Dic had really "taken hold" of Sukey. Where the evil +was, she could not determine; and to connect the straightforward, manly +fellow with anything dishonorable or wicked was impossible to her. So +she dismissed the subject, and it left no trace upon her mind save a +slight irritation against Sukey. + +Rita felt sure that Dic would come to see Tom that evening, and the red +ribbon was in evidence soon after supper. Dic did come, and there was at +least one happy girl on Blue. + + + + +THE SYCAMORE DIVAN + +CHAPTER III + +THE SYCAMORE DIVAN + + +A virgin love in the heart of a young girl is like an effervescent +chemical: it may withstand a great shock, but a single drop of an +apparently harmless liquid may cause it to evaporate. This risk Dic took +when he went that evening to see Tom; and the fact that Rita had written +her letter, of which she had such grave misgivings, together with the +words of Sukey Yates, made his risk doubly great. Poor Dic needed a +thorough knowledge of chemistry. He did not know that he possessed it, +but he was a pure-minded, manly man, and the knowledge was innate with +him. + +"Good evening, Rita," said Dic, when, after many efforts, she came out +upon the porch where he was sitting with her father, her mother, and +Tom. + +"Good morning," answered Rita, confusedly, and her mistake as to the +time of day added to her confusion. + +"Good morning!" cried Tom. "It's evening. My! but she's confused because +you're here, Dic." + +Tom was possessed of a simian acuteness that had led him to discover +poor Rita's secret before she herself was fully aware of its existence. +She, however, was rapidly making the interesting discovery, and feared +that between the ribbon, the letter, and Tom's amiable jokes, Dic would +discover it and presume upon the fact. From the mingling of these doubts +and fears grew a feeling of resentment against Dic--a conviction before +the fact. She wished him to know her regard for him, but she did not +want him to learn it from any act of hers. She desired him to wrest it +from her by main force, and as little awkwardness as a man may use. Had +Dic by the smallest word or act shown a disposition to profit by what +Rita feared had been excessive frankness in her letter, or had he, in +any degree, assumed the attitude of a confident lover, such word or act +would have furnished the needful chemical drop, and Dic's interests +would have suffered. His safety at this time lay in ignorance. He did +not suspect that Rita loved him, and there was no change in his open +friendly demeanor. He was so easy, frank, and happy that evening that +the girl soon began to feel that nothing unusual had happened, and that, +after all, the letter was not bold, but perfectly right, and quite +proper in all respects. Unconsciously to her Dic received the credit for +her eased conscience, and she was grateful to him. She was more +comfortable, and the evening seemed more like old times than for many +months before. + +Soon after Dic's arrival, Tom rode over to see Sukey Yates. As the +hollyhock to the bees, so was Sukey to the country beaux--a conspicuous, +inviting, easily reached little reservoir of very sweet honey. Later, +Mr. and Mrs. Bays drove to town, leaving Dic and Rita to themselves, +much to the girl's alarm, though she and Dic had been alone together +many times before. Thus Dic had further opportunity to make a mistake; +but he did not mention the letter, and the girl's confidence came slowly +back to her. + +The evening was balmy, and after a time Dic and Rita walked to the crest +of the little slope that fell gently ten or fifteen feet to the water's +edge. A sycamore log answered the purpose of a divan, and a great +drooping elm furnished a royal canopy. A half-moon hung in the sky, +whitening a few small clouds that seemed to be painted on the blue-black +dome. The air, though not oppressive, was warm enough to make all +nature languorous, and the soft breath of the south wind was almost +narcotic in its power to soothe. A great forest is never still; even its +silence has a note of its own. The trees seem to whisper to each other +in the rustling of their leaves. The birds, awakened by the wind or by +the breaking of a twig, speak to their neighbors. The peevish catbird +and the blue jay grumble, while the thrush, the dove, and the redbird +peep caressingly to their mates, and again fall asleep with gurgles of +contentment in their throats. + +Rita and Dic sat by the river's edge for many minutes in silence. The +ever wakeful whippoorwill piped his doleful cry from a tree across the +water, an owl hooted from the blackness of the forest beyond the house, +and the turtle-doves cooed plaintively to each other in their +far-reaching, mournful tones, giving a minor note to the nocturnal +concert. Now and then a fish sprang from the water and fell back with a +splash, and the water itself kept up a soft babble like the notes of a +living flute. + +Certainly the time was ripe for a mistake, but Dic did not make one. A +woman's favor comes in waves like the flowing of the sea; and a wise +man, if he fails to catch one flood, will wait for another. Dic was +unconsciously wise, for Rita's favor was at its ebb when she walked down +to the river bank. Ebb tide was indicated by the fact that she sat as +far as possible from him on the log. The first evidence of a returning +flood-tide would be an unconscious movement on her part toward him. +Should the movement come from him there might be no flood-tide. + +During the first half-hour Dic did most of the talking, but he spoke +only of a book he had borrowed from Billy Little. With man's usual +tendency to talk a subject threadbare, he clung to the one topic. A few +months prior to that time his observations on the book would have +interested the girl; but recently two or three unusual events had +touched her life, and her dread that Dic would speak of them, was +rapidly growing into a fear that he would not. By the end of that first +half-hour, her feminine vivacity monopolized the conversation with an +ostentatious display of trivial details on small subjects, and she began +to move toward his end of the log. Still Dic kept his place, all +unconscious of his wisdom. + +Geese seemed to be Rita's favorite topic. Most women are clever at +periphrasis, and will go a long way around to reach a desired topic, if +for any reason they do not wish to approach it directly. The topics Rita +wished to reach, as she edged toward Dic on the log and talked about +geese, were her unkind words and her very kind letter. She wished to +explain that her words were not meant to be unkind, and that the letter +was not meant to be kind, and thought to reach the desired topics by the +way of geese. + +"Do you remember, Dic," she asked, "a long time ago, when Tom and I and +the Yates children spent the afternoon at your house? We were sitting +near the river, as we are sitting now, and a gray wolf ran down from the +opposite bank and caught a gander?" + +"Yes, I remember it as if it were yesterday," replied Dic. + +"Geese are such fools when they are frightened," continued Rita, +clinging to her subject. + +"So are people," answered Dic. "We are all foolish when frightened. The +other day the barn door slammed to with a crash, and I was so frightened +I tried to put the collar in the horse's mouth." Rita laughed, and Dic +continued, "Once I was in the woods hunting, and a bear rose up--" + +"But geese are worse than anybody when disturbed," interrupted Rita, +"worse even than you when the barn door slams. The other day I wanted to +catch a goose to get a--" + +"They are not worse than a lot of girls at gabbling," interrupted Dic, +ungallantly retaliating for Rita's humorous thrust. + +"They are not half so dull as a lot of men," she replied, tossing her +head. "When men get together they hum and hum about politics and crops, +till it makes one almost wish there were no government or crops. But +geese are--the other day I wanted to catch one to get a--" + +"All men don't hum and hum, as you say," returned Dic. "There's Billy +Little--you don't think he hums, do you?" + +"No," answered the girl; "Billy Little always says something when he +talks, but he's always talking. I will put him against any man in the +world for a talking match. But the other day I wanted to catch a goose +to get a quill, and--" + +"Oh, that reminds me," broke in Dic, "my Uncle Joe Bright is coming to +visit us soon. Talk about talkers! He is a Seventh Day Adventist +preacher, and his conversation--no, I'll say his talk, for that's all it +is--reminds me of time." + +"How is that?" queried Rita. + +"It's made up of small particles, goes on forever, and is all seconds. +He says nothing first hand. His talk is all borrowed." + +Rita laughed and tried again. "Well, I wanted to catch--" + +"You just spoke of a talking match," said Dic. "I have an idea. Let us +bring Billy Little and my uncle together for a talking match." + +"Very well," replied Rita, laughing heartily. "I'll stake my money on +Billy Little. But I was saying, the other day I--" + +"I'll put mine on Uncle Joe," cried Dic. "Billy Little is a 'still Bill' +compared with him." + +Rita was provoked, and I think with good reason; but after a pause she +concluded to try once more. + +"The other day I wanted a quill for a pen, and when I tried to catch a +goose I thought their noise would alarm the whole settlement." + +"Geese awakened Rome," said Dic. "If they should awaken Blue River, it, +also, might become famous. The geese episode is the best known fact +concerning the Eternal City--unless perhaps it is her howling." + +"Rome had a right to howl," said Rita, anxious to show that she +remembered his teaching. "She was founded by the children of a wolf." + +Dic was pleased and laughingly replied: "That ponderous historical +epigram is good enough to have come from Billy Little himself. When you +learn a fact, it immediately grows luminous." + +The girl looked quickly up to satisfy herself that he was in earnest. +Being satisfied, she moved an inch or two nearer him on the log, and +began again:-- + +"I wanted to catch the goose--" but she stopped and concluded to try the +Billy Little road. "Dear old Billy Little," she said, "isn't he good? +The other day he said he'd trust me for the whole store, if I wanted to +buy it. I had no money and I wanted to buy--" + +"Why should he not trust you for all you would buy?" asked Dic. "He +knows he would get his money." + +The Billy Little route also seemed hilly. She concluded to try another, +and again made a slight movement toward Dic on the log. + +"I went from your house this afternoon over to Sukey's." She looked +stealthily at Dic, but he did not flinch. After a pause she continued, +with a great show of carelessness and indifference, though this time she +moved away from him as she spoke. "She said you had been over to see her +last night." And to show that she was not at all interested in his +reply, she hummed the air of a song and carefully scrutinized a star +that was coming dangerously close to the moon. + +"Yes, I went over to borrow their adze. Ours is broken," returned Dic. + +The song ceased. Star and moon might collide for all the singer cared. +She was once again interested in things terrestrial. + +"Now, Dic," she cried, again moving toward him and unduly emphasizing +the fact that she was merely teasing (she talked to tease, but listened +to learn), "now, Dic, you know the adze was only an excuse. You went to +see Sukey. You know you did. Why didn't you borrow Kaster's adze? They +live much nearer your house." She thought she had him in a trap, and +laughed as if she were delighted. + +"I went to Kaster's first. They had none." + +The girl concluded she was on the wrong road. But the side road had +suddenly become interesting, and she determined to travel it a short +way. Silence ensued on Dic's part, and travel on the side road became +slow. Rita was beginning to want to gallop. If she continued on the side +road, she feared her motive might grow to look more like a desire to +learn than a desire to tease; but she summoned her boldness, and with a +laugh that was intended to be merry, said:-- + +"Dic, you know you went to see Sukey, and that you spent the evening +with her." + +"Did she say I did?" he asked, turning sharply upon her. + +"Well--" replied Rita, but she did not continue. The Sukey Yates road +_was_ interesting, unusually so. + +Dic paused for an answer, but receiving none, continued with emphasis:-- + +"I did not go into the house. I wasn't there five minutes, and I didn't +say ten words to Sukey." + +"You need not get mad about it," replied the girl. "I don't care how +often you go to see Sukey or any other girl." + +"I know you don't," he returned. "Of course you don't care. I never +hoped--never even dreamed--that you would," and his breath came quickly +with his bold, bold words. + +"You might as well begin to dream," thought the girl, but she laughed, +this time nervously, and said, "She told me you were there and +took--took hold of--that is, she said you were so strong that when you +took hold of her she felt that you could crush her." Then forgetting +herself for a moment, she moved quite close to Dic and asked, "_Did_ you +take--take--" but she stopped. + +"Tell me, Rita," returned Dic, with a sharpness that attracted her +attention at once, "did she say I took hold of her, or are you trying to +tease me? If you are teasing, I think it is in bad taste. If she said--" + +"Well," interrupted the girl, slightly frightened, "she said that when +you take hold of one--" + +"Oh, she did not say herself?" asked Dic. + +"I don't see that she could have meant any one else," replied Rita. +"But, dear me, I don't care how often you take hold of her; you need not +get angry at me because you took hold of her. There can be no harm in +taking hold of any one, I'm sure, if you choose to do so; but why one +should do it, I don't know, and I'm sure I don't care." + +No _ex post facto_ resolution could cure that lie, though of course it +is a privileged one to a girl. + +Dic made no reply, save to remark: "I'll see Miss Sukey to-morrow. If I +wanted to 'take hold' of her, as she calls it, I would do so, but--but +I'll see her to-morrow." + +The answer startled Rita. She did not want to be known as a tale-bearer. +Especially did she object in this particular case; therefore she +said:-- + +"You may see her if you wish, but you shall not speak to her of what I +have told you. She would think--" + +"Let her think what she chooses," he replied. "I have never 'taken hold' +of her in my life. Lord knows, I might if I wanted to. All the other +boys boast that they take turn about, but--. She would be a fool to tell +if it were true, and a story-teller if not. So I'll settle the question +to-morrow, and for all time." + +A deal of trouble might have been saved had Rita permitted him to make +the settlement with Sukey, but she did not. The infinite potency of +little things is one of the paradoxes of life. + +"No, you shall not speak of this matter to her," she said, moving close +to him upon the log and putting her hand upon his arm coaxingly. +"Promise me you will not." + +He would have promised to stop breathing had she asked it in that mood. +It was the first he had ever seen of it, and he was pleased, although, +owing to an opaqueness of mind due to his condition, it told him nothing +save that his old-time friend was back again. + +"If you tell her," continued the girl, "she will be angry with me, and I +have had so much trouble of late I can't bear any more." + +At last she was on the straight road bowling along like a mail coach. +"After I spoke to you as I did the other night--you know, when Tom--I +could not eat or sleep. Oh, I was in so much trouble! You and I had +always been such real friends, and you have always been so good to me--" +a rare little lump was rapidly and alarmingly growing in her throat--"I +have never had even an unkind look from you, and to speak to you as I +did,--oh, Dic,--" the lump grew too large for easy utterance, and she +stopped speaking. Dic was wise in not pursuing the ebb, but he was +foolish in not catching the flood. But perhaps if he would wait, it +might ingulf him of its own accord, and then, ah, then, the sweetness of +it! + +"Never think of it again," he said soothingly. "Your words hurt me at +the time, but your kind, frank letter cured the pain, and I intended +never to speak of it. But since you have spoken, I--I--" + +The girl was frightened, although eager to hear what he would say, so +she remained silent during Dic's long pause, and at length he said, "I +thank you for the letter." + +A sigh of mingled relief and disappointment came from her breast. + +"It gave me great pleasure, for it made me know that you were still my +friend," said Dic, "and that your words were meant for Tom, and not for +me." + +"Indeed, not for you," said Rita, still struggling with the lump in her +throat. + +"Let us never speak of it again," said Dic. "I'm glad it happened. It +puts our friendship on a firmer basis than ever before." + +"That would be rather hard, to do, wouldn't it?" asked the girl, +laughing contentedly. "We have been such good friends ever since I was a +baby--since before I can remember." + +The direct road was becoming too smooth for Rita, and she began to fear +she would not be able to stop. + +"Let us make this bargain," said Dic. "When you want to say anything +unkind, say it to me. I'll not misunderstand." + +"Very well," she replied laughingly, "the privilege may be a great +comfort to me at times. I, of course, dare not scold mother. If I look +cross at Tom, mother scolds me for a week, and I could not speak +unkindly to poor father. You see, I have no one to scold, and I'm sure +every one should have somebody to explode upon with impunity now and +then. So I'll accept your offer, and you may expect--" There was a brief +pause, after which she continued: "No, I'll not. Never again so long as +I live. You, of all others, shall be safe from my ill temper," and she +gave him her hand in confirmation of her words. + +In all the world there was no breast freer from ill temper than hers; no +heart more gentle, tender, and trustful. Her nature was like a burning +spring. It was pure, cool, and limpid to its greatest depths, though +there was fire in it. + +Dic did not consider himself obliged to release Rita's hand at once, and +as she evidently thought it would be impolite to withdraw it, there is +no telling what mistakes might have happened had not Tom appeared upon +the scene. + +Tom seated himself beside Dic just as that young man dropped Rita's +hand, and just as the young lady moved a little way toward her end of +the log. + +"You are home early," remarked Rita. + +"Yes," responded Tom, "Doug Hill was there--the lubberly pumpkin-head." + +No man of honor would remain in a young lady's parlor if at the time of +his arrival she had another gentleman visitor unless upon the request of +the young lady, and no insult so deep and deadly could be offered to the +man in possession as the proffer of such a request by the young lady to +the intruder. + +After a few minutes of silence Tom remarked: "This night reminds me of +the night I come from Cincinnati to Brookville on the canal-boat. +Everything's so warm and clear like. I set out on top of the boat and +seed the hills go by." + +"Did the hills go by?" asked Rita, who had heard the story of Tom's +Cincinnati trip many times. + +"Well, they seemed to go by," answered Tom. "Of course, they didn't +move. It was the boat. But I jest seed them move as plain as I see that +cloud up yonder." + +That Tom had not profited by Billy Little's training and his mother's +mild corrections now and then (for the Chief Justice had never entirely +lost the habits of better days), was easily discernible in his speech. +Rita's English, like Dic's and Billy Little's, was corrupted in spots by +evil communication; but Tom's--well, Tom was no small part of the evil +communication itself. + +Dic had heard the Cincinnati story many times, and when he saw symptoms +of its recurrence, he rose and said:-- + +"Well, Tom, if you _seed_ the hills go by, you'll _seed_ me go by if you +watch, for I'm going home," and with a good night he started up the +river path, leaving Rita and her brother Tom seated on the log. + +"So Doug Hill was there?" asked Rita. + +"Yes," responded Tom; "and how any girl can let him kiss her, I don't +know. His big yaller face reminds me of the under side of a mud-turtle." + +"I hope Sukey doesn't allow him nor any one else to kiss her," cried +Rita, with a touch of indignant remonstrance. Tom laughed as if to say +that he could name at least one who enjoyed that pleasant privilege. + +Rita was at that time only sixteen years old, and had many things to +learn about the doings of her neighbors, which one would wish she might +never know. The Chief Justice had at least one virtue: she knew how to +protect her daughter. No young man had ever been permitted to "keep +company" with Rita, and she and her mother wanted none. Dic, of course, +had for years been a constant visitor; but he, as you know, was like one +of the family. Aside from the habit of Dic's visits, and growing out of +them, Madam Bays had dim outlines of a future purpose. Dic's father, who +was dead, had been considered well-to-do among his neighbors. He had +died seized of four "eighties," all paid for, and two-thirds cleared for +cultivation. Eighty acres of cleared bottom land was looked upon as a +fair farm. One might own a thousand acres of rich soil covered with as +fine oak, walnut, and poplar as the world could produce and might still +be a poor man, though the timber in these latter days would bring a +fortune. Cleared land was wealth at the time of which I write, and in +building their houses the settlers used woods from which nowadays +furniture is made for royal palaces. Every man on Blue might have said +with Louis XIV, "I am housed like a king." Cleared land was wealth, and +Dic, upon his mother's death, would at least be well able to support a +wife. The Chief Justice knew but one cause for tenderness--Tom. When +Rita was passing into womanhood, and developing a beauty that could not +be matched on all the River Blue, she began to assume a commercial value +in her mother's eyes that might, Madam B. thought in a dimly conscious +fashion, be turned to Tom's account. Should Rita marry a rich man, there +would be no injustice--justice, you know, was the watchword--in leaving +all the Bays estate to the issue male. Therefore, although Mrs. Bays was +not at all ready for her young daughter to receive attention from any +man, when the proper time should come, Dic might be available if no one +better offered, and Tom, dear, sweet, Sir Thomas de Triflin', should +then have all that his father and mother possessed, as soon as they +could with decent self-respect die and get out of his way. + +As time passed, and Rita's beauty grew apace, Mrs. Bays began to feel +that Dic with his four "eighties" was not a price commensurate with the +winsome girl. But having no one else in mind, she permitted his visits +with a full knowledge of their purpose, and hoped that chance or her +confidential friend, Providence, might bring a nobler prize within +range of the truly great attractiveness of Tom's sister. + +Mrs. Bays knew that the life she and her neighbors were leading was poor +and crude. She also knew that men of wealth and position were eagerly +seeking rare girls of Rita's type. By brooding over better things than +Dic could offer, her hope grew into a strong desire, and with Rita's +increasing beauty this motherly desire took the form of faith. Still, +Dic's visits were permitted to continue, and doubtless would be +permitted so long as they should be made ostensibly to the family. + +Tom's remarks upon Sukey and Sukey's observations concerning Dic had +opened Rita's eyes to certain methods prevalent among laddies and +lasses, and as a result Sukey, for the time, became _persona non grata_ +to her old-time friend. Rita was not at the time capable of active +jealousy. She knew Sukey was pretty enough, and, she feared, bold enough +to be dangerous in the matter of Dic, but she trusted him. Sukey +certainly was prettily bedecked with the pinkest and whitest of cheeks, +twinkling dimples, and sparkling eyes; but for real beauty she was not +in Rita's class, and few men would think of her fleshly charms twice +when they might be thinking of our little heroine. + +Thus Tom and Sukey became fountain-heads of unhallowed knowledge upon +subjects concerning which every young girl, however pure, has a +consuming curiosity. + +Rita had heard of the "kissing games" played by the youngsters, and a +few of the oldsters, too, at country frolics, corn-huskings, and church +socials; but as I have told you, the level-headed old Chief Justice had +wisely kept her daughter away from such gatherings, and Rita knew little +of the kissing, and never telling what was going on about her. Tom and +Sukey had thrown light upon the subject for her, and she soon +understood, feared, and abhorred. Would she ever pity and embrace? + + + + +THE DEBUTANTE + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DEBUTANTE + + +A year after the small happenings I have just related, great events +began to cluster about Dic. They were truly great for him and of course +were great for Rita. + +Through Billy Little's aid Dic received an offer from an eastern horse +buyer to lead a drove of horses to New York. The task was difficult, and +required a man of health, strength, judgment, and nerve. The trip going +would require two months, and the horses must be kept together, fed, +cared for, and, above all, protected night and day from horse thieves, +until after the Alleghanies were crossed. The horses were driven loose +in herds of one hundred or more. Three men constituted a crew. In this +instance Dic was to be in charge, and two rough horse-boys would be his +assistants. It would have been impossible to _drive_ the horses over the +fenceless roads and through the leagues of trackless forest; therefore, +they were led. The men would take turns about riding in advance, and the +man leading would continually whistle a single shrill note which the +horses soon learned to follow. Should the whistling cease for a moment, +the horses would stop and perhaps stampede. This might mean forty-eight +hours of constant work in gathering the drove, with perhaps the loss of +one or more. If you will, for one hour, whistle a shrill note loud +enough to reach the ears of a herd of trampling, neighing horses, you +will discover that even that task, which is the smallest part of horse +"leading," is an exhausting operation. + +The work was hard, but the pay was good, and Dic was delighted with the +opportunity. One of its greatest attractions to him was the fact that he +would see something of the world. Billy Little urged him to accept the +offer. + +"A man," said he, "estimates his own stature by comparing it with those +about him, and the most fatal mistake he can make is to underestimate +his size. Self-conceit is ugly, but it never injured any one. Modesty +would have ruined Napoleon himself. The measure of a man, like the +length of a cloth-yard, depends upon the standard. Go away from here, +Dic. Find your true standard. Measure yourself and return, if you wish. +This place is as good as another, if a man knows himself; if he doesn't, +he is apt to be deceived by the littleness of things about him. Yet +there are great things here, too--greater, in some respects, than any to +be found in New York; but the great things here are possibilities. Of +course, possibilities are but the raw material. They must be +manufactured--achieved. But achievement, my boy, achievement! that's the +whole thing, after all. What would Cæsar Germanicus and Napoleon have +been without possibilities? A ready-made opportunity is a good thing in +its way, but it is the creation of opportunity out of crude +possibilities that really marks and makes the man and stamps the deed. +Any hungry fool would seize the opportunity to eat who might starve if +he had to make his bread. Go out into the world. You have good eyes. It +will not take long to open them. When they are opened, come back and you +will see opportunities here that will make you glad you are alive." + +"But, Billy Little," replied Dic, who was sitting with Rita on the +sycamore divan, while their small elderly friend sat upon the grass +facing them, "you certainly have seen the world. Your eyes were opened +before you came here, and it seems to me your learning and culture are +buried here among the possibilities you speak of." + +"No, Dic," answered Billy, "you see, I--well, I ran away from--from many +things. You see, you and I are cast in different moulds. You are six +feet tall, physically and temperamentally." Rita thought Billy was the +most acute observer in Christendom, but she did not speak, save with her +eyes. Those eyes nowadays were always talking. + +"Six feet don't amount to much," responded Dic. "There is Doug Hill, who +is six feet three, with no more brains than a catfish. It is what's at +the top of the six feet that counts. You have more at the top of your +five feet four than the tallest man on Blue, and as I said, you seem to +be buried here. Where are the possibilities for you, Billy Little? And +if you can't achieve something great--poor me!" + +"There are different possibilities for different men. I think, for +example, I have achieved something in you. What say you, Rita?" + +The girl was taken unawares. "Indeed you have, glorious--splendid--that +is, I mean you have achieved something great in all of us whom you have +tried to influence. I see your possibilities, Billy Little. I see them +stamped upon the entire Blue River settlement. La Salle and Marquette, +of whom Dic read to me from your book, had the same sort of +opportunities. Their field was broader, but I doubt if their influence +will be more lasting than yours." + +"Rather more conspicuous," laughed Billy. + +"Yes," answered Rita, "your achievements will not be recorded. Their +effect will probably be felt by all of us, and the achievement must be +your only reward." + +"It is all I ask," returned Billy. Then, after a pause, he spoke in +mock reproof to Dic, "Now, hang your head in shame." + +"I suppose it's my turn," Dic replied. + +"The achievements of picturesque men only should be placarded to the +world," said Billy. "The less said about a little old knot like me the +better for--better for the knot." + +"You are not a knot," cried Rita indignantly. + +"Rita," said Dic, "you know the walnut knot, while it shows the roughest +bark, has the finest grain in the tree." + +"I am going home if you don't stop that sort of talking," said Billy, +pleased to his toes, but pretending to be annoyed. + +A fortnight before Dic's intended departure for New York an opportunity +presented itself of which the young man, after due consideration, +determined to take advantage. He walked over one evening to see Tom, +but, as usual, found Rita. After a few minutes in which to work his +courage up, he said:-- + +"There is to be a church social at Scott's to-morrow night--the +Baptists. I wonder if you would like--that is, would want to--would be +willing to go with me?" + +"I would be glad to go," answered the girl; "but mother won't let me." + +"We'll go in and ask her, if you wish," he replied. + +"There's no use, but we can try. Perhaps if she thinks I don't want to +go, she will consent." + +Into the house they went, and Dic made his wants known to the head of +the family. + +"No," snapped the good lady, "she can't go. Girls of sixteen and +seventeen nowadays think they are young ladies." + +"They are dull, anyway," said Rita, referring to church socials. "I have +heard they are particularly dull at Scott's--the Baptists are so +religious. Sukey Yates said they did nothing but preach and pray and +sing psalms and take up a collection at the last social Scott gave. +It's just like church, and I don't want to go anyway." She had never +been to a church social, but from what she had heard she believed them +to be bacchanalian scenes of riotous enjoyment, and her remarks were +intended to deceive. + +"You should not speak so disrespectfully of the church," said the Chief +Justice, sternly. "The Lord will punish you for it, see if He doesn't. +Since I think about it, the socials held at Scott's are true, religious, +God-fearing gatherings, and you shall go as a punishment for your +sacrilegious sneers. Perhaps if you listen to the Word, it may come back +after many days." Margarita, Sr., often got her Biblical metaphors +mixed, but that troubled her little. There was, she thought, virtue in +scriptural quotations, even though entirely inapplicable to the case in +point. + +"Come for her to-morrow evening, Dic," said Mrs. B. "She shall be +ready." Then turning to Rita: "To speak of the Holy Word in that manner! +You shall be punished." + +Dic and Rita went out to the porch. Dic laughed, but the girl saw +nothing funny. + +"It seems to me just as if I had told a story," she said. "One may act a +story as easily as tell it." + +"Well, you are to be punished," laughed Dic. + +"But you know I want to go. I have never been to a social, and it will +not punish me to go." + +"Then you are to be punished by going with me," returned the stalwart +young fisherman. She looked up to him with a flash of her eyes--those +eyes were worse than a loose tongue for tattling--and said:-- + +"That is true." + +Dic, who was fairly boiling with pleasant anticipations, went to town +next day and boiled over on Billy Little. + +"I'm going to take Rita to Scott's social this evening," he said. + +"Ah, indeed," responded Billy; "it's her first time out, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"I envy her, by George, I do, and I envy you," said Billy. He did not +envy Dic; but you may remember my remarks concerning bachelor hearts and +their unprotected condition in this cruel world. There may be pain of +the sort Billy felt without either envy or jealousy. + +"Dic, I have a mind to send Rita a nice ribbon or two for to-night. What +do you think about it?" asked Billy. + +"She would be delighted," answered Dic. "She would accept them from you, +but not from me." + +"There is no flattery in that remark," answered Billy, with a touch of +sharpness. + +"Why, Billy Little, what do you suppose I meant?" asked Dic. + +"I know you spoke the truth. She would accept a present from the little +old knot, but would refuse it from the straight young tree." + +"Why, Billy Little, I meant nothing of the sort." + +"Now, not another word," interrupted Billy. "Give these ribbons to her +when you ride home, and tell her the knot sends them to the sweetbrier." +Then turning his face to the shelves on the wall, and arranging a few +pieces of goods, he hummed under his breath his favorite stanza, +"Maxwelton's braes," and paid no further attention to his guest. + +Rita came out as Dic rode up to the gate. He did not dismount, but +handed her the ribbons across the fence, saying: "Billy Little sends you +these for to-night. He said they were from the knot to the sweetbrier." + +The girl's suppressed delight had been troubling her all day. Her first +party, her first escort, and that escort Dic! What more could a girl +desire? The ribbons were too much. And somebody was almost ready to weep +for joy. She opened the little package and her eyes sparkled. When she +felt that speech was entirely safe, she said:-- + +"The little package is as prim and neat as Billy Little himself. Dear, +sweet, old Billy Little." + +Dic, whose heart was painfully inflamed, was almost jealous of Billy, +and said:-- + +"I suppose you would not have accepted them from me?" + +"Why not?" she responded. "Of course I would." Her eyes grew wide when +she looked up to him and continued, "Did you get them for me and tell me +that Billy Little sent them?" + +"No," answered Dic, regretfully, as he began to see possibilities, even +on Blue. One possibility, at least, he saw clearly--one that he had +lost. + +"It was more than a possibility," he said to himself, as he rode +homeward. "It was a ready-made opportunity, and I did not see it. The +sooner I go to New York or some place else and get my eyes opened, the +better it will be for me." + + * * * * * + +The church social opened with a long, sonorous prayer by the Baptist +preacher, Mr. Wetmore. Then followed a psalm, which in turn was followed +by a "few words." After the few words, Rev. Wetmore said in soft, +conciliatory tones, "Now, brethren, if Deacon Moore will be so kind as +to pass the hat, we will receive the offering." + +Wetmore was not an ordained minister, nor was he recognized by the +church to which he claimed to belong. He was one of the many itinerant +vagabonds who foisted themselves upon isolated communities solely for +the sake of the "offering." + +Deacon Moore passed his hat, and when he handed it to Wetmore that +worthy soul counted out two large copper pennies. There were also in the +hat two brass buttons which Tom, much to Sukey's amusement, had torn +from his clothing for the purpose of an offering. Sukey laughed so +inordinately at Tom's extravagant philanthropy that she convinced De +Triflin' he was a very funny fellow indeed; but she brought upon her +pretty flaxen head a reprimand from Wetmore. + +"Undue levity," said he, "ill becomes even frivolous youth at this +moment. Later you will have ample opportunity to indulge your mirth; but +for the present, the Lord's business--" at the word "business" he +received the hat from Deacon Moore, and looked eagerly into it for the +offering. Disappointment, quite naturally, spread itself over his sallow +face, and he continued: "Buttons do not constitute an acceptable +offering to the Lord. He can have no use for them. I think that during +the course of my life work in the vineyard I have received a million +buttons of which I--I mean the Lord--can have no possible use. If these +buttons had been dollars or shillings, or even pennies, think of the +blessings they would have brought from above." + +The reverend man spoke several times with excusable asperity of +"buttons," and after another psalm and a sounding benediction the +religious exercises were finished, and the real business of the evening, +the spelling-bee and the kissing games, began. + +At these socials many of the old folks took part in the spelling-bee, +after which they usually went home--an event eagerly awaited by the +young people. + +There was but one incident in the spelling-bee that touched our friends, +and I shall pass briefly over that part of the entertainment preceding +it. The class, ranging in years from those who lisped in youth to those +who lisped in age, stood in line against the wall, and Wetmore, +spelling-book in hand, stood in front of them to "give out" the words. +It was not considered fair to give out a word not in the spelling-book +until the spelling and "syllabling" of sentences was commenced. All +words were syllabled, but to spell and syllable a sentence was not an +easy task, and by the time sentences were reached the class usually had +dwindled down to three or four of the best spellers. Of course, one who +missed a word left the class. Our friends--Billy Little, Dic, Rita, and +Sukey Yates--were in the contest. + +The first word given out was metropolitan, and it fell to Douglas of the +Hill. He began: "M-e-t--there's your met; r-o--there's your ro; there's +your metro; p-o-l--there's your pol; there's your ro-pol; there's your +met-ro-pol; i--there's your i; there's your pol-i; there's your +ro-pol-i; there's your met-ro-pol-i; t-e-n--there's your--" "t-a-n," +cried the girl next to him, who happened to be Sukey Yates, and Douglas +stepped down and out. + +A score or more of words were then spelled without an error, until +Constantinople fell to the lot of an elderly man who stood by Rita. He +began: "C-o-n--there's your Con; s-t-a-n--there's your stan; there's +your Con-stan; t-i--there's your ti; there's your stan-ti; there's your +Con-stan-ti; n-o--there's your no; there's your ti-no; there's your +stan-ti-no; there's your Con-stan-ti-no; p-e-l--there's your pell; +there's your no--"--"p-l-e--there's your pell" (so pronounced); "there's +your Con-stan-ti-no-ple," chimed Rita, and her elderly neighbor took a +chair. Others of the class dropped out, leaving only our four +acquaintances,--Dic, Billy, Sukey, and Rita. Dic went out on "a" in +place of "i" in collectible, Sukey turning him down. Rita had hoped he +would win the contest and had determined, should it narrow down to +herself and him, to miss intentionally, if need be. After Dic had taken +a chair, judgment fell to and upon Sukey. She began "j-u-d-g-e--there's +your judge;" whereupon Billy Little said, "Sink the e," and Sukey sank, +leaving Billy Little and Rita standing against the wall, as if they were +about to be married. Billy, of course, was only awaiting a good +opportunity to fail in order that the laurels of victory might rest upon +Rita's brow. + +"We will now spell and syllable a few sentences," said Wetmore. "Mr. +Little, I give you the sentence, 'An abominable bumblebee with his tail +cut off.'" + +It must be remembered that in spelling these words and sentences each +syllable was pronounced separately and roundly. B-o-m was a full grown, +sonorous bom. B-u-m was a rolling bum, and b-l-e was pronounced bell +with a strong, full, ringing, liquid sound. The following italics show +the emphasis. Billy slowly repeated the sentence and began:-- + +"A-n--there's your an; a--there's your a; there's your an-a; +b-o-m--there's your _bom_; there's your _a_-bom; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_; i--there's your i; there's your _bom_-i; there's your +_a_-bom-i; there's your _an_-a-bom-i; n-a--there's your na; there's your +_i_-na; there's your _bom_-i-na; there's your _a_-bom-i-_na_; there's +your _an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_; b-l-e--there's your bell; there's your +_na_-bell; there's your _i_-na-bell; there's your _bom_-i-_na_-bell; +there's your _a_-bom-i-_na_-bell; there's your _an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell; +b-u-m--there's your bum; there's your _bell_-bum; there's your +_na_-bell-bum; there's your _i_-na-_bell_-bum; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_; there's your _a_-bom-i-_na_-_bell_-_bum_; +there's your _an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_; b-l-e--there's your bell; +there's your _bum_-bell; there's your _bell_-bum-_bell_; there's your +_na_-bell-_bum_-bell; there's your _i_-na-bell-_bum_-bell; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell; b-e-e--there's your bee; there's +your _bell_-bee; there's your _bum_-bell-bee; there's your +_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee; there's your _na_-bell-_bum_-_bell_-bee; there's +your _i_-na-bell-_bum_-bell-bee; there's your +_bom_-i-na-_bell_-_bum_-bell-bee; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee; there's your_an_-a-bom-i-_na_ +bell-_bum_-_bell_-bee; w-i-t-h--h-i-s--there's your with-his; there's +your _bee_-with-his; there's your _bell_-bee-with-his; there's your +_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; there's your _bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his; +there's your _na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +_i_-na-_bell_-_bum_-bell-_bee_-with-his; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +_a_-_bom_-i-na-_bell_-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; t-a-l-e--there's +your--" But Rita chimed in at once: "T-a-i-l--there's your tail; there's +your _with_-his-tail; there's your _bee_-with-his-tail; there's your +_bell_-bee-with-his-_tail_; there's your _bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail; +there's your _bell_-bum-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_i_-na-_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_bom_-i-na-_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail; c-u-t--there's +your cut; there's your _tail_-cut; there's your _with_-his-tail-cut; +there's your _bee_-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_bum_-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_i_-na-_bell_-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-_tail_-cut; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-_bee_-with-his -_tail_-cut; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-_bell_-bum -_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-_cut_; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_ -i-_na_-bell-_bum_-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut; +o-f-f--there's your off; there's your _cut_-off; there's your +_tail_-cut-off; there's your _with_-_his_-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bee_-with -his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bum_-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_i_-na-_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with his-tail-cut-_off_," and +Rita took her seat, filled with triumph, save for the one regret that +Dic had not won. + +Many of the old folks, including Billy Little, departed when the bee +closed, and a general clamor went up for the kissing games to begin. + +Rita declined to take part in the kissing games, and sat against the +wall with several other young ladies who had no partners. To Dic she +gave the candid reason that she did not want to play, and he was glad. + +Doug Hill, who, in common with every other young man on the premises, +ardently desired Rita's presence in the game, said:-- + +"Oh, come in, Rita. Don't be so stuck up. It won't hurt you to be +kissed." Doug was a bold, devil-may-care youth, who spoke his mind +freely upon all occasions. He was of enormous size, and gloried in the +fact that he was the neighborhood bully and very, very "tough." Doug +would have you know that Doug would drink; Doug would gamble; Doug would +fight. He tried to create the impression that he was very bad indeed, +and succeeded. He would go to town Saturdays, "fill up," as he called +getting drunk, and would ride furiously miles out of his way going home +that he might pass the houses of his many lady-loves, and show them by +yells and oaths what a rollicking blade he was. The reputation thus +acquired won him many a smile; for, deplore the fact as we may, there's +a drop of savage blood still alive in the feminine heart that does not +despise depravity in man as it really should. + +"Come into the game," cried Doug, taking Rita by the arm, and dragging +her toward the centre of the room. + +"I don't want to play," cried the girl. "Please let loose of my arms; +you hurt me," but Doug continued to drag her toward the ring of players +that was forming, and she continued to resist. Doug persisted, and after +a moment of struggling she called out, "Dic, Dic!" She had been +accustomed since childhood to call upon that name in time of trouble, +and had always found help. Dic would not have interfered had not Rita +called, but when she did he responded at once. + +"Let her alone, Hill," said Dic, as pleasantly as possible under the +circumstances. "If she doesn't want to play, she doesn't have to." + +"You go to--" cried Doug. "Maybe you think you can run over me, you +stuck-up Mr. Proper." + +"I don't want to do anything of the sort," answered Dic; "but if you +don't let loose of Rita's arm, I'll--" + +"What will you do?" asked Doug, laughing uproariously. + +For a moment Dic allowed himself to grow angry, and said, "I'll knock +that pumpkin off your shoulders," but at once regretted his words. + +Doug thought Dic's remark very funny, and intimated as much. Then he +bowed his head in front of our hero and said, "Here is the pumpkin; hit +it if you dare." + +Dic restrained an ardent desire, and Doug still with bowed head +continued, "I'll give you a shillin' if you'll hit it, and if you don't, +I'll break your stuck-up face." + +Dic did not accept the shilling, which was not actually tendered in +lawful coin, but stepped back from Doug that he might be prepared for +the attack he expected. After waiting what he considered to be a +reasonable time for Dic to accept his offer, Doug started toward our +hero, looking very ugly and savage. Dic was strong and brave, but he +seemed small beside his bulky antagonist, and Rita, frightened out of +all sense of propriety, ran to her champion, and placing her back +against his breast, faced Doug with fear and trembling. The girl was not +tall enough by many inches to protect Dic's face from the breaking Doug +had threatened; but what she lacked in height she made up in terror, +and she looked so "skeert," as Doug afterwards said, that he turned upon +his heel with the remark:-- + +"That's all right. I was only joking. We don't want no fight at a church +social, do we, Dic?" + +"I don't particularly want to fight any place," replied Dic, glad that +the ugly situation had taken a pleasant turn. + +"Reckon you don't," returned Doug, uproariously, and the game proceeded. + +Partly from disinclination, and partly because he wanted to talk to +Rita, Dic did not at first enter the game, but during an intermission +Sukey whispered to him:-- + +"We are going to play Drop the Handkerchief, and if you'll come in I'll +drop it behind you every time, and--" here the whispers became very low +and soft, "I'll let you catch me, too. We'll make pumpkin-head sick." + +The game of skill known as "Drop the Handkerchief" was played in this +fashion: a circle of boys and girls was formed in the centre of the +room, each person facing the centre. One of the number was chosen "It." +"It's" function was to walk or run around the circle and drop the +handkerchief behind the chosen one. If "It" happened to be a young man, +the chosen one, of course, was a young woman who immediately started in +pursuit. If she caught the young man before he could run around the +circle to the place she had vacated, he must deposit a forfeit, to be +redeemed later in the evening. In any case she became the next "It." A +young lady "It" of course dropped the handkerchief behind a young man, +and equally, of course, started with a scream of frightened modesty +around the circle of players, endeavoring to reach, if possible, the +place of sanctuary left vacant by the young man. He started in pursuit, +and if he caught her--there we draw the veil. If the young lady were +anxious to escape, it was often possible for her to do so. But thanks to +Providence, all hearts were not so obdurate as Rita's. I would say, +however, in palliation of the infrequency of escapes, that it was looked +upon as a serious affront for a young lady to run too rapidly. In case +she were caught and refused to pay the forfeit, her act was one of +deadly insult gratuitously offered in full view of friends and +acquaintances. + +Dic hesitated to accept Sukey's invitation, though, in truth, it would +have been inviting to any man of spirit. Please do not understand me to +say that Dic was a second Joseph, nor that he was one who would run away +from a game of any sort because a pretty Miss Potiphar or two happened +to be of the charmed and charming circle. + +He had often been in the games, and no one had ever impugned his spirit +of gallantry by accusing him of unseemly neglect of the beautiful Misses +P. His absence from this particular game was largely due to the fact +that the right Miss Potiphar was sitting against the wall. + +A flush came to Rita's cheek, and she moved uneasily when she saw Sukey +whispering to Dic; but he did not suspect that Rita cared a straw what +Sukey said. Neither did it occur to him that Rita would wish him to +remain out of the game. He could, if he entered the game, make Doug Hill +"sick," as Sukey had suggested, and that was a consummation devoutly to +be wished. He did not wish to subject himself to the charge of +ungallantry; and Sukey was, as you already know, fair to look upon, and +her offer was as generous as she could make under the circumstances. So +he chose a young lady, left Rita by the wall, and entered the game. + +Doug Hill happened to be "It" and dropped the handkerchief behind Sukey, +whereupon that young lady walked leisurely around the circle, making no +effort to capture the Redoubtable. Such apathy was not only an +infringement of the etiquette of the game, but might, if the injured +party were one of high spirits, be looked upon as an insult. + +Sukey then became "It," and, dropping the handkerchief behind Dic, +deliberately waited for him to catch her; when, of course, a catastrophe +ensued. Meantime, the wall was growing uncomfortable to Rita. She had +known in a dimly conscious way that certain things always happened at +country frolics, but to _see_ them startled her, and she began to feel +very miserable. Her tender heart fluttered piteously with a hundred +longings, chief among which was the desire to prevent further +catastrophes between Dic and Sukey. + +Compared to Sukey, there was no girl in the circle at all entitled to be +ranked in the Potiphar class of beauty. So, when Dic succeeded Sukey as +"It," he dropped the handkerchief behind her. Then she again chose Dic, +and in turn became the central figure in a catastrophe that was painful +to the girl by the wall. If Rita had been in ignorance of her real +sentiments for Dic, that ignorance had, within the last few minutes, +given place to a knowledge so luminous that it was almost blinding. The +room seemed to become intensely warm. Meantime the play went on, and the +process of making Doug "sick" continued with marked success. Sukey +always favored Dic, and he returned in kind. This alternation, which was +beyond all precedent, soon aroused a storm of protests. + +"If you want to play by yourselves," cried Tom, "why don't you go off by +yourselves?" + +"Yes," cried the others; "if you can't play fair, get out of the game." + +The order of events was immediately changed, but occasionally Sukey +broke away from time-honored precedent and repeated her favors to Dic. +Doug was rapidly growing as "sick" as his most inveterate enemy could +have desired. There was another person in the room who was also very +wretched--one whom Dic would not have pained for all the Sukey +Potiphars in Egypt. The other person was not only pained, she was +grieved, confused, frightened, desperate. She feared that she would cry +out and ask Dic not to favor Sukey. She did not know what to do, nor +what she might be led to do, if matters continued on their present +course. + +Soon after Tom's reprimand, Sukey found the duty of dropping the +handkerchief again devolving upon her pretty self. She longed with all +her heart to drop it behind Dic; but, fearing the wrath of her friends, +she concluded to choose the man least apt to arouse antagonism in Dic's +breast. She would choose one whom he knew she despised, and would trust +to luck and her swift little feet to take her around the circle before +the dropee could catch her. + +Wetmore had been an active member, though a passive participant, in the +game, since its beginning. When a young lady "It" walked back of him, he +would eagerly watch her approach, and when she passed him, as all did, +he would turn his face after her and hope for better things from the +next. Repeated disappointments had lulled his vigil, and when Sukey, the +girl of all others for whom he had not hoped, dropped the sacred linen +behind his reverend form, he was so startled that he did not seize the +precious moment. He was standing beside Doug Hill, and the handkerchief +fell almost between the two. It was clearly intended for his reverence; +but when he failed instantly to meet the requirements of the situation, +the Douglas, most alert of men, resolved to appropriate the opportunity +to himself. At the same moment Brother W. also determined to embrace it, +and, if possible, "It." Each stooped at the same instant, and their +heads collided. + +"Let it alone, parson, it's for me," cried the Douglas. + +Parson did not answer, but reached out his hand for the coveted prize. +Thereupon Douglas pushed him backward, causing him to be seated with +great violence upon the floor. At that unfortunate moment Sukey, who had +taken speed from eagerness, completed her trip around the circle, and +being unable to stop, fell headlong over the figure of the self-made +parson. She had not seen Doug's part in the transaction, and being much +disturbed in mind and dress, turned upon poor Wetmore and flung at the +worthy shepherd the opprobrious words, "You fool." + +When we consider the buttons in the offering, together with Sukey's +unjust and biting words, we cannot help believing that Wetmore had been +born under an unlucky star. + +One's partner in this game was supposed to favor one now and then, when +opportunity presented; but Wetmore's partner, Miss Tompkinson, having +waited in vain for favors from that gentleman, quitted the game when +Sukey called him, "You fool." Wetmore thought, of course, he also would +be compelled to drop out; but, wonder of wonders, Rita, the most +beautiful girl in the room, rose to her feet and said:-- + +"I'll take your place, Miss Tompkinson." She knew that if she were in +the game, Sukey's reign would end, and she had reached the point of +perturbation where she was willing to do anything to prevent the +recurrence of certain painful happenings. She knew that she should not +take part in the game,--it was not for such as her,--but she was +confused, desperate, and "didn't care." She modestly knew her own +attractions. Every young man in the circle was a friend of Tom's, and +had at some time manifested a desire to be a friend to Tom's sister. Tom +was fairly popular for his own sake, but his exceeding radiance was +borrowed. The game could not be very wicked, thought Rita, since it was +encouraged by the church; but even if it were wicked, she determined to +take possession of her own in the person of Dic. Out of these several +impulses and against her will came the words, "I'll take your place, +Miss Tompkinson," and almost before she was aware of what she had done +she was standing with fiercely throbbing pulse, a member of the +forbidden circle. + +[Illustration: "SHE FLUNG AT THE WORTHY SHEPHERD THE OPPROBRIOUS WORDS, +'YOU FOOL.'"] + +As Rita had expected, the handkerchief soon fell behind her, and without +the least trouble she caught the young fellow who had dropped it, for +the man did not live who could run from her. The pledge, a pocket-knife, +was deposited, and Rita became a trembling, terrified "It." What to do +with the handkerchief she did not know, but she started desperately +around the circle. After the fourth or fifth trip the players began to +laugh. Dic's heart was doing a tremendous business, and he felt that +life would be worthless if the handkerchief should fall from Rita's hand +behind any one but him. Meanwhile the frightened girl walked round and +round the circle, growing more confused with every trip. + +"Drop it, Rita," cried Doug Hill, "or you'll drop." + +"She's getting tired," said another. + +"See how warm she is," remarked gentle Tom. + +"Somebody fan her," whispered Sukey. + +"I don't believe I want to play," said Rita, whose cheeks were burning. +A chorus of protests came from all save Dic; so she took up her burden +again and of course must drop it. After another long weary walk an +inspiration came to her; she would drop the handkerchief behind Tom. She +did so. Tom laughed, and all agreed with one accord that it was against +the rules of the game to drop the handkerchief behind a brother or +sister. Then Rita again took up her burden, which by that time was a +heavy one indeed. She had always taken her burdens to Dic, so she took +this one to him and dropped it. + +"I knew she would," screamed every one, and Rita started in dreadful +earnest on her last fatal trip around the circle. A moment before the +circle had been too small, but now it seemed interminable, and poor +Rita found herself in Dic's strong arms before she was halfway home. She +almost hated him for catching her. She did not take into consideration +the facts that she had invited him and that it would have been ungallant +had he permitted her to escape, but above all, she did not know the +desire in his heart. She had surprised and disappointed him by entering +the game; but since it was permitted, he would profit by the surprise +and snatch a joyful moment from his disappointment. But another surprise +awaited him. When a young lady was caught a certain degree of +resistance, purely for form's sake, was expected, but usually the young +lady would feel aggrieved, or would laugh at the young man were the +resistance taken seriously. When Dic caught Rita there was one case, at +least, where the resistance was frantically real. She covered her face +with her hands and supposed he would make no effort to remove them. She +was mistaken, he acted upon the accepted theories of the game. She was a +baby in strength compared with Dic, and he easily held her hands while +he bent her head backward till her upturned face was within easy reach. + +"Don't kiss me," she cried. + +There was no sham in her words, and Dic, recognizing the fact, released +her at once and she walked sullenly to a chair. According to the rude +etiquette of the time, she had insulted him. + +There had been so many upheavals in the game that the trouble between +Dic and Rita brought it to a close. + +Dic was wounded, and poor Rita felt that now she had driven him from her +forever. Her eyes followed him about the room with wistful longing, and +although they were eloquent enough to have told their piteous little +story to one who knew anything about the language of great tender eyes, +they spoke nothing but reproachfulness to Dic. He did not go near her, +but after a time she went to him and said:-- + +"I believe I will go home; but I am not afraid to go alone, and you need +not go with me--that is, if you don't want to." + +"I do want to go with you," he responded. "I would not let you ride by +yourself. Even should nothing harm you, the howling of a wolf would +frighten you almost to death." + +She had no intention of riding home alone. She knew she would die from +fright before she had ridden a hundred yards into the black forest, so +she said demurely:-- + +"Of course, if you will go with me after--" + +"I would go with you after anything," he answered, but she thought he +spoke with a touch of anger. + +Had Dic ever hoped to gain more than a warm friendship from the girl +that hope had been shattered for all time, and never, never, never would +he obtrude his love upon her again. As a matter of fact, he had not +obtruded it upon her even once, but he had thought of doing it so many +times that he felt as if he had long been an importunate suitor. + + + + +UNDER THE ELM CANOPY + +CHAPTER V + +UNDER THE ELM CANOPY + + +Dic and Rita rode home through the forest in silence. His anger soon +evaporated, and he was glad she had refused to pay the forfeit. He would +be content with the friendship that had been his since childhood, and +would never again risk losing it. What right had he, a great, uncouth +"clodhopper," to expect even friendship from so beautiful and perfect a +creature as the girl who rode beside him; and, taking it all in all, the +fault, thought he, lay entirely at his door. In this sombre mood he +resolved that he would remain unmarried all his life, and would be +content with the incompleted sweet of loving. He would put a guard upon +himself, his acts, his words, his passion. The latter was truly as noble +and pure as man ever felt for woman, but it should not be allowed to +estrange his friend. She should never know it; no, never, never, never. + +Rita's cogitations were also along the wrong track. During her silent +ride homeward the girl was thinking with an earnestness and a rapidity +that had never before been developed in her brain. She was, at times, +almost unconscious that Dic was riding beside her, but she was vividly +conscious of the fact that she would soon be home and that he also would +be there. She determined to do something before parting from him to make +amends for her conduct at the social. But what should she do? Hence the +earnest and rapid intellection within the drooping head. She did not +regret having refused to kiss Dic. She would, under like circumstances, +again act in the same manner. She regretted the circumstances. To her, a +kiss should be a holy, sacred thing, and in her heart she longed for the +time when it would be her duty and her privilege to give her lips to the +one man. But kissing games seemed to her little less than open and +public shame. + +She could not, for obvious reasons, tell Dic she was sorry she had +refused him, and she certainly would not mend matters by telling him she +was glad. Still less could she permit him to leave her in his present +state of mind. All together it was a terrible dilemma. If she could for +only one moment have a man's privilege to speak, she thought, it would +all be very simple. But she could not speak. She could do little more +than look, and although she could do that well, she knew from experience +that the language of her eyes was a foreign tongue to Dic. + +When they reached home, Dic lifted Rita from her saddle and stabled her +horse. When he came from the barn she was holding his horse and waiting +for him. He took the rein from her hands, saying:-- + +"It seems almost a pity to waste such a night as this in the house. I +believe one might read by the light of the moon." + +"Yes," murmured the girl, hanging her head, while she meditatively +smoothed the grass with her foot. + +"It's neither warm nor cold--just pleasant," continued Dic. + +"No," she responded very softly. + +"But we must sleep," he ventured to assert. + +She would not contradict the statement. She was silent. + +"If the days could be like this night, work would be a pleasure," +observed Dic, desperately. + +"No," came the reply, hardly louder than a breath. She was not thinking +of the weather, but Dic stuck faithfully to the blessed topic. + +"It may rain soon," he remarked confusedly. There was not a cloud in +sight. + +"Yes," breathed the pretty figure, smoothing the grass with her foot. + +"But--but, I rather think it will not," he said. + +The girl was silent. She didn't care if it snowed. She longed for him to +drop the subject of the weather and to say something that would give her +an opportunity to speak. Her manner, however, was most unassuring, and +convinced Dic that he had offended beyond forgiveness, while his +distant, respectful formality and persistency in the matter of the +weather almost convinced the girl that he was lost to her forever. Thus +they stood before each other, as many others have done, a pair of +helpless fools within easy reach of paradise. Dic's straightforward +habits of thought and action came to his aid, however, and he determined +to make at least one more effort to regain the girl's friendly regard. +He abandoned the weather and said somewhat abruptly:-- + +"Rita, if I offended you to-night, I am sorry. I cannot tell you all the +pain I feel. When you dropped the handkerchief behind me, I thought--I +know I was wrong and should have known better at the time--but I +thought--" + +"Oh, Dic," she softly interrupted, still smoothing the grass with her +foot, "I am not offended; it is you." + +Had the serene yellow moon burst into a thousand blazing suns, Dic could +not have been more surprised. + +"Rita, do you mean it? Do you really mean it?" he asked. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"And were you afraid I was offended?" + +"Yes," again very softly. + +"And did you care?" + +"Yes," with an emphatic nod of the head. + +"And do you--" he paused, and she hesitatingly whispered:-- + +"Yes." She did not know what his question would have been; but whatever +he wished to ask, "Yes" would be her answer, so she gave it, and Dic +continued:-- + +"Do you wish me to remain for a few minutes?" + +This time the "Yes" was given by a pronounced drooping of the head, but +she took his hand for an instant that she might not possibly be +misunderstood. + +Dic hitched his horse to the fence, and, turning to Rita, said:-- + +"Shall we go over to the log by the river?" + +"Yes." Ah, how many yeses she had for him that night, and yes is a sweet +word. + +When they were seated on the log the girl waited a reasonable time for +Dic to begin the conversation. He remained silent, and soon she +concluded to take the matter temporarily in her own hands. He had begun +a moment before, but had stopped; perhaps with a little help he would +begin again. + +"I was sure you were angry," she said, "and I thought you would not +forgive me this time. I have so often given you cause to dislike me." + +"Oh, Rita, I don't believe you know that you could not make me dislike +you. When I thought that--that you did not care for me, I was so grieved +that life seemed almost worthless, but I love you so dearly, Rita--" but +that was just what he had determined never, never to tell her. He +stopped midway in his unintentional confession, surprised that the girl +did not indignantly leave him. Her heart beat wofully. Breathing +suddenly became harder work than churning. She sat demurely by his side +on the log, only too willing to listen, with a dictionary full of +"Yeses" on the end of her tongue, and he sat beside her, unable for the +moment to think. After a long pause she determined to give him a fresh +start. + +"I was in the wrong, Dic, and if you wish I'll apologize to you before +all who saw me. But I was frightened. I should not have gone into the +game. It may be right for other girls--I would not say that it is not +right--but for me, I know it would be a sin--a real sin. I am not wise, +but, Dic, something tells me that certain things cannot occupy a middle +ground. They must be holy and sacred, or they are sinful, and I--I did +not want it to--to happen then, because--because--" there she stopped +speaking. She had unintentionally used the word "then," with slight +emphasis; but slight as it was, it sent Dic's soul soaring heavenward, +buoyant with ecstasy. + +"Why, Rita, why did you not want it to happen--" he feared to say +"then," and it would seem from the new position of his arm, he also +feared she might fall backward off the log. + +"Because--because," came in soft whispers. The beautiful head was +drooped, and the face was hidden from even the birds and the moon, while +Dic's disengaged hand, out of an abundance of caution lest she might +fall, clasped hers. + +"Because--why, Rita?" he pleaded. + +Softly came the response, "Because I wanted to be alone with--with--you +when it--it happened." It happened before she had finished her sentence, +but when it was finished the head lay upon his shoulder, and the birds, +should they awaken, or the moon, or any one else, might see for aught +she cared. It was holy and sacred now, and she felt no shame: she was +proud. The transfer of herself had been made. She belonged to him, and +he, of course, must do with his own property as he saw fit. It was no +longer any affair of hers. + +The victory of complete surrender is sometimes all-conquering; at any +rate, Dic was subjugated for life. His situation was one that would be +hard to improve upon in the way of mere earthly bliss. Heaven may +furnish something better, and if it does, the wicked certainly have no +conception of what they are going to miss. Tom, for example, would never +have put buttons in the offering. Doug would not gamble and drink. Poor, +painted Nanon would starve rather than sin. Old man Jones, in the amen +corner, would not swindle his neighbor; nor would Wetmore, the Baptist, +practise the holy calling of shepherd, having in his breast the heart of +a wolf. We all, saving a woman here and there, have our sins, little and +great, and many times in the day we put in jeopardy that future bliss. +But I console myself with the hope that there is as much forgiveness in +heaven as there is sin on earth, save for the hypocrite. There may be +forgiveness even for him, but I trust not. + +I have done this bit of philosophizing that I might give Dic and Rita a +moment to themselves on the sycamore divan. You may have known the time +in your life when you were thankful for the sight of a dear friend's +back. + +There was little said between our happy couple for many minutes after +the explosion; but like a certain lady, who long ago resided for a time +in a beautiful garden, the girl soon began to tempt the man: not to eat +apples, for Rita was one of the "women here and there" spoken of above. +She was pure and sinless as the light of a star. Her tempting was of +another sort. Had Rita been Eve, there would have been no fall. + +After several efforts to speak, she said, "Now you will not go to New +York, will you?" + +"Why, Rita," he responded confidently, "of course I'll go. There is more +reason now for my going than ever before." + +"Why more now than ever before?" asked the girl. + +"Because I want money that I may support you," he responded. "I'll tell +you a great secret, Rita, but you must promise you will never tell it to +any one." + +"I promise--cross my heart," she answered, and Dic knew that wild horses +could not tear the secret from her girlish breast. + +"I'm studying law," continued Dic. "Billy Little has been buying law +books for me. They are too expensive for me to buy. He bought me +'Blackstone's Commentaries'--four large volumes." The big words tasted +good in his mouth, and were laden with sweetness and wisdom for her +ears. + +"I have read them twice," continued Dic. "He is going to buy 'Kent,' and +after that I'll take up works on pleading and special subjects. He has +consulted Mr. Switzer, and if I can save enough money to keep you and me +for two or three years in idleness, I am to go into Mr. Switzer's office +to learn the practice. It is a great and beautiful study." + +"Oh, it must be, Dic," cried the girl, delightedly. "To think that you +will be a lawyer. I have always known that you would some day be a great +man. Maybe you will be a judge, or a governor, or go to Congress." + +"That is hardly possible," responded Dic, laughing. + +"Indeed it is possible," she responded very seriously. "Anything is +possible for you--even the presidency, and I'll help you. I will not be +a millstone, Dic. I'll help you. We'll work together--and you'll see +I'll help you." + +Accordingly, she began to help him at once by putting her arm coaxingly +over his shoulder, and saying:-- + +"But if you are going to do all this you should not waste your time +leading horses to New York." + +"But you see, Rita," he responded, "I can make a lot of money by going, +and I shall see something of the world, as you heard Billy Little say." + +"Oh, you would rather see the world than me?" queried the girl, drawing +away from him with an injured air, whereupon Dic, of course, vowed that +he would rather see her face than a thousand worlds. + +"Then why don't you stay where you can see it?" she asked poutingly. + +"Because, as I told you, I want to make money so that when I go into Mr. +Switzer's office I can support you--and the others--" He stopped, +surprised by his words. + +"The others? What others?" asked the girl. That was a hard question to +answer, and he undertook it very lamely. + +"You see, Rita," he stammered, "there will be--there might--there may +be--don't you know, Rita?" + +"No, I don't know, Dic. Why are you so mysterious? What +others--who--oh!" And she hid her face upon his breast, while her arms +stole gently about his neck. + +"You see," remarked Dic, speaking softly to the black waves of lustrous +hair, "I must take Iago's advice and put money in my purse. I have +always hoped to be something more than I am. Billy Little, who has been +almost a father to me, has burned the ambition into me. But with all my +yearning, life has never held a real purpose compared with that I now +have in you. The desire for fame, Rita, the throbbing of ambition, the +lust for gold and dominion, are considered by the world to be the great +motives of human action. But, Rita, they are all simply means to one +end. There is but one great purpose in life, and that is furnished to a +man by the woman he loves. Billy Little gave me the thought. It is not +mine. How he knew it, being an old bachelor, I cannot tell." + +"Perhaps Billy Little has had the--the purpose and lost it," said Rita, +being quite naturally in a sentimental mood. + +"I wonder?" mused Dic. + +"Poor, dear old Billy Little," mused Rita. "But you will not go to New +York?" continued Miss Persistency. + +Dic had resolved, upon hearing Rita's first petition concerning the New +York trip, that he would be adamant. His resolution to go was built upon +the rock of expediency. It was best for him, best for Rita, that he +should go, and he had no respect for a poor, weak man who would permit a +woman to coax him from a clearly proper course. She should never coax +him out of doing that which was best for them both. + +"We'll discuss it at another time," he answered evasively, as he tried +to turn her face up toward him. But her face would not be turned, and +while she hid it on his breast she pushed his away, and said:-- + +"No, we'll discuss it now. You must promise me that you will not go. If +you do not, I shall not like you, and you shall not--" She did not +finish the sentence, and Dic asked gently:-- + +"I shall not--what, Rita?" + +"Anything," came the enlightening response from the face hidden on his +breast. "Besides, you will break my heart, and if you go, I'll know you +don't care for me. I'll know you have been deceiving me." Then the face +came up, and the great brown eyes looked pleadingly into his. "Dic, I've +leaned on you so long--ever since I was a child--that I have no strength +of my own; but now that I have given myself up to you, I--I cannot stand +alone, even for a day. If you go away from me now, it will break my +heart. I tell you it will." + +Dic felt her tears upon his hand, and soon he heard soft sobs and felt +their gentle convulsions within her breast. Of course the result was +inevitable; the combatants were so unevenly matched. Woman's tears are +the most potent resolvent know to chemistry. They will dissolve rocks of +resolution, and Dic's resolutions, while big with intent, were small in +flintiness, though he had thought well of them at the time they were +formed. He could not endure the pain inflicted by Rita's tears. He had +not learned how easy and useful tears are to women. They burned him. + +"Please, Rita, please don't cry," he pleaded. + +The tears, while they came readily and without pain, were honest; at any +rate, the girl being so young, they were not deliberately intended to be +useful. They were a part of her instinct of self-preservation. + +"Don't cry, please, Rita. Your tears hurt me." + +"Then promise me you won't go to New York." I fear there is no getting +away entirely from the theory of utility. With evident intent to crowd +the battle upon a wavering foe, the tears came fast and furious. + +"Promise me," sobbed Rita; and I know you will love Dic better when I +tell you that he promised. Then the girl's face came up, and, I grieve +to say, the tears, having served their purpose, ceased at once. + +Next morning Dic went to see Billy Little and told him he had come to +have a talk. Billy locked the store door and the friends repaired to the +river. There they found a shady resting-place, and Billy, lighting his +pipe, said:-- + +"Blaze away." + +"I know you will despise me," the young man began. + +"No, I won't," interrupted Billy. "You are human. I don't look for +unmixed good. If I did, I should not find it except once in a while in a +woman. What have you been doing? Go on." Billy leaned forward on his +elbows, placed the points of his fingers together, and, while waiting +for Dic to begin, hummed his favorite stanza concerning the braes of +Maxwelton. + +"Well," responded Dic, "I've concluded not to go to New York." + +Billy's face turned a shade paler as he took his pipe from his lips and +looked sadly at Dic. After a moment of scrutiny he said:-- + +"I had hoped to get you off before it happened. It's _all_ off now. You +might as well throw Blackstone into Blue." + +"What do you mean?" queried Dic. "Before what happened?" + +"Before Rita happened," responded Billy. + +"Rita?" cried Dic in astonishment. "How did you know?" + +"How do I know that spring follows winter?" asked Billy. "I had hoped +that winter would hold a little longer, and that I might get you off to +New York before spring's arrival." + +"Billy Little, you are talking in riddles," said Dic, pretending not to +understand. "Drop your metaphor and tell me what you mean." + +"You know well enough what I mean, but I'll tell you. I hoped that you +would go to New York before Rita came to you. There would have been +oceans of time after your return. She is very young, not much over +sixteen." + +"But you see, Billy Little, it was this way." + +"Oh, I know all about how it was. She cried and said you didn't care for +her, that you were breaking her heart, and wouldn't let you kiss her +till you gave her your promise. Oh, bless your soul, I know exactly how +it came about. Maxwelton's braes are um, um, um, um, yes, yes." + +"Have you seen Rita?" asked Dic, who could not believe that she would +tell even Billy of the scene on the log. + +"Of course I have not seen her. How could I? It all happened last night +after the social, and it is now only seven A.M." + +"Billy Little, I believe you are a mind reader," said Dic, musingly. + +"No, I'm not," replied Billy, with asperity. "Let's go back to the +store. You've told me all I want to know; but I don't blame you much +after all. You couldn't help it. No man could. But you'll die plowing +corn. Perhaps you'll be happier in a corn field than in a broader one. +Doubtless the best thing one can do is to drift. With all due reverence, +I am almost ready to believe that Providence made a mistake when it +permitted our race to progress beyond the pastoral age. Stick to your +ploughing, Dic. It's good, wholesome exercise, and Rita will furnish +everything else needful to your happiness." + +They walked silently back to the store. Dic, uninvited, entered and sat +down on a box. Billy distributed the morning mail and hummed Maxwelton +Braes. Then he arranged goods on the counter. Dic followed the little +old fellow with his eyes, but neither spoke. The younger man was waiting +for his friend to speak, and the friend was silent because he did not +feel like talking. He loved Dic and Rita with passionate tenderness. He +had almost brought them up from infancy, and all that was best in them +bore the stamp of his personality. Between him and Dic there was a +feeling near akin to that of father and son, but unfortunately Rita was +not a boy. Still more unfortunately the last year had added to her +already great beauty a magnetism that was almost mesmeric in its effect. +There had also been a ripening in the sweet tenderness of her gentle +manner, and if you will remember the bachelor heart of which I have +spoken, you will understand that poor Billy Little couldn't help it at +all, at all. God knows he would have helped it. The fault lay in the +girl's winsomeness; and if Billy's desire to send Dic off to New York +was not an unmixed motive, you must not blame Billy too severely. +Neither must you laugh at him; for he had the heart of a boy, and the +most boyish act in the world is to fall in love. Billy had never +misunderstood Rita's tenderness and love for him. There was no designing +coquetry in the girl. She had always since babyhood loved him, perhaps +better even than she loved her parents, and she delighted to show him +her affection. Billy had never been deceived by her preference, and of +course was careful that she should not observe the real quality of his +own regard for her. But the girl's love, such as she gave, was sweet to +him--oh, so sweet, this love of this perfect girl--and he, even he, old +and gray though he was, could not help longing for that which he knew +was as far beyond his reach as the bending rainbow is beyond the hand of +a longing child. He was more than fifty in years, but his heart was +young, and we, of course, all agree that he was very foolish +indeed--which truth he knew quite as well as we. + +So this disclosure of Dic's was a shock to Billy, although it was the +thing of all others he most desired should come to pass. + +"Are you angry, Billy Little?" asked Dic, feeling somewhat inclined to +laugh, though standing slightly in fear of his little friend. + +"Certainly not," returned Billy. "Why should I be angry? It's no affair +of mine." + +"No affair of yours, Billy Little?" asked Dic, with a touch of distress +in his voice, though he knew that it was an affair very dear to Billy's +heart. "Do you really mean it?" + +"No, of course I don't mean it," returned Billy; "but I wish you +wouldn't bother me. Don't you see I'm at work?" + +Billy's conduct puzzled Dic, as well it might, and the young man turned +his face toward the door, determined to wait till an explanation should +come unsought. + +Billy's bachelor apartment--or apartments, as he called his single +room--was back of the store. There were his bed,--a huge, mahogany +four-poster,--his library, his bath-tub, a half-dozen good pictures in +oil and copper-plate, a pair of old fencing foils,--relics of his +university days,--a piano, and a score of pipes. Under the bed was a +flat leather trunk, and on the floor a rich, though worn, velvet carpet. +Three or four miniatures on ivory rested on the rude mantel-shelf, and +in the middle of the room stood a mahogany table covered with +_Blackwood's Magazines_, pamphlets, letters, and books. In the midst of +this confusion on the table stood a pair of magnificent gold +candlesticks, each holding a half-burned candle, and over all was a +mantle of dust that would have driven a woman mad. Certainly the +contents of Billy's "apartments" was an incongruous collection to find +in a log-cabin of the wilderness. + +At the end of half an hour Billy called to Dic, saying:-- + +"I wish you would watch the store for me. I'm going to my apartments for +a bit. If Mrs. Hawkins comes in, give her this bottle of calomel and +this bundle of goods. The calomel is a fippenny bit; the goods is four +shillin', but I don't suppose she'll want to pay for them. Don't take +coonskins. I won't have coonskins. If I can't sell my goods for cash, +I'll keep 'em. Butter and eggs will answer once in a while, if the +customer is poor and has no money, but I draw the line on coonskins. The +Hawkinses always have coonskins. I believe they breed coons, but they +can't trade their odoriferous pelts to me. If she has them, tell her to +take them to Hackett's. He'll trade for fishing worms, if she has any, +and then perhaps get more than his shoddy goods are worth. Well, here's +the calomel and the goods. Get the cash or charge them. There's a letter +in the C box for Seal Coble. Give it to Mrs. Hawkins, and tell her to +hand it to Seal as she drives past his house. Tell her to read it to the +old man. He doesn't know _a_ from _x_. I doubt if Mrs. Hawkins does. But +you can tell her to read it--it will flatter her. I'll return when I'm +ready. Meantime, I don't want to be disturbed by any one. Understand?" + +"Yes," answered Dic, and the worthy merchant disappeared, locking the +door behind him. + +Billy sat down in the arm-chair, leaned his head backward, and looked at +the ceiling for a few minutes; then, resting his elbows on his knees, he +buried his face in his hands. There he sat without moving for an hour. +At the end of that time he arose, drew the trunk from under the bed, +unlocked it, and raised the lid. A woman's scarf, several bundles of +letters, two teakwood boxes, ten or twelve inches square and three or +four inches deep, beautifully mounted in gold, and a dozen books neatly +wrapped in tissue paper, made up the contents. These articles seemed to +tell of a woman back somewhere in Billy's life; and if they spoke the +truth, there must have been grief along with her for Billy. For although +he was created capable of great joy, by the same token he could also +suffer the deepest grief. + +Out of the trunk came one of the gold-mounted boxes, and out of the box +came a package of letters neatly tied with a faded ribbon. Billy lifted +the package to his face and inhaled the faint odor of lavender given +forth; then he--yes, even he, Billy Little, quaint old cynic, pressed +the dainty bundle to his lips and breathed a sigh of mingled sorrow and +relief. + +"Ah, I knew they would help me," he said. "They always do. Whatever my +troubles, they always help me." + +He opened the package, and, after carefully reading the letters, bound +them again with the ribbon, and took from the box a small ivory jewel +case, an inch cube in size. From the ivory box he took a heavy plain +gold ring and went over to the chair, where he sat in bachelor +meditation, though far from fancy free. + +Suddenly he sprang from the chair, exclaiming: "I'll do it. I'll do it. +She would wish me to--I will, I will." + +He then went back to the storeroom, loitered behind the letter-boxes a +few minutes, called Dic back to him, and said:-- + +"You are going to have one of the sweetest, best girls in all the world +for your wife," said he. "You are lucky, Dic, but she is luckier. When +you first told me of--of what happened last night, I was disappointed +because I saw your career simply knocked end over end. No man, having as +sweet a wife as Rita, ever amounted to anything, unless she happened to +be ambitious, and Rita has no more ambition than a spring violet. Such a +woman, unless she is ambitious, takes all the ambition out of a man. She +becomes sufficient for him. She absorbs his aspirations, and gives him +in exchange nothing but contentment. Of course, if she is ambitious and +sighs for a crown for him, she is apt to lead him to it. But Rita knows +how to do but one thing well--first conjugation, present infinitive, +_amare_. She knows all about that, and she will bring you mere +happiness--nothing else. By Jove, I'm sorry for you. You'll only be +happy." + +"But, Billy Little," cried Dic, "you have it wrong. Don't you see that +she will be an inspiration? She will fire me. I will work and achieve +greater things for her sake than I could possibly accomplish without +her." + +"That's why you're going to New York, is it?" asked Dic's cynical +friend. + +"Well, you know, that was her first request, and--and, you must +understand--" + +"Yes, I understand. I know she will coax you out of leaving her side +long enough to plow a corn row if you are not careful. There'll be happy +times for the weeds. Women of Rita's sort are like fire and water, Dic; +they are useful and delightful, but dangerous. No man, however wise, +knows their power. Egad! One of them would coax the face off of ye if +she wanted it, before you knew you had a face. It's their God-given +privilege to coax; but bless your soul, Dic, what a poor world this +would be without their coaxing. God pity the man who lacks it! Eh, Dic?" +Billy was thinking of his own loneliness. + +"Rita certainly knows how to coax," replied Dic. "And--and it is very +pleasant." + +"Have you an engagement ring for her?" asked Billy. + +"No," responded Dic, "I can't afford one now, and Rita doesn't expect +it. After I'm established in the law, I'll buy her a beautiful ring." + +"After you're established in the law! If the poor girl waits for +that--but she shan't wait. I have one here," said Billy, drawing forth +the ivory box. "I value it above all my possessions." His voice broke +piteously. "It is more precious to me ... than words can ... tell or ... +money can buy. It brought me ... my first great joy ... my first great +grief. I give it to you, Dic, that you may give it to Rita. Egad! I +believe I've taken a cold from the way my eyes water. There, there, +don't thank me, or I'll take it back. Now, I want to be alone. Damme, I +say, don't thank me. Get out of here, you young scoundrel; to come in +here and take my ring away from me! Jove! I'll have the law on you, the +law! Good-by." + +"I fear I should not have given them the ring," mused Billy when Dic had +gone.... "It might prove unlucky.... It came back to me because she was +forced to marry another.... I wonder if it will come back to Dic? +Nonsense! It is impossible.... Nothing can come between them.... But it +was a fatal ring for me.... I am almost sorry ... but it can bring no +trouble to Dic and Rita ... impossible. But I am almost sorry ... go +off, Billy Little; you are growing soft and superstitious ... but it +would break her heart. I wonder ... ah! nonsense. Maxwelton's braes are +bonny, um, um, um, um, um, um." And Billy first tried to sing his grief +away, then sought relief from his beloved piano. + + + + +THE FIGHT BY THE RIVER SIDE + +CHAPTER VI + +THE FIGHT BY THE RIVER SIDE + + +Deep in the forest on the home path, Dic looked at the ring, and quite +forgot Billy Little, while he anticipated the pleasure he would take in +giving the golden token to Rita. He did not intend to be selfish, but +selfishness was a part of his condition. A great love is, and should be, +narrowing. + +That evening Dic walked down the river path to Bays's and, as usual, sat +on the porch with the family. Twenty-four hours earlier sitting on the +porch with the family would have seemed a delightful privilege, and the +moments would have been pleasure-winged. But now Mrs. Bays's profound +and frequently religious philosophizing was dull compared to what might +be said on the log down by the river bank. + +Tom, of course, talked a good deal. Among other things he remarked to +Dic:-- + +"I 'lowed you'd never come back here again after the way Rita treated +you last night." Of course he did not know how exceedingly well Rita had +treated Dic last night. + +"Oh, that was nothing," returned Dic. "Rita was right. I hope she will +always--always--" The sentence was hard to finish. + +"You hope she'll always treat you that-a-way?" asked Tom, derisively. "I +bet if you had her alone she wouldn't be so hard to manage--would you, +Rita?" Tom thought himself a rare wit, and a mistake of that sort makes +one very disagreeable. Rita's face burned scarlet at Tom's witticism, +and Mrs. Bays promptly demanded of her daughter:-- + +"What on earth are you talking about?" Poor Rita had not been talking at +all, and therefore made no answer. The demand was then made of Tom, but +in a much softer tone of voice:-- + +"Tell me, Tom," his mother asked. + +"I'll not tell you. Rita and Dic may, but I'll not. I'm no tell-tale." +No, not he! + +The Chief Justice turned upon Rita, looked sternly over her glasses, and +again insisted:-- + +"What have you been doing, girl? Tell me at once. I command you by the +duty you owe your mother." + +"I can't tell you, mother. Please don't ask," replied Rita, hanging her +head. + +"You can tell me, and you shall," cried the fond mother. + +"I can't tell you, mother, and I won't. Please don't ask." + +"Do my ears deceive me? You refuse to obey your parents? 'Obey thy +father and thy mother that thy days may be long'--" + +Tom interrupted her: "Oh, mother, for goodness' sake, quit firing that +quotation at Rita. I'm sick of it. If it's true, I ought to have died +long ago. I don't mind you. Never did. Never will." + +"Yes, you do, Tom," answered his mother, meekly. "And this disobedient +girl shall mind me, too." Rita had never in all her life disobeyed a +command from either father or mother. She was obedient from habit and +inclination, and in her guileless, affectionate heart believed that a +terrific natural cataclysm of some sort would surely occur should she +even think of disobeying. + +With ostentatious deliberation Mrs. Bays folded her knitting and placed +it on the floor beside her; took off her spectacles, put them in the +case, and put the case in her pocket. Rita knew her mother was clearing +the decks for action and that Justice was coldly arranging to have its +own. So great was the girl's love and fear for this hard woman that she +trembled as if in peril. + +"Now, Margarita Fisher Bays," the Chief Justice began, glaring at the +trembling girl. When on the bench she addressed her daughter by her full +name in long-drawn syllables, and Rita's full name upon her mother's +lips meant trouble. But at the moment Mrs. Bays began her address from +the bench Billy Little came around the corner of the house and stopped +in front of the porch. + +Tom said, "Hello, Billy Little," Mr. Bays said, "Howdy," and Mrs. Bays +said majestically: "Good evening, Mr. Little. You have come just in time +to see the ungratefullest creature the world can produce--a disobedient +daughter." + +"I can't believe that you have one," smiled Billy. + +Rita's eyes flashed a look of gratitude upon her friend. Dic might not +be able to understand the language of those eyes, but Billy knew their +vocabulary from the smallest to the greatest word. + +"I wouldn't believe it either," said Mrs. Bays, "if I had not just heard +her say it with my own ears." + +"Did she say it with your own ears?" interrupted Tom. + +"Now, Tom, please don't interrupt, my son," said Mrs. Bays. "She said to +her own mother, Mr. Little, 'I won't;' said it to her own mother who has +toiled and suffered and endured for her sake all her life long; to her +own mother who has nursed her and watched over her and tried to do her +duty according to the poor light that God has vouchsafed--and--and I've +been troubled with my heart all day." + +Rita, poor girl, had been troubled with her heart many days. + +"Yes, with my heart," continued the dutiful mother. "Dr. Kennedy says I +may drop any moment." (Billy secretly wished that Kennedy had fixed the +moment.) "And when I asked her to tell me what she did last night at the +social, she answered, 'I can't and won't.' I should have known better +than to let her go. She hasn't sense enough to be let out of my sight. +She lied to me about the social, too. She pretended that she did not +want to go, and she did want to go." That was the real cause of Mrs. +Margarita's anger. She suspected she had been duped into consenting, and +the thought had rankled in her heart all day. + +"You did want to go, didn't you?" snapped out the old woman. + +"Yes, mother, I did want to go," replied Rita. + +"There, you hear for yourself, Mr. Little. She lied to me, and now is +brazen enough to own up to it." + +Tom thought the scene very funny and laughed boisterously. Had Tom been +scolded, Rita would have wept. + +"Go it, mother," said Tom. "This is better than a jury trial." + +"Oh, Tom, be still, son!" said Mrs. Bays, and then turning to Rita: "Now +you've got to tell me what happened at Scott's social. Out with it!" + +Rita and Dic were sitting near each other on the edge of the porch. Mr. +Bays and Tom occupied rocking-chairs, and Billy Little was standing on +the ground, hat in hand. + +"Tell me this instant," cried Mrs. Bays, rising from her chair and going +over to the girl, who shrank from her in fear. "Tell me, or +I'll--I'll--" + +"I can't, mother," the girl answered tremblingly. "I can't tell you +before all these--these folks. I'll tell you in the house." + +"You went into the kissing game. That's what you did," cried Mrs. Bays, +"and your punishment shall be to confess it before Mr. Little." Rita +began to weep, and answered gently:-- + +"Yes, mother, I did, but I did not--did not--" A just and injured wrath +gathered on the face of Justice. + +"Didn't I command you not?" + +"I'll tell you all about it, Mrs. Bays," interrupted Dic. "I coaxed her +to go in." (Rita's heart thanked him for the lie.) "The others all +insisted. One of the boys dragged her to the centre of the room and she +just had to go into the game. She only remained a short time, and what +Tom referred to is this: she would not allow any one to--to kiss her, +and she quit the game when she--she refused me." + +"She quit the game when it quit, I 'low. Isn't that right?" asked the +inquisitor. + +"The game stopped when she went out--" + +"I thought as much," replied Mrs. Bays, straightening up for the purpose +of delivering judgment. "Now go to bed at once, you disobedient, +indecent girl! I'm ashamed of you, and blush that Mr. Little should know +your wickedness." + +"Oh, please let me stay," sobbed Rita, but Mrs. Bays pointed to the door +and Rita rose, gave one glance to Dic, and went weeping to her room. Mr. +Bays said mildly:-- + +"Margarita, you should not have been so hard on the girl." + +"Now, Tom Bays," responded the strenuous spouse, "I'll thank you not to +meddle with my children. I know my duty, and I'll do it. Lord knows I +wish I could shirk it as some people do, but I can't. I must do my duty +when the Lord is good enough to point it out, or my conscience will +smite me. There's many a person with my heart would sit by and let her +child just grow up in the wilderness like underbrush; but I _must_ do +my duty, Mr. Little, in the humble sphere in which Providence has placed +me. Give every man his just dues, and do my duty. That's all I know, Mr. +Little. 'Justice to all and punishment for sinners;' that's my motto and +my husband will tell you I live up to it." She looked for confirmation +to her spouse, who said regretfully:-- + +"Yes, I must say that's true." + +"There," cried triumphant Justice. "You see, I don't boast. I despise +boasting." She took up her knitting, put on her glasses, closed her +lips, and thus announced that court was also closed. + +Poor Rita, meantime, was sobbing, upstairs at her window. + +After a long, awkward silence, Billy Little addressed Dic. "I came up to +spend the night with you, and if you are going home, I'll walk and lead +my horse. I suppose you walked down?" + +"Yes," answered Dic; "I'll go with you." + +"I'm sorry to carry off your company, Mrs. Bays," said Billy, "but I +want to--" + +"Oh, Dic's no company; he's always here. I don't know where he finds +time to work. I'd think he'd go to see the girls sometimes." + +"Rita's a girl, isn't she?" asked Billy, glancing toward Dic. + +"Rita's only a child, and a disobedient one at that," replied Mrs. Bays, +but Billy's words put a new thought into her head that was almost sure +to cause trouble for Rita. + +When Billy and Dic went around the house to fetch Billy's horse, Rita +was sitting at the window upstairs. She smiled through her tears and +tossed a note to Dic, which he deciphered by the light of the moon. It +was brief, "Please meet me to-morrow at the step-off--three o'clock." + +The step-off was a deep hole in the river halfway between Bays's and +Bright's. + +Dic and Billy walked up the river path a little time in silence. Billy +was first to speak. + +"I consider," said he, "that profane swearing is vulgar, but I must say +damn that woman. What an inquisitor she would make. I hope Kennedy is +right about her heart. Think of her as your mother-in-law!" + +"When Rita is my wife," replied Dic, "I'll protect her, if I have +to--to--" + +"What will you do, Dic?" asked Billy. "Such a woman is utterly +unmanageable. You see, the trouble is, that she believes in herself and +is honest by a species of artificial sincerity. Show me a stern, hard +woman who is bent on doing her duty, her whole duty, and nothing but her +duty, and I'll show you a misery breeder. Did you give Rita the ring?" + +"I haven't had the chance," answered Dic. "I'll do it to-morrow. Billy +Little, I want to thank you--you must let me tell you what I think, or +I'll burst." + +"Burst, then," returned Billy. "I'd rather be kicked than thanked. I +knew how Rita and you would feel, or I should not have given you the +ring. Do you suppose I would have parted with it because of a small +motive? Have you told the Chief Justice?" + +"No; she will learn when she sees the ring on Rita's finger." + +Silence then ensued, which was broken after a few minutes by Billy +Little humming under his breath, "Maxwelton's braes are bonny." Dic soon +joined in the sweet refrain, and, each encouraging the other, they +swelled their voices and allowed the tender melody to pour forth. I can +almost see them as they walked up the river path, now in the black +shadow of the forest, and again near the gurgling water's edge, in the +yellow light of the moon. The warm, delicious air was laden with the +odor of trees and sweetbrier, and to the song the breath of the south +wind played an accompaniment of exquisite cadence upon the leaves. I +seem to hear them singing,--Billy's piping treble, plaintive, quaint, +and almost sweet, carrying the tenor to Dic's bass. There was no +soprano. The concert was all tenor and bass, south wind, and rustling +leaves. The song helped Dic to express his happiness, and enabled Billy +to throw off the remnants of his heartache. Music is a surer antidote to +disappointment, past, present, and future, than the philosophy of all +the Stoics that ever lived; and if all who know the truth of that +statement were to read these pages, Billy Little would have many +millions of sympathizers. + +Dic did not neglect Rita's note, but read it many times after he had +lighted the candle in the loft where he and Billy were to sleep. Long +after Billy had gone to bed Dic sat up, thinking of Rita, and anon +replenishing his store of ecstasy from the full fountain of her note. +After an unreasonable period of waiting Billy said:-- + +"If you intend to sit there all night, I wish you would smother the +candle. It's filling the room with bugs. Here is a straddle-bug of some +sort that's been trying to saw my foot off." + +"In a moment, Billy Little," answered Dic. The moment stretched into +many minutes, until Billy, growing restive, threw his shoe at the candle +and felled it in darkness to the floor. Dic laughed and went to bed, and +Billy fell into so great a fit of laughter that he could hardly check +it. Neither slept much, and by sun-up Billy was riding homeward. + +That he might be sure to be on time, Dic was at the step-off by +half-past two, and five minutes later Rita appeared. The step-off was at +a deep bend in the river where the low-hanging water-elm, the redbud, +and the dogwood, springing in vast luxuriance from the rich bottom +soil, were covered by a thick foliage of wild grape-vines. + +"The river path," used only as a "horse road" and by pedestrians, left +the river at the upper bend, crossing the narrow peninsula formed by the +winding stream, and did not intrude upon the shady nook of raised ground +at the point of the peninsula next the water's edge. There was, however, +a horse path--wagon roads were few and far apart--on the opposite side +of the river. This path was little used, save by hunters, the west side +of the river being government land, and at that time a vast stretch of +unbroken forest. Rita had chosen the step-off for her trysting-place +because of its seclusion, and partly, perhaps, for the sake of its +beauty. She and Dic could be seen only from the opposite side of the +river, and she thought no one would be hunting at that time of the year. +The pelts of fur-giving animals taken then were unfit for market. +Venison was soft, and pheasants and turkeys were sitting. There would be +nothing she would wish to conceal in meeting Dic; but the instinct of +all animate nature is to do its love-making in secret. + +"Oh, Dic," said the girl, after they were seated on a low, rocky bench +under a vine-covered redbud, "oh, Dic, I did so long to speak to you +last night. After what happened night before last--it seems ages ago--I +have lived in a dream, and I wanted to talk to you and assure myself +that it is all true and real." + +"It is as real as you and I, Rita, and I have brought you something that +will always make you know it is real." + +"Isn't it wonderful, Dic?" said the girl, looking up to him with a +childish wistfulness of expression that would always remain in her eyes. +"Isn't it wonderful that this good fortune has come to me? I can hardly +realize that it is true." + +"Oh, but I am the one to whom the good fortune has really come," +replied Dic. "You are so generous that you give me yourself, and that is +the richest present on earth." + +"Ah, but you are so generous that you take me. I cannot understand it +all yet; I suppose I shall in time. But what have you brought that will +make me know it is all real?" + +Dic then brought forth the ivory box and held it behind him. + +"Oh, what is it?" cried the girl, eagerly. + +"Give me your hand," commanded Dic. The hand was promptly surrendered. + +"Now close your eyes," he continued. The eyes were closed, very, very +honestly. Rita knew no other way of doing anything, and never so much as +thought of peeping. Then Dic lifted the soft little hand to his lips, +and slipped the gold band on the third finger. + +"Oh, I know what it is now," she cried delightedly, but she would not +look till Dic should say "open." "Open" was said, and the girl +exclaimed:-- + +"Oh, Dic, where did you get it?" + +Bear this fact in mind: If you live among the trees, the wild flowers, +and the birds, you will always remain a child. Rita was little more than +a child in years, and I know you will love Dic better because within his +man's heart was still the heart of his childhood. The great oak of the +forest year by year takes on its encircling layer of wood, but the +layers of a century still enclose the heart of a sprig that burst forth +upon a spring morning from its mother acorn. + +For a moment after Rita asked Dic where he got the ring he regretted he +had not bought it, but he said:-- + +"Billy Little gave it to me that I might give it to you; so it really is +his present." + +A shade of disappointment spread over her face, but it lasted only a +moment. + +"But you give it to me," she said. "It was really yours, and you give it +to me. I am almost glad it comes from Billy Little. He has been so much +to me. You are by nature different from other men, but the best +difference we owe to Billy Little." The pronoun "we" was significant. It +meant that she also was Billy Little's debtor for the good he had +brought to Dic, since now that wonderful young man belonged to her. + +"I wonder where he got it?" asked the girl. + +"I don't know," replied Dic. "He said he valued it above all else he +possessed, and told me it had brought him his sweetest joy and his +bitterest grief. I think he gave it to a sweetheart long years ago, and +she was compelled to return it and to marry another man. I am only +guessing. I don't know." + +"Perhaps we had better not keep it," returned the girl, with a touch of +her forest-life superstition. "It might bring the same fate to us. I +could not bear it, Dic, now. I should die. Before you spoke to +me--before that night of Scott's social--it would have been hard enough +for me to--to--but now, Dic, I couldn't bear to lose you, nor to marry +another. I could not; indeed, I could not. Let us not keep the ring." + +Dic's ardor concerning the ring was dampened, but he said:-- + +"Nonsense, Rita, you surprise me. Nothing can come between us." + +"I fear others have thought the same way. Perhaps Billy Little and his +sweetheart"--she was almost ready for tears. + +"Yes, but what can come between us? Your parents, I hope, won't object. +Mine won't, and we don't--do we?" said Dic, argumentatively. + +"Ah," answered Rita with her lips, but her eyes, whose language Dic was +beginning to comprehend, said a great deal more than can be expressed in +mere words. + +"Then what save death can separate us?" asked Dic. "We would offend +Billy Little by returning the ring, and it looks pretty on your finger. +Don't you like it, Rita?" + +"Y-e-s," she responded, her head bent doubtingly to one side, as she +glanced down at the ring. + +"You don't feel superstitious about it, do you?" he asked. + +"N-o-o." + +"Then we'll keep it, won't we?" + +"Y-e-s." + +He drew the girl toward him and she turned her face upward. + +He would have kissed her had he not been startled by a call from the +opposite side of the river. + +"Here, here, stop that. That'll never do. Too fine-haired and modest for +a kissing game, but mighty willin' when all alone. We'll come over and +get into the game ourselves." + +Dic and Rita looked up quickly and saw the huge figure of Doug Hill +standing on the opposite bank with a gun over his shoulder and a bottle +of whiskey in his uplifted hand. By his side was his henchman, Patsy +Clark. The situation was a trying one for Dic. He could not fight the +ruffian in Rita's presence, and he had no right to tell him to move on. +So he paid no attention to Doug's hail, and in a moment that worthy +Nimrod passed up the river. Dic and Rita were greatly frightened, and +when Doug passed out of sight into the forest they started home. They +soon reached the path and were walking slowly down toward Bays's, when +they were again startled by the disagreeable voice of the Douglas. This +time the voice came from immediately back of them, and Dic placed +himself behind Rita. + +"I've come to get my kiss," said Doug, laughing boisterously. He was +what he called "full"; not drunk, but "comfortable," which meant +uncomfortable for those who happened to be near him. "I've come for my +kiss," he cried again. + +[Illustration: "'I'VE COME TO GET MY KISS,' SAID DOUG."] + +"You'll not get it," answered Rita, who was brave when Dic was between +her and her foe. Dic, wishing to avoid trouble, simply said, "I guess +not." + +"Oh, you guess not?" said Doug, apparently much amused. "You guess not? +Well, we'll see, Mr. Fine-hair; we'll see." Thereupon, he rested his gun +against a tree, stepped quickly past Dic, and seized Rita around the +waist. He was drawing her head backward to help himself when Dic knocked +him down. Patsy Clark then sprang upon Dic, and, in imitation of his +chief, fell to the ground. Doug and Patsy at once rose to their feet and +rushed toward Dic. Rita screamed, as of course any right-minded woman +would have done, and, clasping her hands in terror, looked on fascinated +and almost paralyzed. Patsy came first and again took a fall. This time, +from necessity or inclination,--probably the latter,--he did not rise, +but left the drunken Douglas to face Dic single-handed and alone. Though +tall and strong, Dic was by no means the equal of Doug in the matter of +bulk, and in a grappling match Doug could soon have killed him. Dic +fully understood this, and, being more active than his huge foe, +endeavored to keep him at arm's length. In this he was successful for a +time; but at last the grapple came, and both men fell to the +ground--Doug Hill on top. Poor Rita was in a frenzy of terror. She could +not even scream. She could only press her hands to her heart and look. +When Dic and Doug fell to the ground, Patsy Clark, believing himself +safe, rose to a sitting posture, and Doug cried out to him:-- + +"Give me your knife, Patsy, give me your knife." Patsy at once responded +by placing his hunting-knife in Doug's left hand. Dic saw his imminent +danger and with his right hand clasped Doug's left wrist in a grasp +that could not be loosened. After several futile attempts to free his +wrist, Doug tossed the knife over to his right side. It fell a few +inches beyond his reach, and he tried to grasp it. Rita saw that very +soon he would reach the knife, and Dic's peril brought back her presence +of mind. Doug put forth terrific efforts to reach the knife, and, +despite Dic's resistance, soon had it in his grasp. In getting the +knife, however, Doug gave Dic an opportunity to throw him off, and he +did so, quickly springing to his feet. Doug was on his feet in a +twinkling, and rushed upon Dic with uplifted knife. Dic knew that he +could not withstand the rush, and thought his hour had come; but the +sharp crack of a rifle broke the forest silence, and the knife fell from +Doug's nerveless hand, his knees shook under him, his form quivered +spasmodically for a moment, and he plunged forward on his face. Dic +turned and saw Rita standing back of him, holding Doug's rifle to her +shoulder, a tiny curl of blue smoke issuing from the barrel. The girl's +face turned pale, the gun fell from her hands, her eyes closed, and she +would have fallen had not Dic caught her in his arms. He did not so much +as glance at Doug, but at once carried the unconscious Rita home with +all the speed he could make. + +"Now for goodness' sake, what has she been doing?" cried Mrs. Bays, as +Dic entered the front door with his almost lifeless burden. "That girl +will be the death of me yet." + +"She has fainted," replied Dic, "and I fear she's dead." + +With a wild scream Mrs. Bays snatched Rita from Dic's arms in a frenzy +of grief that bore a touch of jealousy. In health and happiness Rita for +her own good must bow beneath the rod; but in sickness or in death Rita +was her child, and no strange hand should minister to her. A blessed +philosopher's stone had for once transmuted her hard, barren sense of +justice to glowing love. She carried the girl into the house and applied +restoratives. After a little time Rita breathed a sigh and opened her +eyes. Her first word was "Dic!" + +"Here I am, Rita," he softly answered, stepping to her bedside and +taking her hand. Mrs. Bays, after her first inquiry, had asked no +questions, and Dic had given no information. After Rita's return to +consciousness tears began to trickle down her mother's furrowed cheek, +and, ashamed of her weakness, she left the room. Dic knelt by Rita's bed +and kissed her hands, her eyes, her lips. His caresses were the best of +all restoratives, and when Mrs. Bays returned, Rita was sitting on the +edge of the bed, Dic's arm supporting her and her head resting on his +shoulder. Mrs. Bays came slowly toward them. The girl's habitual fear of +her mother returned, and lifting her head she tried to move away from +Dic, but he held her. Mrs. Bays reached the bedside and stood facing +them in silence. The court of love had adjourned. The court of justice +was again in session. She snatched up Rita's hand and pointed to the +ring. + +"What is that?" she asked sternly. + +"That is our engagement ring," answered Dic. "Rita has promised to be my +wife." + +"Never!" cried the old woman, out of the spirit of pure antagonism. +"Never!" she repeated, closing her lips in a spasm of supposed duty. +Rita's heart sank, and Dic's seemed heavier by many pounds than a few +moments before, though he did not fear the apostle of justice and duty +as did Rita. He hoped to marry Rita at once with her mother's consent; +but if he could not have that, he would wait until the girl was +eighteen, when she could legally choose for herself. Out of his +confidence came calmness, and he asked, + +"Why shall not Rita be my wife? She shall want for nothing, and I will +try to make her happy. Why do you object?" + +"Because--because I do," returned Mrs. Bays. + +"In so important a matter as this, Mrs. Bays, 'because' is not a +sufficient reason." + +"I don't have to give you a reason," she answered sharply. + +"You are a good woman, Mrs. Bays," continued Dic, with a deliberate and +base intent to flatter. "No man or woman has ever had injustice at your +hands, and I, who am almost your son, ask that justice which you would +not refuse to the meanest person on Blue." + +The attack was unfair. Is it ever fair to gain our point by flattering +another's weakness? Dic's statement of the case was hard to evade, so +Mrs. Margarita answered:-- + +"The girl's too young to marry. I'll never consent. I'll have nothing of +the sort going on, for a while at any rate; give him back the ring." + +Rita slipped the ring from her finger and placed it in Dic's hand. + +"Now tell me," Mrs. Bays demanded, "how this came about? How came Rita +to faint?" + +Rita hung her head and began to weep convulsively. + +"Rita and I," answered Dic, "were walking home down the river path. We +had been sitting near the step-off. Doug Hill and Patsy Clark came up +behind us, and Doug tried to kiss Rita. I interfered, and we fought. He +was about to kill me with Patsy's hunting-knife when--when--when I shot +him. Then Rita fainted, and I feared she was dead, so I brought her home +and left Doug lying on his face, with Patsy Clark standing over him." + +Rita so far recovered herself as to be able to say:-- + +"No, mother, I killed him." + +"You," shrieked Mrs. Bays, "you?" + +"Yes," the girl replied. + +"Yes," replied Dic to Mrs. Bays's incredulous look, "that was the way of +it, but I was the cause, and I shall take the blame. You had better not +speak of this matter to any one till we have consulted Billy Little. I +can bear the blame much better than Rita can. When the trial comes, you +and Rita say nothing. I will plead guilty to having killed Doug Hill, +and no questions will be asked." + +"If you will do it, Dic, if you will do it," wailed Mrs. Bays. + +"I certainly will," returned Dic. + +"No, you shall not," said Rita. + +"You must be guided by your mother and me," replied Dic. "I know what is +best, and if you will do as we direct, all may turn out better than we +now hope. He was about to kill me, and I had a right to kill him. I do +not know the law certainly, but I fear you had no right to kill him in +my defence. I have read in the law books that a man may take another's +life in the defence of one whom he is bound to protect. I fear you had +no right to kill Doug Hill for my sake." + +"I had, oh, I had!" sobbed Rita. + +"But you will be guided by your mother and me, will you not, Rita?" +Despite fears of her mother, the girl buried her face on Dic's breast, +and entwining her arms about his neck whispered:-- + +"I will be guided by you." + +Dic then arose and said: "It may be that Doug is not dead. I will take +one of your horses, Mrs. Bays, and ride to town for Dr. Kennedy." + +Within ten minutes Dic was with Billy Little, telling him the story. +"I'm going for Kennedy," said Dic. "Saddle your horse quickly and ride +up with us." + +Five minutes later, Dic, Kennedy, and Billy Little were galloping +furiously up the river to the scene of battle. When they reached it, +Doug, much to Dic's joy, was seated leaning against a tree. His shirt +had been torn away, and Patsy was washing the bullet wound in the breast +and back, for the bullet had passed entirely through Doug's body. + +"Well, he's not dead yet," cried Kennedy. "So far, so good. Now we'll +see if I can keep from killing him." + +While the doctor was at work Dic took Billy to one side. "I told Mrs. +Bays and Rita not to speak about this affair," he said. "I will say upon +the trial that I fired the shot." + +"Why, Dic, that will never do." + +"Yes, it will; it must. You see, I had a good right to kill him, but +Rita had not. At any rate, don't you know that they might as well kill +Rita at once as to try her? She couldn't live through a trial for +murder. It would kill her or drive her insane. I'll plead guilty. That +will stop all questioning." + +"Yes," replied Billy, deep in revery, and stroking his chin; "perhaps +you are right. But how about Hill and Clark? They will testify that Rita +did the shooting." + +"No one will have the chance to testify if I plead guilty," said Dic. + +"And if Doug should die, you may hang or go to prison for life on a mere +unexplained plea of guilty. That shall never happen with my consent." + +"Billy Little, you can't prevent it. I'll make a plea of guilty," +responded Dic, sharply; "and if you try to interfere, I'll never speak +your name again, as God is my help." + +Billy winced. "No wonder she loves you," he said. "I'll not interfere. +But take this advice: say nothing till we have consulted Switzer. Don't +enter a plea of guilty. You must be tried. I believe I have a plan that +may help us." + +"What is it, Billy Little?" asked Dic, eagerly. + +"I'll not tell you now. Trust me for a time without questions, Dic. I am +good for something, I hope." + +"You are good for everything concerning me, Billy Little," said Dic. "I +will trust you and ask no questions." + +"Little," said Kennedy, "if you will make a stretcher of boughs we will +carry Hill up to Bright's house and take him home in a wagon. I think he +may live." Accordingly, a rude litter was constructed, and the four men +carried the wounded Douglas to Dic's house, where he was placed upon a +couch of hay in a wagon, and taken to his home, two or three miles +eastward. + +On the road over, Billy Little asked Dr. Kennedy to lead his horse while +he talked to Patsy Clark, who was driving in the wagon. + +"How did Dic happen to shoot him?" asked Billy when he was seated beside +Patsy. + +"D-Dic d-di-didn't shoot him. Ri-ta did," stuttered Doug's henchman. + +"No, Patsy, it was Dic," said Billy Little. + +"I-I re-reckon I or-orter know," stammered Patsy. "I-I was there and +s-saw it. You wasn't." + +"You're wrong, Patsy," insisted Billy. + +"B-by Ned, I re-reckon I know," he returned. + +"Now listen to me, Patsy," said Billy, impressively. "I say you are +wrong, and--by the way, Patsy, I want you to do a few little odd jobs +about the store for the next month or so. I'll not need you frequently, +but I should like to have you available at any time. If you will come +down to the store, I will pay you twenty dollars wages in advance, and +later on I will give you another twenty. You are a good fellow, and I +want to help you; but I am sure you are wrong in this case. I know it +was Dic who fired the shot. Now, think for a moment. Wasn't it Dic?" + +"We-well, c-come to think a-a-about it, I believe you're right. Damned +if I don't. He t-tuk the gun and jes' b-b-blazed away." + +"I knew that was the way of it," said Billy, quietly. + +"B-betch yur life it was jes' that-a-way. H-how the h----did you know?" + +"Dic told me," answered Billy. + +"Well, that-a-a-a-way was the way it was, sure as you're alive." + +"You're sure of it now, Patsy, are you?" + +"D-dead sure. Wa-wa-wasn't I there and d-d-didn't I see it all? Yes, +sir, d-d-dead sure. And the tw-twenty dollars? I'll g-get it to-morrow, +you say?" + +"Yes." + +"A-and the other t-t-twenty? I'll get it later, eh?" + +"You can trust me, can't you, Patsy?" queried Billy. + +"B-betch yur life I can. E-e-e-everybody does. B-but how much later?" + +"When it is all over," answered Billy. + +"A-all right," responded his stuttering friend. + +"But," asked Billy, "if Doug recovers, and should think as you did at +first, that Rita fired the shot?" + +"Sa-sa-say, B-Billy Little, you couldn't make it another t-t-twenty +later on for that ere job about the st-store, could ye?" + +"I think I can," returned Billy. + +"Well, then, Doug'll g-get it straight--never you f-f-fear. He was crazy +drunk and ha-ha-half blind with blood where Dic knocked him, and he +didn't know who f-f-fired the shot." + +"But suppose he should know?" + +"B-but he won't know, I-I tell ye. I-I t-trust you; c-can't you trust +Patsy? I-I'm not as big a f-fool as I look. I-I let p-people think I'm a +fool because when p-people think you're a f-fool, it's lots easier +t-t-to work 'em. See?" + + * * * * * + +Billy left Doug hovering between life and death, and hurried back to +Dic. "Patsy says you took the gun from where it was leaning against the +tree and shot Hill. I suppose he doesn't know exactly how it did +happen. I told him you said that was the way of it, and he assents. He +says Doug doesn't know who fired the shot. We shall be able to leave +Rita entirely out of the case, and you may, with perfect safety, enter a +plea of self-defence." + +Dic breathed a sigh of relief and longed to thank Billy, but dared not, +and the old friend rode homeward unthanked but highly satisfied. + +On the way home Billy fell into deep thought, and the thoughts grew into +mutterings: "Billy Little, you are coming to great things. A briber, a +suborner of perjury, a liar. I expect soon to hear of you stealing. +Burglary is a profitable and honorable occupation. Go it, Billy +Little.--And for this you came like a wise man out of the East to leaven +the loaf of the West--all for the sake of a girl, a mere child, whom you +are foolish enough to--nonsense--and for the sake of the man she is to +marry." Then the grief of his life seemed to come back to him in a +flood, and he continued almost bitterly: "I don't believe I have led an +evil life. I don't want to feel like a Pharisee; but I don't recollect +having injured any man or woman in the whole course of my miserable +existence, yet I have missed all that is best in life. Even when I have +not suffered, my life has been a pale, tasteless blank with nothing but +a little poor music and worse philosophy to break the monotony. The +little pleasure I have had from any source has been enjoyed alone, and +no joy is complete unless one may give at least a part of it to another. +If one has a pleasure all to himself, he is apt to hate it at times, and +this is one of the times. Billy Little, you must be suffering for the +sins of an ancestor. I wonder what he did, damn him." + +This mood was unusual for Billy. In his youth he had been baptized with +the chrism of sorrow and was safe from the devil of discontent. He was +by nature an apostle of sunshine; but when we consider all the facts, I +know you will agree with me that he had upon this occasion good right +to be a little cloudy. + +That evening Dic was arrested and held in jail pending Doug Hill's +recovery or death. Should Douglas die, Dic would be held for murder and +would not be entitled to bail. In case of conviction for premeditated +murder, death or imprisonment for life would be his doom. If Doug should +recover, the charge against Dic would be assault and battery, with +intent to commit murder, conviction for which would mean imprisonment +for a term of years. If self-defence could be established--and owing to +the fact that neither Dic nor Rita was to testify, that would be +difficult to accomplish--Dic would go free. These enormous "ifs" +complicated the case, and Dic was detained in jail till Doug's fate +should be known. + + + + +THE TRIAL + +CHAPTER VII + +THE TRIAL + + +I shall not try to tell you of Rita's suffering. She wept till she could +weep no more, and the nightmare of suspense settled on her heart in the +form of dry-eyed suffering. She could not, even for a moment, free her +mind from the fact that Dic was in jail and that his life was in peril +on account of her act. Billy went every day to encourage her and to keep +her silent by telling her that Dic would be cleared. Mrs. Bays +prohibited her from visiting the jail; but, despite Rita's fear of her +mother, the girl would have gone had not Dic emphatically forbidden. + +Doug recovered, and, court being then in session, Dic's trial for +assault and battery, with intent to commit murder, came up at once. I +shall not take you through the tedious details of the trial, but will +hasten over such portions as closely touch the fate of our friends. + +Upon the morning of Dic's arraignment he was brought into court and the +jury was empanelled. Rita had begged piteously to go to the trial, but +for many reasons that privilege was denied. The bar was filled with +lawyers, and the courtroom was crowded with spectators. Mr. Switzer +defended Dic, who sat near him on the right hand of the judge, the +State's attorney, with Doug Hill and Patsy Clark, the prosecuting +witnesses, sitting opposite on the judge's left. The jury sat opposite +the judge, and between the State's attorney and Mr. Switzer and the +judge and the jury was an open space fifteen feet square. On a raised +platform in this vacant space was the witness chair, facing the jury. + +Doug Hill and Patsy Clark were the only witnesses for the State. The +defendant had summoned no witnesses, and Dic's fate rested in the hands +of his enemy and his enemy's henchman. + +Patsy and Doug had each done a great deal of talking, and time and again +had asserted that Dic had deliberately shot Doug Hill after the fight +was over. Mr. Switzer's only hope seemed to be to clear Dic on +cross-examination of Doug and Patsy. + +"Not one lie in a hundred can survive a hot cross-examination," he said. +"If a woman is testifying for the man she loves, or for her child, she +will carry the lie through to the end without faltering. Every instinct +of her nature comes to her help; but a man sooner or later bungles a lie +if you make him angry and keep at him." + +Doug was the first witness called. He testified that after the fight was +over Dic snatched up the gun and said, "I'm going to kill you;" that he +then fired the shot, and that afterward Doug remembered nothing. The +story, being simple, was easily maintained, and Mr. Switzer's +cross-examination failed to weaken the evidence. Should Patsy Clark +cling to the same story as successfully, the future looked dark for Dic. + +When Doug left the stand at noon recess, Billy rode up to see Rita, and +in the course of their conversation the girl discovered his fears. +Billy's dark forebodings did not affect her as he supposed they would. +He had expected tears and grief, but instead he found a strange, +unconcerned calmness that surprised and puzzled him. Soon after Billy's +departure Rita saddled her horse and rode after him. Mrs. Bays forbade +her going, but for the first time in her life the girl sullenly refused +to answer her mother, and rode away in dire rebellion. + +Court convened at one o'clock, and Patsy Clark was called to the stand. +The State's attorney began his examination-in-chief:-- + +_Question._--"State your name." + +_Answer by Patsy._--"Sh-shucks, ye know my name." + +"State your name," ordered the Court. + +_Answer._--"Pa-Pa-Patsy C-Clark." + +_Question by State's Attorney._--"Where do you live?" + +_Answer._--"North of t-t-town, with D-Doug Hill's father." + +_Question._--"Where were you, Mr. Clark, on fifth day of last month at +or near the hour of three o'clock P.M.?" + +_Answer._--"Don't know the day, b-but if you mean the d-day Doug and +D-Dic had their fight, I-I was up on B-Blue about halfway b-between Dic +Bright's house and T-Tom Bays', at the step-off." + +_Question._--"What, if anything, occurred at that time and place?" + +_Answer._--"A f-fight--damned bad one." + +_Question._--"Who fought?" + +_Answer._--"D-Doug Hill and D-Dic Bright." + +_Question._--"Now, Mr. Clark, tell the jury all you heard and saw take +place, in the presence of the defendant Dic Bright, during that fight." + +The solemnity of the Court had made a deep impression on Patsy, and he +trembled while he spoke. He was angry because the State's attorney, as +he supposed, had pretended not to know his name, whereas that self-same +State's attorney had been familiar with him prior to the election. + +"We'll get the truth out of this fellow on cross-examination," whispered +Mr. Switzer to his client. + +"Be careful not to get too much truth out of him," returned Dic. + +Patsy began his story. + +"Well, me and D-Doug was a-g-a-goin' up the west b-bank of B-Blue when +we seed--" + +_State's Attorney._--"Never mind what you saw at that time. Answer my +question. I asked you to tell all you saw and heard during the fight." + +_Answer._--"I-I w-will if you'll l-let me. J-jest you keep still a +minute and l-l-let me t-talk. I-I c-can't t-t-talk very well anyway. +C-can't talk near as well as you. B-but I can say a he-heap more. +Whe-whe-when you talk so much, ye-ye-you g-get me to st-st-st-stuttering. +S-see? Now listen to that." + +_State's Attorney._--"Well, go on." + +_Answer._--"Well, we seed Dic and Rita Bays, p-prettiest girl in the +h-h-whole world, on the op-opposite side of the river, and he wa-wa-was +a-kissin' her." + +_State's Attorney._--"Never mind that, but go ahead. Tell it your own +way." + +"I object," interposed Mr. Switzer. "The witness must confine himself to +the State's question." + +"Confine your answer to the question, Mr. Clark," commanded the Court. +Patsy was growing angry, confused, and frightened. + +_State's Attorney._--"Go on. Tell your story, can't you?" + +_Answer._--"Well, Doug, he hollered across the river and said he-he +wa-wa-wanted one hisself and would g-g-go over after it." + +_State's Attorney._--"Did you not understand my question? What did you +see and hear? What occurred during the fight?" + +_Answer._--"Well, g-good L-L-Lord! a-ain't I tryin' to t-tell ye? When +we crossed the river and g-got to the step-off, Rita and D-Dic had went +away and D-Doug and me st-started after 'em down the path toward +B-Bays's. When we g-got up t-to 'em D-Doug he says, says 'ee, 'I-I've +come for my k-kiss,' says 'ee, jes' that-a-way. 'Ye wo-won't get none,' +says Rita, says she, jes' that-a-way, and D-Dic he p-puts in and says, +says 'ee, 'I-I g-guess not,' says 'ee, jes' that-a-way. Then Doug he-he +puts his gun agin' a gum tree and g-grabs Rita about the wa-waist, +hugging her up to him ti-tight-like. Then he-he push her head back-like, +so's 'ee c-could get at her mouth, and then Dic he-he ups and knocks him +d-down. Then D-Doug he-he gets up quick-like and they clinches and +falls, and D-Doug on top. Then Doug he-he says, says 'ee to me, 'G-Give +me your n-knife, Patsy,' jes' that-a-way, and I ups and gives him my +knife, but he d-drops it and some way D-Dic he throws Doug o-off and +gets up, and Doug he picks up the knife and st-starts for Dic, lookin' +wilder 'en hell. Jes' then Rita she ups with D-Doug's gun and shoots him +right through. He-he trembled-like for a minute and his knees shuk and +he shivered all over and turned white about the mouth like he was awful +sick, and then he d-dropped on his face, shot through and through." + +The confusion in the courtroom had been growing since the beginning of +Patsy's story, and by the time he had finished it broke into an uproar. +The judge called "Order," and the sheriff rose to quiet the audience. + +_State's Attorney._--"Do you mean to say, Mr. Clark, that Rita Bays +fired the shot that wounded Douglas Hill?" + +Douglas, you remember, had just sworn that Dic fired the shot. + +_Answer._--"Yes, sir, you betch yur life that's jes' the way w-w-what I +mean to say." + +_State's Attorney._--"Now, Mr. Clark, I'll ask you if you did not tell +me and many other citizens of this community that the defendant, Dic +Bright, fired the shot?" + +"I object," cried Mr. Switzer. "The gentleman cannot impeach his own +witness." + +"You are right, Mr. Switzer," answered the Court, "unless on the ground +of surprise; but I overrule your objection. Proceed, Mr. State's +Attorney." + +"Answer my question," said that official to Patsy. + +_Answer._--"Yes, sir, I-I d-did tell you, and lots of other folks, too, +that D-Dic shot Doug Hill." + +Question.--"Then, sir, how do you reconcile those statements with the +one you have just made?" + +Answer.--"Don't try to re-re-re-reconcile 'em. Can't. I-I wa-wa-was +talkin' then. I'm sw-sw-swearin' now." + +Dic sprang to his feet, exclaiming:-- + +"If the Court please, I wish to enter a plea of guilty to the charge +against me." + +"Your plea will not be accepted," answered the Court. "I am beginning to +see the cause for the defendant's peculiar behavior in this case. Mr. +Sheriff, please subpoena Miss Rita Bays." + +Dic broke down, and buried his face in his folded arms on the table. + +The sheriff started to fetch Rita, but met her near the courthouse and +returned with her to the courtroom. She was directed to take the witness +stand, which she did as calmly as if she were taking a seat at her +father's dinner table; and her story, told in soft, clear tones, +confirmed Patsy in all essential details. + +Mr. Switzer objected to the questions put to her by the Court on the +ground that she could not be compelled to give evidence that would +incriminate herself. The judge admitted the validity of Mr. Switzer's +objection; but after a moment spent in private consultation with the +State's attorney, he said:-- + +"The State and the Court pledge themselves that no prosecution will be +instituted against Miss Bays in case her answers disclose the fact that +she shot Doug Hill." + +After Rita had told her story the judge said: "Miss Bays, you did right. +You are a strong, noble girl, and the man who gets you for a wife will +be blessed of God." + +Rita blushed and looked toward Dic, as if to say, "You hear what the +judge says?" But Dic had heard, and thought the judge wise and excellent +to a degree seldom, if ever, equalled among men. + +The judge then instructed the jury to return a verdict of not guilty, +and within five minutes Dic was a free and happy man. Billy Little did +not seem to be happy; for he, beyond a doubt, was crying, though he said +he had a bad cold and that colds always made his eyes water. He started +to sing Maxwelton's braes in open court, but remembered himself in time, +and sang mentally. + +Mrs. Bays had followed Rita; and when the girl and Dic emerged from the +courthouse door, the high court of the Chief Justice seized its daughter +and whisked her off without so much as giving her an opportunity to say +a word of farewell. Rita looked back to Dic, but she was in the hands of +the high court, which was a tribunal differing widely from the _nisi +prius_ organization she had just left, and by no means to be trifled +with. + +Dic stopped for dinner at the inn with Billy Little, and told him that +Mrs. Bays refused her consent. + +"Did you expect anything else?" asked Billy. + +"Yes, I did," answered Dic. + +"Even Rita will be valued more highly if you encounter difficulties in +getting her," replied his friend. + +"I certainly value her highly enough as it is," said Dic, "and Mrs. +Bays's opposition surprises me a little. I know quite as well as +she--better, perhaps--that I am not worthy of Rita. No man is. But I am +not lazy. I would be willing to die working for her. I am not very good; +neither am I very bad. She will make me good, and I don't see that any +one else around here has anything better to offer her. The truth is, +Rita deserves a rich man from the city, who can give her a fine house, +servants, and carriages. It is a shame, Billy Little, to hide such +beauty as Rita's under a log-cabin's roof in the woods." + +"I quite agree with you," was Billy's unexpected reply. "But I don't see +any chance for her catching that sort of a man unless her father goes in +business with Fisher at Indianapolis. Even there the field is not broad. +She might, if she lived at Indianapolis, meet a stranger from +Cincinnati, St. Louis, or the East, and might marry the house, +carriages, and servants. I understand Bays--perhaps I should say Mrs. +Bays--contemplates making the move, and probably you had better withdraw +your claim and give the girl a chance." + +Dic looked doubtingly at his little friend and said, "I think I shall +not withdraw." + +"I have not been expecting you would," answered Billy. "But what are you +going to do about the Chief Justice?" + +"I don't know. What would you do?" + +Billy Little paused before answering. "If you knew what mistakes I have +made in such matters, you would not ask advice of me." + +Dic waited, hoping that Billy would amplify upon the subject of his +mistakes, but he waited in vain. "Nevertheless," he said, "I want your +advice." + +"I have none to give," responded Billy, "unless it is to suggest in a +general way that in dealing with women boldness has always been +considered the proper article. Humility is sweet in a beautiful woman, +but it makes a man appear sheepish. The first step toward success with +all classes of persons is to gain their respect. Humility in a man won't +gain the respect of a hound pup. Face the world bravely. Egad! St. +George's little affair with the fiery dragon grows pale when one thinks +of the icy dragoness of duty and justice you must overthrow before you +can rescue Rita. But go at the old woman as if you had fought dragons +all your life. Tell her bluntly that you want Rita; that you must and +will have her, and that it is not in the power of duty and justice to +keep her from you. Be bold, and you will probably get the girl, together +with her admiration and gratitude. I guess there is no doubt they like +it--boldness. But Lord bless your soul, Dic, I don't know what they +like. I think the best thing you can do is to go to New York with +Sampson, the horse-dealer. He sails out of here in a few days, and if +you will go with him he will pay you five hundred dollars and will allow +you to take a few horses on your own account. You will double your money +if you take good horses." + +"Do you really think he would pay me five hundred dollars?" asked Dic. + +"Yes, I believe he will. I'll see him about it." + +"I believe I'll go," said Dic. "That is, I'll go if--" + +"If Rita will let you, I suppose you are going to say," remarked Billy. +"We'll name the new firm of horse-buyers Sampson and Sampson; for if you +are not mindful this gentle young Delilah will shear you." + +"I promised her I would not go. I cannot break my word. If she will +release me, I will go, and will thank you with all my heart. Billy +Little, you have done so much for me that I must--I must--" + +"There you go. 'Deed if I don't leave you if you keep it up. You have +four or five good horses, and I'll loan you five hundred dollars with +which you may buy a dozen or fifteen more. You may take twenty head of +horses on your own account, and should make by the trip fifteen hundred +or two thousand dollars, including your wages. Why, Dic, you will be +rich. Unless I am mistaken, wealth is greater even than boldness with +icy dragonesses." + +"Not with Rita." + +"You don't need help of any sort with her," said Billy. "Poor girl, she +is winged for all time. You may be bold or humble, rich or poor; it +will be all one to her. But you want to get her without a fight. You +don't know what a fight with a woman like the Chief Justice means. +Carnage and destruction to beat Napoleon. I believe if you had two +thousand dollars in gold, there would be no fight. Good sinews of war +are great peace-makers." + +"I know Rita will release me if I insist," said Dic. + +"I'm sure she will," responded his friend. + +"I will go," cried Dic, heroically determined to break the tender +shackles of Rita's welding. + +"Now you are a man again," said Billy. "You may cause her to cry a bit, +but she'll like you none the less for that. If tears caused women to +hate men, there would be a sudden stoppage in population." Billy sat +contemplative for a moment with his finger tips together. "Men are +brutes"--another pause--"but they salt the earth while women sweeten it. +Personally, I would rather sweeten the earth than salt it; but a sweet +man is like a pokeberry--sugarish, nauseating and unhealthful. My love +for sweetness has made me a failure." + +"You are not a failure, Billy Little. You are certainly of the salt of +the earth," insisted Dic. + +"A man fails when he does not utilize his capabilities to their limit," +said Billy, philosophically. "He is a success when he accomplishes all +he can. The measure of the individual is the measure of what should +constitute his success. His capabilities may be small or great; if he +but use them all, he is a success. A fishing worm may be a great success +as a fishing worm, but a total failure as a mule. Bless me, what a +sermon I have preached about nothing. I fear I am growing garrulous," +and Billy looked into the fire and hummed Maxwelton's braes. + +That evening Dic went to call on Rita and made no pretence of wishing to +see Tom. That worthy young man had served his purpose, and could never +again be a factor in Dic's life or courtship. Mrs. Bays received Dic +coldly; but Mr. Bays, in a half-timid manner, was very cordial. Dic paid +no heed to the coldness, and, after talking on the porch with the family +for a few minutes, boldly asked Rita to walk across the yard to the log +by the river. Rita gave her mother a frightened glance and hurried away +with Dic before Justice could assert itself, and the happy pair sought +the beloved sycamore divan by the river bank. + +"In the midst of all my happiness," began Rita, "I'm very unhappy +because I, in place of Patsy Clark, did not liberate you. I always +intended to tell the truth. You must have known that I would." + +"I never even hoped that you would not. I knew that when the time should +come you would not obey me," returned Dic. + +"In all else, Dic, in all else." There was the sweet, all-conquering +humility of which Billy had spoken. + +"In all else, Rita? Do you mean what you say?" + +"Yes." + +"I will put you to the test at once. For your sake and my own I should +go with Sampson to New York, and I want you to release me from my +promise. I would not ask you did I not feel that it is an opportunity +such as I may never have again. It is now July; I shall be back by the +middle of November, and then, Rita, you will go home with me, won't +you?" For answer the girl gently put her hand in his. "And you will +release me from my promise?" + +She nodded her head, and after a short silence added: "I fear I have no +will of my own. I borrow all from you. I cannot say 'no' when you wish +'yes'; I cannot say 'yes' when you wish 'no.' I fear you will despise +me, I am so cheap; but I am as I am, and it is your fault that I have so +many faults. You have made me what I am. Will it not be wonderful, Dic, +if I, who clung to your finger in my babyhood, should be led by your +hand from my cradle to--to my grave? I have never in all my life, Dic, +known any real help but yours--and some from Billy Little. So you see my +dependence upon you is excusable, and you cannot think less of me +because I am so weak." She looked up to him with a tearful smile in +which the past and the future contributed each its touch of sadness. + +"Rita, come to the house this instant!" called Mrs. Bays (to Dic her +voice sounded like a broken string in Billy Little's piano). + +Dic and Rita went to the house, and Mrs. Bays, pointing majestically to +a chair, said to her daughter:-- + +"Now, you sit there, and if you move, off to bed you go." The threat was +all-sufficient. + +Dic sat upon the edge of the porch thinking of St. George and the +dragon, and tried to work his courage up to the point of attack. He +talked ramblingly for a while to Mr. Bays; then, believing his courage +in proper form, he turned to that gentleman's better nine-tenths and +boldly began:-- + +"I want Rita, Mrs. Bays. I know I am not worthy of her" (here the girl +under discussion flashed a luminous glance of flat contradiction at the +speaker), "and I know I am asking a great deal, but--but--" But the +boldness had evaporated along with the remainder of what he had to say, +for with Dic's first words Justice dropped her knitting to her lap, took +off her glasses, and gazed at the unfortunate malefactor with an +injured, fixed, and icy stare. Dic retired in disorder; but he soon +rallied his forces and again took up the battle. + +"I'm going to New York in a few days," he said. "I will not be home till +November. I have Rita's promise. I can, if I must, be satisfied with +that; but I should like your consent before I go." Brave words, those, +to the dragoness of Justice. But she did not even look at the +presumptuous St. George. She was, as Justice should be, blind. Likewise +she appeared to be deaf. + +"May I have your consent, Mr. Bays?" asked Dic, after a long pause, +turning to Rita's father. + +"Yes," he replied, "yes, Dic, I will be glad--" Justice at the moment +recovered sight and hearing, and gazed stonily at its mate. The mate, +after a brief pause, continued in a different tone:-- + +"That is, I don't care. You and mother fix it between you. I don't know +anything about such matters." Mr. Bays leaned forward with his elbows on +his knees and examined his feet as if he had just discovered them. After +a close scrutiny he continued:-- + +"Rita's the best girl that ever lived. I don't care where you look, +there's not another like her in all the world. She has never caused me a +moment of pain--" Rita moved her chair to her father's side and took his +hand--"she has brought me nothing but happiness, and I would--" He +ceased speaking, and no one has ever known what Mr. Bays "would," for at +that interesting point in his remarks his worthy spouse interrupted +him-- + +"Nothing brings you pain. You shirk it and throw it all on me. Lord +knows the girl has brought trouble enough to me. I have toiled and +worked and suffered for her. I bear the burdens of this house, and if my +daughter is better than other girls,--I don't say she is, and I don't +say she isn't,--but if she is better than other girls, I say it is +because I have done my duty by her." + +Truth compels me to admit that she had done her duty toward the girl +with a strenuous sincerity that often amounted to cruelty, but in the +main she had done her best for Rita. + +Dic had unintentionally turned the tide of battle on Mr. Bays, and that +worthy sufferer, long used to the anguish of defeat, and dead to the +shame of cowardice, rose from his chair and beat a hasty retreat to his +old-time sanctuary, the barn. Dic did not retreat; single-handed and +alone, he took lance in hand and renewed the attack with adroit thrusts +of flattery and coaxing. After many bouts a compromise was reached and +an armistice declared between the belligerent powers until Dic should +return from New York. This armistice was virtually a surrender of the +Bays forces, so that evening when Dic started home Rita accompanied him +to the gate beneath the dark shadow of a drooping elm, and the gate's +the place for "a' that and a' that." + +Next morning bright and early Dic went to town to see Sampson, the +horse-dealer. He found him sitting on the inn porch. + +"Well, you're going to take the horses for me, after all?" asked that +worthy descendant of one of the tribes. + +"Billy Little said you would give me five hundred dollars. That is a +very large sum. You first offered me only one hundred." + +"Yes," returned Sampson; "I had a talk with Little. Horses are in great +demand in New York, and I want an intelligent man who can hurry the +drove through to Harrisburg, where I'll meet them. If we get them to New +York in advance of the other dealers, we should make a profit of one +hundred dollars a head on every good horse. You will have two other men +with you, but I will put you in charge. Don't speak of the five hundred +dollars you're to have; the others are to receive only fifty dollars +each." + +The truth is, Billy had contributed four hundred dollars of the sum Dic +was to receive, and four hundred dollars was one-tenth of all Billy's +worldly goods. + +Dic completed his arrangements with Sampson, which included the +privilege of taking twenty horses on his own account, and then, as +usual, went to see Billy Little. + +"Well, Billy Little," said Dic, joyfully, "I'm going. I've closed with +Sampson. He gives me five hundred dollars, and allows me to take twenty +horses of my own. I ought to get fine young horses at twenty-five +dollars a head." + +"Sure," answered Billy, "that would amount to--how many have you of your +own?" + +"Four," answered Dic. + +"Then you'll want to buy sixteen--four hundred dollars. Here is the +money," and he handed him a canvas shot-bag containing the gold. + +"Now, Billy Little," said Dic, "I want to give you my note for this +money, bearing the highest rate of interest." + +"All right," responded our backwoods usurer, "I'll charge you twelve per +cent. I do love a good interest. There is no Antonio about me. I'll lend +no money gratis and bring down the rate of usance. Not I." + +The note signed, Dic looked upon himself as an important factor in the +commercial world, and felt his obligation less because of the high rate +of interest he was paying. + +The young man at once began looking for horses, and within three days +had purchased sixteen "beauties," as Billy Little called them, which, +with his own, made up the number he was to take. His adventurous New +York trip raised him greatly in the estimation of Mrs. Bays. It brought +her to realize that he was a man, and it won, in a degree, her reluctant +respect. The ride over the mountains through rain and mud and countless +dangers was an adventure worthy to inspire respect. The return would be +easier than the eastward journey. Dic would return from New York to +Pittsburg by canal boat and stage. From Pittsburg, if the river should +be open, he would go to Madison by the Ohio boats. From Madison he would +come north to Columbus on the mail stage, and at Columbus he would be +within twenty-five miles of home. + +As I have told you, Mrs. Bays grew to respect Dic; and being willing to +surrender, save for the shame of defeat, she honestly kept the terms of +her armistice. Thus Rita and Dic enjoyed the sycamore divan by the +river's edge without interference. + +On the night before his departure he gave Rita the ring, saying, "This +time it is for keeps." + +"I hope so," returned the girl, with a touch of doubt in her hesitating +words. + +He spoke buoyantly of his trip and of the great things that were sure to +come out of it, and again Rita softly hoped so; but intimated in a +gentle, complaining tone of voice that something told her trouble would +come from the expedition. She felt that she was being treated badly, +though, being such a weak, selfish, unworthy person,--so she had been +taught by her mother to believe,--she deserved nothing better. Dic +laughed at her fears, and told her she was the one altogether perfect +human being. Although by insistence he brought her to admit that he was +right in both propositions, he failed to convince her in either, and she +spoke little, save in eloquent sighs, during the remainder of the +evening. + +After the eventful night of Scott's social, Rita's surrender of self had +grown in its sweetness hour by hour; and although Dic's love had also +deepened, as his confidence grew apace he assumed an air of patronage +toward the girl which she noticed, but which she considered quite the +proper thing in all respects. + +There was no abatement of his affection this last evening together, but +she was sorry to see him so joyful at leaving her. Their situation was +simply a repetition of the world-wide condition: the man with many +motives and ambitions, the woman with one--love. + +After Dic had, for the twentieth time, said he must be going, the girl +whispered:-- + +"I fear you will carry away with you the memory of a dull evening, but +I could not talk, I could not. Oh, Dic--" Thereupon she began to weep, +and Dic, though pained, found a certain selfish joy in comforting her, +compared to which the conversation of Madame de Staël herself would have +been poor and commonplace. Then came the gate, a sweet face wet with +tears, and good-by and good-by and good-by. + +Dic went home joyful. Rita went to her room weeping. It pained him to +leave her, but it grieved her far more deeply, and she began then to pay +the penalty of her great crime in being a woman. + +Do not from the foregoing remark conclude that Dic was selfish in his +lack of pain at parting from Rita. He also lacked her fears. Did the +fear exist in her and not in him because her love was greater or because +she was more timid? Had her abject surrender made him over-confident? +When a woman gives as Rita did she should know her man, else she is in +danger. If he happens to be a great, noble soul, she makes her heaven +and his then and there. If he is a selfish brute, she will find another +place of which we all stand in wholesome dread. + + + + +A CHRISTMAS HEARTH LOG + +CHAPTER VIII + +A CHRISTMAS HEARTH LOG + + +On the morning of Dic's departure, Billy Little advised him to invest +the proceeds of his expedition in goods at New York, and to ship them to +Madison. + +"You see," said Billy, "you will make your profit going and coming, and +you will have a nice lump of gold when you return. Gold means Rita, and +Rita means happiness and ploughing." + +"Not ploughing, Billy Little," interrupted Dic. + +"We'll see what we will see," replied Billy. "Here is a list of goods I +advise you to buy, and the name of a man who will sell them to you at +proper prices. You can trust him. He wouldn't cheat even a friend. +Good-by, Dic. Write to me. Of course you will write to Rita?" + +"Indeed I shall," replied Dic in a tone expressive of the fact that he +was a fine, true fellow, and would perform that pleasant duty with +satisfaction to himself and great happiness to the girl. You see, Dic's +great New York journey had caused him to feel his importance a bit. + +"I wish you would go up to see her very often," continued our confident +young friend; "if I do say it myself, she will miss me greatly. When I +return, she shall go home with me. Mrs. Bays has almost given her +consent. You will go often, won't you, Billy Little? Next to me, I +believe she loves you best of all the world." + +Billy watched Dic ride eastward on the Michigan road, and muttered to +himself:-- + +"'Next to me'; there is no next, you young fool." Then he went in to his +piano and caressed the keys till they yielded their ineffable sweetness +in the half-sad tones of Handel's "Messiah"; afterward, to lift his +spirits, they gave him a glittering sonata from Mozart. But it is better +to feel than to think. It is sweeter to weep than to laugh. So when he +was tired of the classics, he played over and over again, in weird, +minor, improvised variations, his love of loves, "Annie Laurie," and +tears came to his eyes because he was both happy and sad. The keys +seemed to whisper to him, so gently did he touch them, and their tones +fell, not upon his ears, but upon his heart, with a soothing pathos like +the sough of an old song or a sweet, forgotten odor of a day that is +past. + +Billy did his best to console Rita, though it was a hopeless task and +full of peril for him. There was but one topic of interest to her. Rome +and Greece were dull. What cared she about the Romans? Dic was not a +Roman. Conversation upon books wearied her, and subjects that a few +months ago held her rapt attention, now threw her into revery. I am +sorry to say she was a silly, love-lorn young woman, and not in the +least entitled to the respect of strong-minded persons. I would not +advise you, my dear young girl, to assume Rita's faults; but if you +should do so, many a good, though misguided man will mistake them for +virtues and will fall at your feet. You will not deceive your sisters; +but you won't care much for their opinion. + + * * * * * + +Soon after Dic's departure, Jim Fisher, Mrs. Bays's brother, renewed his +offer to take Mr. Bays as a partner in the Indianapolis store. The offer +was a good one and was honestly made. Fisher needed more capital, and to +that extent his motive was selfish; but the business was prosperous, and +he could easily have found a partner. + +One Saturday evening he came up to talk over the matter with his +brother-in-law. He took with him to Blue no less a person than Roger +Williams--not the original, redoubtable Roger who discovered Rhode +Island, but a descendant of his family. Williams was a man of +twenty-five. Boston was his home, and he was the son of a father +Williams who manufactured ploughs, spades, wagons, and other +agricultural implements. The young man was his father's western +representative, and Fisher sold his goods in the Indianapolis district. +He dressed well and was affable with his homespun friends. In truth, he +was a gentleman. He made himself at home in the cabin; but he had brains +enough to respect and not to patronize the good people who dwelt +therein. + +Of course it will be useless for me to pretend that this young fellow +did not fall in love with Rita. If I had been responsible for his going +to Blue, you would be justified in saying that I brought him there for +the purpose of furnishing a rival to Dic; but I had nothing to do with +his going or loving, and take this opportunity to proclaim my innocence +of all such responsibility. He came, he stayed till Tuesday, and was +conquered. He came again two weeks later, and again, and still again. He +saw, but did he conquer? That is the great question this history is to +answer. Meantime Dic was leading a drove of untamed horses all day long, +and was sleeping sometimes at a wretched inn, sometimes in the pitiless +storm, and sometimes he was chasing stampeded horses for forty-eight +hours at a stretch without sleeping or eating. But when awake he thought +of Rita, and when he slept he dreamed of her, though in his dreams there +was no handsome city man, possessed of a fine house, servants, and +carriages, sitting by her side. Had that fact been revealed to him in a +dream, the horses might have stampeded to Jericho for all he would have +cared, and he would have stampeded home to look after more important +interests. + +But to return to Fisher's visits. After supper, Saturday evening, the +question of the new store came up. + +Fisher said: "If you can raise three thousand dollars, Tom, you may have +a half-interest in the business. I have three thousand dollars now +invested, and have credit for an additional three thousand with Mr. +Williams. If we had six thousand dollars, we may have credit for six +thousand more, twelve thousand in all, and we can easily turn our stock +twice a year. Tom, it's the chance of your life. Don't you think it is, +Margarita?" + +"It looks that way, Jim," said Mrs. Bays; "but we haven't the three +thousand dollars, and we must think it over carefully and prayerfully." + +"Can't you sell the farm or mortgage it?" suggested Fisher. Tom, Jr., +gazed intently into the tree-tops, and, in so doing, led the others to +ask what he was seeking. There was nothing unusual to be seen among the +trees, and Mrs. Bays inquired:-- + +"What on earth are you looking for, Tom?" + +"I was looking to see if there was anybody roosting up there, waiting to +buy this half-cleared old stump field." + +"Tom's right," said his father. "I fear a purchaser will be hard to +find, and I don't know any one who would loan me three thousand dollars. +If we can find the money, we'll try it. What do you say, Margarita?" +Mrs. Bays was still inclined to be careful and prayerful. + +Since Rita had expressed to Billy Little her desire to remove to +Indianapolis (on the day she bought the writing paper, which, by the +way, she had never paid for) so vast a change had taken place within +herself that she had changed her way of seeing nearly everything +outside. Especially had she changed the point of view from which she saw +the Indianapolis project, and she was now quite content to grow up "a +ragweed or a mullein stalk," if she could grow in Dic's fields, and be +cared for by his hand. I believe that when a woman loves a strong man +and contemplates marriage with him, as she is apt to do, a comforting +sense of his protecting care is no small part of her emotions. She may +not consider the matter of her daily bread and raiment, but she feels +that in the harbor of his love she will be safe from the manifold storms +and harms that would otherwise beset her. + +Owing to Rita's great change the conversation on the porch was fraught +with a terrible interest. While the others talked, she, as in duty +bound,--girls were to be seen and not heard in those days,--remained +silent. Fortunately the fact that she was a girl did not preclude +thinking. That she did plenteously, and all lines of thought led to the +same question, "How will it affect Dic?" She could come to no +conclusion. Many times she longed to speak, but dared not; so she shut +her lips and her mind and determined to postpone discussing the question +with herself till she should be in bed where she could think quietly. +Meanwhile Williams seated himself beside her on the edge of the porch +and rejoiced over this beautiful rose he had found in the wilderness. +She being a simple country flower, he hoped to enjoy her fragrance for a +time without much trouble in the plucking, and it looked as though his +task would be an easy one. At first the girl was somewhat frightened at +his grandeur; but his easy, chatty conversation soon dispelled her +shyness, and she found him entertaining. He at first sight was charmed +by her beauty. He quickly discovered that her nose, chin, lips, +forehead, and complexion were faultless, and as for those wonderful +eyes, he could hardly draw his own away from them, even for a moment. +But after he had talked with her he was still more surprised to find her +not only bright, but educated, in a rambling way, to a degree little +expected in a frontier girl. + +Williams was a Harvard man, and when he discovered that the girl by his +side could talk on subjects other than bucolic, and that she could +furthermore listen to him intelligently, he branched into literature, +art, travel, and kindred topics. She enjoyed hearing him talk, and +delighted him now and then with an apt reply. So much did her voice +charm him that he soon preferred it even to his own, and he found +himself concluding that this was not a wild forest rose at all, but a +beautiful domestic flower, worthy of care in the plucking. They had +several little tilts in the best of humor that confirmed Williams in the +growing opinion that the girl's beauty and strength were not all +physical. He talked much about Boston and its culture, and spoke +patronizingly of that unfortunate portion of the world's people who did +not enjoy the advantage of living within the sacred walls. Although Rita +knew that his boast was not all vain, and that his city deserved its +reputation, she laughed softly and said in apparent seriousness:-- + +"It is almost an education even to meet a person from Boston." + +Williams looked up in surprise. He had not suspected that sarcasm could +lurk behind those wonderful eyes, but he was undeceived by her remark, +and answered laughingly:-- + +"That is true, Miss Bays." + +"Boston has much to be proud of," continued the girl, surprised and +somewhat frightened at the rate she was bowling along. She had never +before talked so freely to any one but Billy Little and Dic. "Yes, all +good comes out of Boston. I've been told that if you hear her church +bells toll, your soul is saved. There is a saving grace in their very +tones. It came over in the _Mayflower_, as you might transport yeast. If +you walk through Harvard, you will be wise; if you stand on Bunker Hill, +treason flees your soul forever; and if you once gaze upon the Common, +you are safe from the heresy of the Quaker and the sin of witchcraft." + +"I fear you are making a jest of Boston, Miss Bays," replied Williams, +who shared the sensitiveness peculiar to his people. + +"No," she replied, "I jest only at your boasting. Your city is all you +claim for it; but great virtue needs no herald." + +Williams remained silent for a moment, and then said, "Have you ever +been in Boston?" + +"I? Indeed, no," she answered laughingly. "I've never been any place but +to church and once to a Fourth of July picnic. I was once at a church +social, but it brought me into great trouble and I shall never go to +another." Williams was amused and again remained, for a time, in silent +meditation. She did not interrupt him, and at length he spoke +stammeringly:-- + +"Pardon me--where did you learn--how comes it--I am speaking abruptly, +but one would suppose you had travelled and enjoyed many advantages that +you certainly could not have here." + +"You greatly overestimate me, Mr. Williams. I have only a poor +smattering of knowledge which I absorbed from two friends who are really +educated men,--Mr. Little and Dic--Mr. Bright!" + +"Are they old--elderly men?" asked Williams. + +"One is," responded Rita. + +"Which one?" he asked. + +"Mr. Little." + +"And the other--Mr. Bright--is he young?" asked the inquisitive +Bostonian. There was no need for Rita to answer in words. The color in +her cheeks and the radiance of her eyes told plainly enough that Mr. +Bright _was_ young. But she replied with a poor assumption of +indifference:-- + +"I think he is nearly five years older than I." There was another +betrayal of an interesting fact. She measured his age by hers. + +"And that would make him--?" queried Williams. + +"Twenty-two--nearly." + +"Are you but seventeen?" he asked. Rita nodded her head and answered:-- + +"Shamefully young, isn't it? I used to be sensitive about my extreme +youth and am still a little so, but--but it can't be helped." Williams +laughed, and thought he had never met so charming a girl. + +"Yes," he answered, "it is more or less a disgrace to be so young, but +it is a fault easily overlooked." He paused for a moment while he +inspected the heavens, and continued, still studying astronomy: "I mean +it is not easily overlooked in some cases. Sometimes it is 'a monster of +such awful mien' that one wishes to jump clear over the enduring and the +pitying, and longs to embrace." + +"We often see beautiful sunsets from this porch," answered Rita, "and I +believe one is forming now." There was not a society lady in Boston who +could have handled the situation more skilfully; and Williams learned +that if he would flatter this young girl of the wilderness, he must +first serve his probation. She did not desire his flattery, and gave him +to understand as much at the outset. She found him interesting and +admired him. He was the first man of his type she had ever met. In the +matter of education he was probably not far in advance of Dic, and +certainly was very far arrear of Billy Little. But he had a certain +polish which comes only from city life. Billy had that polish, but it +was of the last generation, was very English, and had been somewhat +dimmed by friction with the unpolished surfaces about him. Dic's polish +was that of a rare natural wood. + +As a result of these conditions, Rita and Williams walked up the river +on the following afternoon--Sunday. More by accident than design they +halted at the step-off and rested upon the same rocky knoll where she +and Dic were sitting when Doug Hill hailed them from the opposite bank +of the river. The scene was crowded with memories, and the girl's heart +was soon filled with Dic, while her thoughts were busy with the events +of that terrible day. Nothing that Williams might say could interest +her, and while he talked she listened but did not hear, for her mind was +far away, and she longed to be alone. + +One would suppose that the memory of the day she shot Doug Hill would +have been filled with horror for her, but it was not. This gentle girl, +who would not willingly have killed a worm, and to whom the sight of +suffering brought excruciating pain, had not experienced a pang of +regret because of the part she had been called upon to play in the +tragedy of the step-off. When Doug was lying between life and death, she +hoped he would recover; but no small part of her interest in the result +was because of its effect upon Dic and herself. Billy Little had once +expressed surprise at this callousness, but she replied with a touch of +warmth:-- + +"I did right, Billy Little. Even mother admits that. I saved Dic's life +and my own honor. I would do it again. I am sorry I _had_ it to do, but +I am glad, oh so glad, that I had strength to do it. God helped me, or I +could never have fired the shot. You may laugh, Billy Little--I know +your philosophy leads you to believe that God never does things of that +sort--but I know better. You know a great deal more than I about +everything else, but in this instance I am wiser than you. I know God +gave me strength at the moment when I most needed it. That moment taught +me a lesson that some persons never learn. It taught me that God will +always give me strength at the last moment of my need, if I ask it of +Him, as I asked that day." + +"He gave it to you when you were born, Rita," said Billy. + +"No," she replied, "I am weak as a kitten, and always shall be, unless I +get my strength from Him." + +"Well," said Billy, meaning no irreverence, "if He would not give to +you, He would not give to any one." + +"Ah, Billy Little," said the girl, pleased by the compliment--you see +her pleasure in a compliment depended on the maker of it--"you think +every one admires me as much as you do." Billy knew that was impossible, +but for obvious reasons did not explain the true situation. + +Other small matters served to neutralize the horror Rita might otherwise +have felt. The affair at the step-off had been freely talked about by +her friends in her presence, and the thought of it had soon become +familiar to her; but the best cure was her meeting with Doug Hill a +fortnight after the trial. It occurred on the square in the town of Blue +River. She saw Doug coming toward her, and was so shaken by emotions +that she feared she could not stand, but she recovered herself when he +said in his bluff manner:-- + +"Rita, I don't want to have no more fights with you. You're too quick on +trigger for Doug. But I want to tell you I don't hold no grudge agin' +you. You did jes' right. You orter a-killed me, but I'm mighty glad you +didn't. That shot of your'n was the best sermon I ever had preached to +me. I hain't tasted a drap of liquor since that day, and I never will. +I'm goin' to start to Illinoy to-morrow, and I'm goin' to get married +and be a man. Better marry me, Rita, and go along." + +"I'm sure you will be a man, Doug," responded Rita. "I don't believe I +want to get married, but--but will you shake hands with me?" + +"Bet I will, Rita. Mighty glad to. You've the best pluck of any girl on +yarth, with all you're so mild and kitten-like, and the purtiest girl, +too--yes, by gee, the purtiest girl in all the world. Everybody says so, +Rita." Rita blushed, and began to move away from his honest flattery, so +Doug said:-- + +"Well, good-by. Tell Dic good-by, and tell him I don't hold no grudge +agin' him neither. Hope he don't agin' me. He ortent to. He's got lots +the best of it--he won the fight and got you. Gee, I'd 'a' been glad to +lose the fight if I could 'a' got you." + +Thus it happened that these two, who had last met with death between +them, parted as friends. Doug started for Illinois next day; and now he +drops out of this history. + +I have spoken thus concerning Rita's feeling about the shooting of Doug +Hill to show you how easy it was for her, while sitting beside Williams +that placid Sunday afternoon, to break in upon his interesting +conversation with the irrelevant remark:-- + +"I once shot a man near this spot." + +For a moment or two one might have supposed she had just shot Williams. +He sprang to his feet as if he intended to run from her, but at once +resumed his place, saying:-- + +"Miss Bays, your humor always surprises me. It takes me unawares. Of +course you are jesting." + +"Indeed, I am not. I have told you the truth. You will hear it sooner or +later if you remain on Blue. It is the one great piece of neighborhood +history since the Indians left. It is nothing to boast of. I simply +state it as a fact,--a lamentable fact, I suppose I should say. But I +don't feel that way about it at all." + +"Did you kill him?" asked the astonished Bostonian. + +"No, I'm glad to say he lived; but that was not my fault. I tried to +kill him. He now lives in Illinois." + +Williams looked at her doubtingly, and still feared she was hoaxing him. +He could not bring himself to believe there dwelt within the breast of +the gentle girl beside him a spirit that would give her strength to do +such a deed under any conditions. Never had he met a woman in whom the +adorable feminine weaknesses were more pronounced. She was a coward. He +had seen her run, screaming in genuine fright, from a ground squirrel. +She was meek and unresisting, to the point of weakness. He had seen her +endure unprovoked anger and undeserved rebuke from her mother, and +intolerable slights from Tom, that would surely have aroused retaliation +had there been a spark of combativeness in her gentle heart. That she +was tender and loving could be seen in every glance of her eyes, in +every feature of her face, in every tone of her soft, musical voice. +Surely, thought Williams, the girl could not kill a mouse. Where, then, +would she find strength to kill a man? But she told him, in meagre +outline, her story, and he learned that a great, self-controlled, modest +strength nestled side by side with ineffable gentleness in the heart of +this young girl; and that was the moment of Roger Williams's undoing, +and the beginning of Rita's woe. Prior to that moment he had believed +himself her superior; but, much to his surprise, he found that Roger +occupied second place in his own esteem, while a simple country girl, +who had never been anywhere but to church, a Fourth of July picnic, and +one church social, with his full consent quietly occupied first. This +girl, he discovered, was a living example of what unassisted nature can +do when she tries. All this change in Williams had been wrought in an +instant when he learned that the girl had shot a man. She was the only +woman of his acquaintance who could boast that distinction. + +What was the mental or moral process that had led him to his +conclusions? We all know there is a fascination about those who have +lived through a moment of terrible ordeal and have been equal to its +demands. But do we know by what process their force operates upon us? +We are fascinated by a noted duellist who has killed his score of men. +We are drawn by a certain charm that lurks in his iron nerve and gleams +from his cold eyes. The toreador has his way with the Spanish dons and +señoritas alike. The high-rope dancer and the trapeze girl attract us by +a subtle spell. Is it an unlabelled force in nature? I can but ask the +question. I do not pretend to answer. + +Whatever the force may be, Rita possessed it; and, linked with her +gentleness and beauty, its charm was irresistible. + +Here, at last, was the rich man from the city who could give Rita the +fine mansion, carriages, and servants she deserved. Now that these great +benefactions were at her feet, would Dic be as generous as when he told +Billy Little that Rita was not for him, but for one who could give her +these? Would he unselfishly forego his claim to make her great, and +perhaps happy? Great love in a great heart has often done as much, +permitting the world to know nothing of the sacrifice. I have known a +case where even the supposed beneficiary was in ignorance of the real +motive. Perhaps Billy Little could have given us light upon a similar +question, and perhaps the beneficiary did not benefit by the mistaken +generosity, save in the poor matter of gold and worldly eminence; and +perhaps it brought years of dull heartache to both beneficiary and +benefactor, together with hours of longing and conscience-born shame +upon two sinless hearts. + +After Rita had told her story, Roger's chatty style of conversation +suddenly ceased. He made greater efforts to please than before, but the +effort seemed to impair his power of pleasing. Rita, longing to be +alone, had resolved many times to return to the house, but before acting +upon that resolve she heard a voice calling, "Rita!" and a moment +afterward a pair of bright blue eyes, a dimpled rosy face, and a plump +little form constructed upon the partridge model came in sight and +suddenly halted. + +"Oh, excuse me," said our little wood-nymph friend, Sukey Yates. "I did +not know I was intruding. Your mother said you had come in this +direction, and I followed." + +"You are not intruding," replied Rita. "Come and sit by me. Mr. +Williams, Miss Yates." + +Miss Yates bowed and blushed, stammered a word or two, and sat by Rita +on the rocky bench. She was silent and shy for a moment, but Williams +easily loosened her tongue and she went off like a magpie. Billy used to +say that Sukey was the modern incarnation of the ancient and immortal +"Chatterbox." + +After Sukey's arrival, Rita could be alone, and an hour passed before +she returned to the house. + +That evening Billy Little took supper with Mrs. Bays, and Rita, +considering Williams her father's guest, spent most of the evening on +the sycamore log with the bachelor heart. + +"Dic gave me the ring again," she said, holding out her hand for +inspection. Billy took the hand and held it while he said:-- + +"It's pretty there--pretty, pretty." + +"Yes," she responded, looking at the back of her hand, "it's very +pretty. It was good of you--but you need not be frightened; I'm not +going to thank you. Where do you suppose he is at this moment?" + +"I don't know," answered Billy. "I suppose he's between Pittsburg and +New York." + +"I had a letter from him at Pittsburg two weeks ago," said Rita; "but I +have heard nothing since. His work must be very hard. He has no time to +think of me." + +"He probably finds a moment now and then for that purpose," laughed +Billy. + +"Oh, I don't mean that he doesn't think of me! Of course he does that +all the time. I mean that he must have little time for writing." + +"You must feel very sure of him when you say he thinks of you all the +time. How often have you thought of him since he left?" asked Billy. + +"Once," replied the girl, smiling and blushing. + +"Do you mean all the time?" queried Billy. + +She nodded her head. "Yes, all the time. Oh, Billy Little, you won't +mind if I tell you about it, will you? I must speak--and there is no one +else." + +"What is it you want to say, Rita?" he asked softly. + +"I hardly know--perhaps it is the great change that has taken place +within me since the night of Scott's social and the afternoon I shot +Doug Hill. I seem to be hundreds of years older. I must have been a +child before that night." + +"You are a child now, Rita." + +"Oh, no," she replied, "trouble matures one." + +"But you are not in trouble?" + +"N-o--" she answered hesitatingly, "but--but this is what I want to say. +Tell me, Billy Little, do you think anything can come between Dic and +me? That is the thought that haunts me all the time and makes me +unhappy." + +"Do you feel sure of Dic?" asked Billy. + +"Indeed, I do," she replied; "I am as sure of him as I am of myself." + +"How about that fellow in there?" asked Billy, pointing toward the house +with his thumb. + +"How? In what way?" inquired the girl. + +"Don't you find him interesting?" asked Billy. + +For reply she laughed softly. The question was not worth answering. The +bachelor heart had felt a strong twinge of jealousy on Williams's +account, because it knew that with wealth, an attractive person, and +full knowledge of the world, Williams would, in the long run, prove a +dangerous rival to any man who was not upon the field. The fact that +Rita dismissed him with a laugh did not entirely reassure the bachelor +heart. It told only what was already known, that she loved Dic with all +the intensity of her nature. But Billy also knew that many a girl with +such a love in her heart for one man had married another. Rita, he +feared, could not stand against the domineering will of her mother; and, +should Williams ply his suit, Billy felt sure he would have a stubborn, +potent ally in the hard Chief Justice. There was, of course, an "if," +but it might easily be turned into a terrible "is"--terrible for Billy, +Dic, and Rita. Billy had grown used to the thought that Rita would some +day become Dic's wife, and after the first spasm of pain the thought had +brought joy; but any other man than Dic was a different proposition, and +Billy's jealousy was easily and painfully aroused. He endured a species +of vicarious suffering while Dic was not present to suffer for himself. +Soon he began to long for Dic's return that he might do his own +suffering. + +Billy's question concerning Williams had crystallized Rita's feeling +that the "fellow in there" was "making up" to her, and when she returned +to the house that evening, she had few words for Roger. + +Monday Rita was unusually industrious during the day, but the evening +seemed long. She was not uncivil to her father's guest, but she did not +sit by him on the edge of the porch as she had done upon the first +evening of his visit. He frequently came to her side, but she as +frequently made an adroit excuse to leave him. She did not dislike him, +but she had found him growing too attentive. This girl was honest from +the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and longed to let Williams +understand that she was the property of another man to whom she would be +true in the spirit and in the letter. + +Tuesday morning the guests departed. Mrs. Bays urgently invited Williams +to return, and he, despite Rita's silence, assured his hostess that he +would accept her invitation. The Indianapolis project had been agreed +upon, provided Bays could raise the money. If that could be done, the +new firm would begin operations January first. That afternoon Rita went +to the step-off and looked the Indianapolis situation in the face. It +stared back at her without blinking, and she could evolve no plans to +evade it. Dic would return in November--centuries off--and she felt sure +he would bring help. Until then, Indianapolis, with the figures of her +mother and Williams in the background, loomed ominously before her +vision. + +Williams's second visit was made ostensibly to Rita's father. The third, +two weeks later, was made openly to her father's daughter. It was +preceded by an ominous letter to Rita requesting the privilege of making +the visit to her. Rita wished to answer at once by telling him that she +could not receive him, but Rita's mother thought differently. + +"Say to him," commanded Mrs. Bays, "that you will be pleased to see him. +He is a fine young man with a true religious nature. I find that he has +been brought up by a God-fearing mother. I would not have you receive +him because he is rich, but that fact is nothing against him. I can't +for the life of me understand what he sees in you, but if he--" she +stopped speaking, and her abrupt silence was more emphatic than any +words could have been. Rita saw at once the drift of her mother's +intentions and trembled. + +"But I would not be pleased to see him, mother," the girl responded +pleadingly; "and if I write to him that I would, I should be telling a +lie." + +"I tell a lie," cried the stern old woman in apparent anguish. "Oh, my +heart!" She sank to a chair, and gasping between her words, continued, +"Oh, that I should have lived to be told by my own child that I'm a +liar!" Her head fell backward, and one would have supposed dissolution +near. Mr. Bays ran to fetch a cup of water, and Rita stood in deep +trouble by her mother's side fanning her. "A liar! a liar!" moaned the +dying woman. + +"I did not say that, mother. I said--" + +"A liar! yes, I'm a liar. My own daughter that I have loved and +cherished in my own bosom, and have toiled and suffered for all my life, +says I'm a liar." + +"Mother, I protest, dear mother, hear me," began Rita, but mother +interrupted her by closing her eyes and supposedly her ears as if she +were on the point of passing over. The only signs of life in the old +woman were her gasps for breath. The girl, who had no deceit in her +heart, could not recognize it in others, least of all was she able to +see it in her own mother, whose transcendent virtues had been dinned +into her ears ever since she had possessed those useful organs. Out of +her confiding trustfulness came a deadly fear for her mother's life. She +fell on her knees and cried: "Forgive me, mother dear, forgive me. I was +wrong. I'll write whatever you wish." + +This surrender, I know, was weak in our heroine; but her words restored +her mother to life and health, and Rita rejoiced that she had seen her +duty and had performed it in time. + +Justice was soon again in equilibrium, and Rita, amid a flood of tears, +wrote to Williams, "I shall be pleased to see you," and he came. + +She did not treat him cordially, though she was not uncivil, and +Williams thought her reticence was due to modesty,--a mistake frequently +made by self-sufficient men. The girl felt that she was bound by her +letter, and that she could not in justice mistreat him. It was by her +invitation he had come. He could not know that she had been forced to +write the letter, and she could not blame him for acting upon it. She +was relieved that he attempted no flattery, and felt that surely her +lack of cordiality would prevent another visit. But she was mistaken. He +was not a man easily rebuffed. + +A fortnight later Mrs. Bays announced to her daughter the receipt of a +letter from Mr. Williams, stating that he would be on hand next Saturday +evening. + +"He is trying to induce his father to loan us the money," said Mrs. +Bays, "and your father and I want you to be particularly kind to him. +Your father and I have suffered and worked and toiled for you all your +life. Now you can help us, and you shall do so." + +"Mother, I can't receive him. I can't talk to him. It will be wicked. It +would not be honest; I can't, I can't," sobbed poor Rita. "I don't know +much, but I know it is wrong for me to receive visits from Mr. Williams +when there can be nothing between--between--" + +"Why can't there be anything between you and Williams, girl? Why?" +demanded Mrs. Bays. + +"There are many reasons, mother," returned the weeping girl, "even if it +were not for Dic--" + +"Dic!" screamed the old woman, and an attack of heart trouble at once +ensued, when Rita was again called upon to save her mother's life. + +Thus Williams came the third time to visit Rita, and showed his +ignorance of womankind by proposing marriage to a girl who was unwilling +to listen. He was promptly but politely rejected, and won the girl's +contempt by asking for her friendship if he could not have her love. The +friendship, of course, was readily granted. She was eager to give that +much to all the world. + +"I hope you will not speak of this, even to your father or mother," said +Williams. "Let it be hereafter as if I had never spoken. I regret that I +did speak." + +Rita gladly consented to comply with his request, since she was certain +heart trouble would ensue, with probably fatal results, should her +mother learn that she had refused the young man with the true religious +nature. + +Williams adroitly regained his ground by exciting Rita's ever ready +sympathy, and hoped to remain in the battle upon the plane of friendship +until another and more favorable opportunity should arise for a +successful attack. His was a tenacious nature that held to a purpose by +hook or by crook till victory crowned his efforts or defeat was +absolute. + +Williams continued to visit Rita, and Dic did not return till Christmas. +During the last month of waiting the girl's patient longing was piteous +to behold. To see her brought grief to Billy's heart, but it angered the +Chief Justice. + +Dic had written that he would be home by the middle of November, and +Rita had counted the days, even the hours, up to that time; but when he +did not arrive as expected, she had not even the poor comfort of +computing time, for she did not know when to expect him. Each day of +longing and fear ended in disappointment and tears, until at last, on +the day before Christmas, she heard from the lips of Sukey Yates that +Dic was at home. There was a touch of disappointment in receiving the +news from Sukey, but the news was so welcome that she was glad to have +it from any one. + +Sukey had ridden over to see Rita. "Why, haven't you seen him yet?" +cried the dimpler, in surprise. "I supposed, of course, he would come +here first--before seeing me. Why, I'm quite proud." + +"No," returned Rita; "I have not seen him." + +"He'll come this evening, I'm sure," said Sukey, patronizingly. "I have +company to-night. He's looking well, though he was sick for three or +four weeks at an inn near Wheeling. His illness caused the delay in +getting home. I just thought he never would come, didn't you?" + +Rita was too happy to be disturbed by insinuations of any kind, and +although she would have liked to be the first person to see Dic, she +paid no heed to Sukey's suggestive remarks. + +"He's as handsome as ever," continued Sukey, "and has a mustache. But +you will see him for yourself this evening. Good-by. I must be going. +Now come over real soon." + +"I will," answered Rita, and Sukey left her musing happily upon the +hearth log. + +Mr. Bays had been in Indianapolis for several days. He had not raised +the three thousand dollars, Williams, Sr., being at that time short of +money. Mrs. Bays and Tom had that evening driven to town to meet the +nominal head of the house. It was two o'clock when Sukey left Rita +gazing into the fire and computing the minutes till evening, when she +knew Dic would be with her. He might possibly come over for supper. + +The weather was cold, and snow had been falling since noon. The sycamore +log was under the snow, and she did not hope to have Dic to herself; but +to have him at all would be joy sufficient, and she would dream of him +until he should come. While dreaming, she turned her face toward the +window to watch the falling snow. She did not see the snow, but instead +saw a man. She did not scream with delight, as I suppose she should have +done; she simply rose to her feet and waited in the fireplace till the +door opened and Dic walked in. She did not go to him, but stood +motionless till he came to her. + +"Are you not glad to see me, Rita?" he asked. He could not see her eyes +in the dark room, or he would have had no need to ask. "Are you not +glad?" he repeated. She did not answer, but taking his face between her +hands drew it down to hers with infinite tenderness and passion. Then, +with her arms about his neck, she spoke the one word, "Glad?" and Dic +knew. + +After she had uttered the big word of one syllable, she buried her face +on his breast and began to weep. + +"Don't cry, Rita," pleaded Dic, "don't cry. I can't bear it." + +"Ah, but let me cry for one little moment," she begged. "It is better +than laughing, and it helps me so much." There was, of course, but one +answer, and Dic, turning up her tear-stained face, replied eloquently. + +After a chaotic period of several minutes they took their childhood's +place upon the hearth log within the warm, bright fireplace. Dic stirred +the fire, and the girl, nestling beside him, said:-- + +"Now tell me everything." + +"Where shall I begin?" asked Dic; and after a pause in which to find a +starting-point, he said:-- + +"I have brought you a little present. I wanted to keep it till +to-morrow--Christmas--but I find I cannot." He produced a small gold +watch with the word "Rita" engraved upon the lid. Rita was delighted; +but after a moment or two of admiration she repeated her request. + +Dic rapidly ran over the events of his trip. He had brought home +twenty-six hundred dollars, and the gold was at that moment in Billy +Little's iron-box. Of the wonders he had seen he would tell her at +leisure. He had received her three letters, and had them in his pocket +in a small leather case purchased expressly to hold them. They had never +left his person. He had been ill at an inn near Wheeling, and was "out +of his head" for three weeks; hence his failure to write during that +time. + +"Yes, Sukey told me you had been ill. I was sorry to learn it. +Especially--especially from her," said the girl, with eyes bent demurely +upon the hearth. + +"Why from her?" asked Dic. + +"Well, from any one," she replied. "I hoped you would come to see me +first. You see, I am a very exacting, jealous, disagreeable person, +Dic, and I wanted you to see me and tell me everything before you should +go to see any one else." + +"Indeed, I would," he returned. "I have come here first." + +"Did you not go around by Sukey's and see her on your way home?" Rita +asked. + +"I did not," replied Dic. "She was in town and rode with mother and me +as far as the Yates cross-path. She heard me telling mother I had been +ill." + +Dic did not tell Rita that Sukey had whispered to him in Billy Little's +store that she, Sukey, had been going to town every day during the last +fortnight in the hope that she might be the first one to see him, and +that she was so wild with joy at his return that she could easily find +it in her heart to kiss him right then and there in full view of a large +and appreciative audience; and that if he would come over Christmas +night when the folks were going to Marion, she would remain at home +and--and would he come? Dic did not mention these small matters, and, in +fact, had forgotten what Sukey had said, not caring a baw-bee how often +she had gone to meet him or any one else, and having no intention to +accept her hospitality Christmas night. Sukey's words had, for a moment, +tickled his vanity,--an easy task for a pretty woman with any man,--but +they had gone no deeper than his vanity, which, in Dic's case, was not +very deep. + + + + +DIC LENDS MONEY GRATIS + +CHAPTER IX + +DIC LENDS MONEY GRATIS + + +Such an hour as our young friends spent upon the ciphering log would +amply compensate for the trouble of living a very long life. +"Everything," as Rita had asked, was told volubly, until Dic, perhaps by +accident, clasped Rita's hand. His failure to do so earlier in the +afternoon had been an oversight; but after the oversight had been +corrected, comparative silence and watching the fire from the ciphering +log proved a sufficiently pleasant pastime, and amply good enough for +them. Good enough! I hope they have fireplaces and ciphering logs, soft, +magnetic hands, and eloquent silence in paradise, else the place will +surely be a failure. + +Snow was falling furiously, and dark winter clouds obscured the sinking +sun, bringing night before its time; and so it happened that Rita did +not see her mother pass the window. The room was dark, save in the +fireplace where Rita and Dic were sitting, illumined by the glow of +hickory embers, and occasionally by a flickering flame that spluttered +from the half-burned back-log. Unexpected and undesired, Mrs. Bays, +followed closely by our friend Williams, entered through the front door. +Dic sprang to his feet, but he was too slow by several seconds, and the +newcomers had ample opportunity to observe his strict attention to the +business in hand. Mrs. Bays bowed stiffly to Dic, and walked to the bed, +where she deposited her wraps. + +Williams approached Rita, who was still seated in the fireplace. She +rose and accepted his proffered hand, forgetting in her confusion to +introduce Dic. Roger's self-composure came to his relief. + +"This must be Mr. Bright," said he, holding out his hand to Dic. "I have +heard a great deal of you from Miss Bays during the last four months. We +heard in town that you had returned. Since Rita will not introduce me, I +will perform that duty for myself. I am Mr. Williams." + +"How do you do," said Dic, as he took Roger's hand. + +"I am delighted to meet you," said Williams, which, as we know, was a +polite fiction. Dic had no especial occasion to dispute Williams's +statement, but for some undefined reason he doubted its truth. He did +not, however, doubt his own feelings, but knew that he was not glad to +meet Williams. The words, "I have heard a great deal of you from Miss +Bays during the last four months," had so startled him that he could +think of nothing else. After the narrative of his own adventures, he +had, in imitation of Rita, asked _her_ to tell _him_ "everything"; but +the name of Williams, her four-months' friend, had not been mentioned. +Dic could not know that the girl had forgotten Williams's very existence +in the moment of her joy. Her forgetfulness was the best evidence that +Williams was nothing to her; but, I confess, her failure to speak of him +had an ugly appearance. Williams turned to Rita, and, with a feeling of +satisfaction because Dic was present, handed her a small package, +saying:-- + +"I have brought you a little Christmas gift." + +Rita hesitatingly accepted the package with a whispered "Thank you," and +Mrs. Bays stepped to her side, exclaiming:-- + +"Ah, how kind of you, Mr. Williams." + +Rita, Mrs. Bays, and Williams were facing the fire, and Dic stood back +in the shadow of the room. A deep, black shadow it was to Dic. + +Mrs. Bays, taking the package from Rita's hand, opened it; and there, +nestling in a bed of blue velvet, was a tiny watch, rich with jewels, +and far more beautiful than the one Dic had brought from New York. +Encircling the watch were many folds of a massive gold chain. Mrs. Bays +held the watch up to the light of the firelight, and Dic, with an aching +sensation in the region of his heart, saw its richness at a glance. He +knew at once that the giver must be a man of wealth; and when Mrs. Bays +delightedly threw the gold chain over Rita's head, and placed the watch +in her unresisting hand, he remarked that he must be going. Poor, +terrified Rita did not hear Dic's words. Receiving no reply, he took his +hat from the floor where he had dropped it on entering the room several +centuries before, opened the door, and walked out. + +All that I have narrated as taking place after Williams entered upon the +scene occurred within the space of two or three minutes, and Rita first +learned that Dic was going when she heard the door close. + +"Dic!" she cried, and started to follow him, but her mother caught her +wrist and said sternly:-- + +"Stay here, Rita. Don't go to the door." + +"But, mother--" + +"Stay here, I command you," and Rita did not go to the door. Dic met Mr. +Bays at the gate, paused for a word of greeting, and plunged into the +snow-covered forest, while the words "during the last four months" rang +in his ears with a din that was almost maddening. + +"She might have told me," he muttered, speaking as if to the storm. +"While I have been thinking of her every moment, she has been listening +to him. But her letters were full of love. She surely loved me when I +met her two hours ago. No woman could feign love so perfectly. She must +love me. I can't believe otherwise. I will see her again to-night and +she will explain all, I am sure. There is no deceit in her." His +returning confidence eased, though it did not cure, his pain. It +substituted another after a little time--suspense. It was not in his +nature to brook suspense, and he determined again and again to see Rita +that evening. + +But his suspense was ended without seeing Rita. When he reached home he +found Sukey, blushing and dimpling, before the fire, talking to his +mother. + +"Been over to see Rita?" she asked, parting her moist, red lips in a +smile, showing a gleam of her little, white teeth, and dimpling +exquisitely. + +"Yes," answered Dic, laconically. + +"Thought maybe you would stay for supper," she continued. + +"No," replied Dic. + +"Perhaps the other fellow was there," remarked Sukey, shrugging her +plump shoulders and laughing softly. Dic did not reply, but drew a chair +to the hearth. + +"Guess they're to be married soon," volunteered Sukey. "He has been +coming Saturdays and staying over Sunday ever since you left. Guess he +waited for you to get out of the way. I think he's so handsome. Met him +one Sunday afternoon at the step-off. I went over to see Rita, and her +mother said she had gone to take a walk with Mr. Williams in that +direction after dinner. I knew they would be at the step-off; it's such +a lonely place. He lives in Boston, and they say he's enormously rich." +During the long pause that followed Dic found himself entirely relieved +of suspense. There was certainty to his heart's content. He did not show +his pain; and much to her joy Sukey concluded that Dic did not care +anything about the relations between Williams and Rita. + +"Rita showed me the ring he gave her," continued Sukey. Dic winced, but +controlled himself. It was his ring that Sukey had seen on Rita's +finger, but Dic did not know that. + +"Some folks envy her," observed the dimpler, staring in revery at the +fire. "She'll have a fine house, servants, and carriages"--Dic +remembered having used those fatal words himself--"and will live in +Boston; but for myself--well, I never intend to marry, but if I do I'll +take one of the boys around here, or I'll die single. The boys here are +plenty good enough for me." + +The big, blue eyes, covered by downcast lashes, were carefully examining +a pair of plump, little, brown hands resting in her lap, but after a +pause she flashed a hurried glance upon Dic, which he did not see. + +When a woman cruelly wounds a man as Rita had wounded Dic, the first +remedy that suggests itself to the normal masculine mind is another +woman, and the remedy is usually effective. There may not be as good +fish in the sea as the one he wants, but good fish there are, in great +numbers. Balm of Gilead doubtless has curative qualities; but for a +sore, jealous, aching, masculine heart I would every time recommend the +fish of the sea. + +Sukey, upon Mrs. Bright's invitation, remained for supper, and Dic, of +course, was compelled to take her home. Upon arrival at the Yates +mansion, Sukey invited Dic to enter. Dic declined. She drew off her +mittens and took his hand. + +"Why," she said, "your hands are like ice; you must come in and warm +them. Please do," so Dic hitched his horse under a straw-covered shed +and went in with the remedy. One might have travelled far and wide +before finding a more pleasant remedy than Sukey; but Dic's ailments +were beyond cure, and Sukey's smiles might as well have been wasted upon +her brother snowman in the adjacent field. + +Soon after Dic's arrival, all the family, save Sukey, adjourned to the +kitchen, leaving the girl and her "company" to themselves, after the +dangerous manner of the times. + +If any member of the family should remain in the room where the young +lady of the house was entertaining a friend, the visitor would consider +himself _persona non grata_, and would come never again. Of course the +Bays family had never retired before Dic; but he had always visited Tom, +not Rita. + +The most unendurable part of Williams's visits to Rita was the fact that +they were made to her, and that she was compelled to sit alone with him +through the long evenings, talking as best she could to one man and +longing for another. When that state of affairs exists, and the woman +happens to be a wife, the time soon comes when she sighs for the +pleasures of purgatory; yet we all know some poor woman who meets the +wrong man every day and gives him herself and her life because God, in +His inscrutable wisdom, has permitted a terrible mistake. To this +bondage would Rita's mother sell her. + +Dic did not remain long with the tempting little remedy. While his hand +was on the latch she detained him with many questions, and danced about +him in pretty impatience. + +"Why do you go?" she asked poutingly. + +"You said Bob Kaster was coming," replied Dic. + +"Oh, well, you stay and I'll send him about his business quickly +enough," she returned. + +"Would you, Sukey?" asked Dic, laughing. + +"Indeed, I will," she responded, "or any one else, if you will stay." + +She took his hand again, and, leaning against him, smiled pleadingly +into his face. Her smiles were as sweet and enticing as she or any other +girl could make. There were no redder lips, no whiter teeth, nor +prettier dimples than Sukey's on all Blue River or any other river, and +there could be no prettier, more tempting picture than this pouting +little nymph who was pleading with our Joseph not to run away. But Dic, +not caring to remain, hurriedly closed the door and went out into the +comforting storm. After he had gone Sukey went to the ciphering log and +sat gazing meditatively into the fire. Vexation and disappointment +alternately held possession of her soul; but Dic was more attractive to +her because he was unattainable, and she imagined herself greatly +injured and deeply in love. She may have imagined the truth; but Sukey, +though small in herself, had a large, comprehensive heart wherein +several admirers might be accommodated without overtaxing its capacity, +and soon she was comforting herself with Bob Kaster. + +There was little rest for Dic that night. Had he been able to penetrate +darkness and log walls, and could he have seen Rita sobbing with her +face buried in her pillow, he might have slept soundly. But darkness and +log walls are not to be penetrated by ordinary eyes. + +Riding home from Sukey's, Dic thought he had learned to hate Rita. He +swore mighty oaths that he would never look upon her face again. But +when he had rested a little time in bed he recalled her fair face, her +gentleness, her honesty, and her thousand perfections. He remembered the +small hand he had held so tenderly a few hours since. Its magnetic +touch, soft as the hand of a duchess, still tingled through his nerves. +With these memories came an anguish that beat down his pride, and, like +Rita, he clasped his hands over his head, turned his face to his pillow, +and alas! that I should say it of a strong man, wept bitter, scalding +tears. + +Do the real griefs of life come with age? If Dic should live till his +years outnumbered those of Methuselah, no pain could ever come to him +worthy of mention compared to this. It awakened him to the quality and +quantity of his love. It seemed that he had loved her ever since she +lisped his name and clung to his finger in tottering babyhood. He looked +back over the years and failed to see one moment in all the myriads of +moments when he did not believe himself first in her heart as she had +always been first in his; and now, after he had waited patiently, and +after she, out of her own full heart, had confessed her woman's love, +after she had given him herself in abject, sweet surrender, and had +taken him for her own, the thought of her perfidy was torture to him. +Then came again like a soothing balm the young memory of their last +meeting. He recalled and weighed every word, act, and look. Surely, he +thought, no woman could feign the love she had shown for him. She had +not even tried to show her love. It had been irrepressible. Why should +she wish to feign a love she did not feel? There was nothing she could +gain by deceit. But upon the heels of this slight hope came that +incontestable fact,--Williams. Dic could see her sitting with the +stranger as she had sat with himself at the step-off. Williams had been +coming for four months. She might be in his arms at that moment--the +hour was still early--before the old familiar fireplace, while the +family were in the kitchen. He could not endure the picture he had +conjured, so he rose from his bed, dressed, stole softly from the house, +and walked through the winter storm down the river to Bays's. Feeling +like a thief, he crept to the window. The night being cold, the fire had +not been banked, but threw its glow out into the room; and Dic's heart +leaped for joy when he saw the room was empty. At that same moment Rita +was in her own room, not twenty feet away from him, sobbing on her +pillow and wishing she were dead. + +Dic's discovery of the empty room had no real significance, but it +seemed a good omen, and he went home and slept. + +Rita did not sleep. She knew the first step had been taken to separate +her from Dic. She feared the separation was really effected. She had +offended this manly, patient lover so frequently that surely, she +thought, he would not forgive her this last and greatest insult. She +upbraided herself for having, through stupidity and cowardice, allowed +him to leave her. He had belonged to her for years; and the sweet +thought that she belonged to him, and that it was her God-given +privilege to give herself to him and to no other, pressed upon her +heart, and she cried out in the darkness: "I will not give him up! I +will not! If he will forgive me, I will fall upon my knees and beg him +to try me once again." + +Christmas was a long, wretched day for Dic. What it was to Rita you may +easily surmise. Early after supper Dic walked over to see Sukey, and his +coming filled that young lady's ardent little soul with delight. His +reasons for going would be hard to define. Perhaps his chief motive was +the hope of running away from himself, and the possibility of hearing +another budget of unwelcome news concerning Rita and Williams. He +dreaded to hear it; but he longed to know all there was to be known, and +he felt sure Sukey had exhaustive knowledge on the subject, and would be +ready to impart it upon invitation. + +He had been sitting with Sukey half an hour when Tom Bays walked in. +Thomas, of course, could not remain when he found the field occupied; +and much to Dic's regret and Sukey's delight he took his departure, +after a visit of ten minutes. Dic urged him to remain, saying that he +was going soon, and Sukey added, "Yes, won't you stay?" But she was far +from enthusiastic, and Thomas went home with disappointment in his heart +and profanity on his lips. + +When Tom entered the room where Rita was doing her best to entertain +Williams, she said, "I thought you were going to see Sukey?" + +"Dic's there," answered Tom, and Rita's white face grew whiter. + +Tom started toward the back door on his way to the kitchen, where his +father and mother were sitting, and Rita said, pleadingly:-- + +"Don't go, Tom; stay here with us. Please do." She forgot Williams and +continued: "Please, brother. I don't ask much of you. This is a little +thing to do for me. Please stay here," but brother laughed and went to +the kitchen without so much as answering her. + +When the door closed on Tom, Rita stood for a moment in front of the +fireplace, and, covering her face with her hands, began to weep. +Williams approached her, overflowing with consolation, and placed his +hand caressingly upon her arm. She sprang from him as if she had been +stung, and cried out:-- + +"Don't put your hand on me! Don't touch me!" She stepped backward toward +the door leading upstairs to her room. + +"Why, Rita," said Williams, "I did not intend anything wrong. I would +not offend you for all the world. You are nervous, Rita, and--and--" + +"Don't call me Rita," she interrupted, sobbing. "I hate--I hate--" she +was going to say "I hate you," but said,--"the name." + +He still approached her, though she had been retreating backward step by +step. He had no thought of touching her; but as he came toward her, she +lost self-control and almost screamed:-- + +"Don't touch me, I say! Don't touch me!" She had endured his presence +till she could bear it no longer, and the thought of Dic sitting with +Sukey had so wrought upon her that her self-control was exhausted. +Williams walked back to the fireplace, and Rita, opening the stair door, +hurriedly went to her room. + +[Illustration: "COVERING HER FACE WITH HER HANDS, SHE BEGAN TO WEEP."] + +She was not one in whom the baser sort of jealousy could exist; but the +thought of Dic, her Dic, sitting with Sukey, while she was compelled to +endure the presence of the man she had learned almost to hate, burned +her. Her jealousy did not take the form of hatred toward Sukey, and the +pain it brought her was chiefly because it confirmed her in the belief +that she had lost Dic. She did not doubt that Dic had loved her, and her +faith in that fact quickened her sense of loss. She blamed no one but +herself for the fact that he no longer loved her, and was seeking +another. Still, she was jealous, though even that unholy passion could +not be base in her. + +Sukey smiled and dimpled at Dic for an hour or two with no appreciable +effect. He sat watching the fire, seeing none of her little love +signals, and went home quite as wretched as he had come. Evidently, +Sukey was the wrong remedy, though upon seeing her charms one would have +felt almost justified in warranting her,--no cure, no pay. Perhaps she +was a too-willing remedy: an overdose of even the right drug may +neutralize itself. As for myself, I love Dic better because his ailment +responded to no remedy. + +Next day, Tom, without at all deserving it, won Rita's gratitude by +taking Williams out shooting. + +After supper Rita said, "My head aches, and if I may be excused, I will +go to my room." + +But her mother vetoed the proposition:-- + +"Your head does not ache, and you will stay downstairs. Your father and +I are going to church, and Mr. Williams will not want to be alone, will +you, Mr. Williams?" + +"Indeed, I hope Miss Bays will keep me company," answered this +persistent, not-to-be-shaken-off suitor. + +So Rita remained downstairs with Williams and listened to his apologies +for having offended her the night before. She felt contrite, and in turn +told him she was the one who should apologize, and said she hoped he +would forgive her. Her gentle heart could not bear to inflict pain even +upon this man who had brought so much suffering to her. + +The next morning took Williams away, and Rita's thoughts were all +devoted to formulating a plan whereby she might see Dic and beg his +forgiveness after a fashion that would have been a revelation to +Williams. + +Several days of furious storm ensued, during which our Rita, for the +first time in her life, was too ill to go abroad. + +Mr. Bays had gone to Indianapolis with Williams, and returned on +Thursday's coach, having failed to raise the three thousand dollars. At +the supper table, on the evening of his return, Tom offered a +suggestion. + +"I'll tell you where you can get most of the money," he said. "Dic has +twenty-six hundred dollars in Billy Little's box. He'll loan it to you." + +"That's just the thing," cried Mrs. Bays, joyfully. "Tom, you are the +smartest boy on Blue. It took you to help us out." One would have +thought from her praise that Tom, and not Dic, was to furnish the money. +Addressing her husband, she continued:-- + +"You go over and see him this evening. If he won't loan it to us after +all we have done for him, he ought to be horsewhipped." + +"What have we ever done for him?" asked Tom. The Chief Justice sought +for an answer. Failing to find a better one, she replied:-- + +"He's had five hundred meals in this house if he's had one." + +"And he's given us five hundred deer and turkeys if he's given us one," +answered Tom. + +"Well, you know, Tom, just as well as I do, that we have always been +helping him. It is only your generous nature keeps you from saying so," +responded Mrs. Bays. Tom laughed, and Tom, Sr., said:-- + +"I'll go over and see him this evening. I wonder where he has been? I +haven't seen him but once since he came home." + +"Guess Williams scared him off," suggested Tom. + +Rita tried in vain to think of some plan whereby she might warn Dic +against loaning the money, or prevent her father from asking it. After +supper Tom went to town while his father went up to see Dic. + +When the after-supper work was finished, Mrs. Bays took her knitting and +sat before the fire in the front room. Rita, wishing to be alone, +remained in the kitchen, watching the fire die down and cuddling her +grief. She had been there but a few minutes when the outer door opened +and in walked Dic. + +"I have come to ask you if you have forgotten me?" he said. + +The girl answered with a cry of joy, and ran to him. + +"Ah, Dic, I have forgotten all else. Forgive me. Forgive me," she +replied, and as the tears came, he drew her to his side. + +"But, Rita--this man Williams?" he asked. + +"I ... I know, Dic," she said between sobs, "I ... I know, but I +can't ... can't tell you now. Wait till I can speak. But I love you. +I ... can tell you that much. I will try to ... to explain when ... I +can talk." + +"You need explain nothing," said Dic, soothingly. "I want only to know +that you have not forgotten me. I have suffered terribly these last few +days." + +"I'm so glad," responded the sobbing girl, unconscious of her apparent +selfishness. + +The kitchen fireplace was too small for a hearth log, so Dic and Rita +took chairs before the fire, and the girl, regardless of falling tears, +began her explanation. + +"You see, it was this way, Dic," she sobbed. "He came with Uncle Jim, +and then he came again and again. I did not want him--I am sure you +know that I did not--but mother insisted, and I thought you would make +it all right when you returned. You know mother has heart trouble, and +any excitement may kill her. She is so--so--her will is so strong, and I +fear her and love her so much. She is my mother, and it is my duty to +obey her when--when I can. The time may come when I cannot obey her. It +has come, several times, and when I disobey her I suffer terribly and +always think how I would feel if she were to die." + +Dic longed to enlighten her concerning the mother heart, but could not +find it in his heart to attack even his arch-enemy through Rita's +simple, unquestioning faith. That faith was a part of the girl's +transcendent perfection, and a good daughter would surely make a good +wife. + +Rita continued her explanation: "He came many times to see me, and it +seems as though he grew to liking me. Then he asked me to marry him, but +I refused, Dic; I refused. I should have told him then that I had +promised to be your wife--" here she gave Dic her hand--"but I was +ashamed and--and, oh, I can't explain after all. I can't tell you how it +all happened. I thought I could; but I really do not myself understand +how it has all come about." + +"You have not promised him?" asked Dic in alarm. + +"Indeed, I have not, and I never shall. He has tried, with mother's +help, to force himself upon me, and I have been frightened almost to +death for fear he would succeed. Oh, take me now, Dic. Take me at once +and save me from him." + +"I would, Rita, but you are not yet eighteen, and we must have the +consent of your parents before we can marry. That, you know, your mother +would refuse. When you are eighteen--but that will be almost a year from +now--I will take you home with me. Do not fear. Give me your love, and +trust to me for the rest." + +"Now I feel safe," she cried, snatching up Dic's hand. "You are stronger +than mother. I saw that the evening before you left, when we were all on +the porch and you spoke up so bravely to her. You will meet her face to +face and beat down her will. I can't do it. I become helpless when she +attacks me. I am miserably weak. I sometimes hate myself and fear I +should not marry you. I know I shall not be able to make you a good +wife." + +Dic expressed an entire willingness to take the risk. "But why did you +accept a ring from him?" + +"I did not," responded Rita, with wide-open eyes. "He offered me a +diamond when he asked me to--to--but I refused it. I gave him back his +watch, too; but mother does not know I did. She would be angry. She +thinks the watch you gave me is the one he offered." + +"Sukey Yates said you showed her his ring." + +"Dic," returned Rita, firing up indignantly, "did Sukey tell you +that--that lie? I don't like to use the word, but, Dic, she lied. She +once saw your ring upon my finger, before I could hide it from her, but +I did not tell her who had given it to me. I told her nothing. I don't +believe she intended to tell a story. I am sorry I used the other word. +She probably thought that Mr.--Mr.--that man had given it to me." After +she had spoken, a shadowy little cloud came upon her face. "You were +over to see Sukey Christmas night," she said, looking very straight into +the fire. + +"Yes," returned Dic. "How did you learn that I was there?" + +"Tom told me," she answered. "And I cried right out before Mr.--Mr.--the +Boston man." + +"Ah, did you?" asked Dic, leaning forward and taking her hand. + +"Yes; and when he put his hand on my arm," she continued, very proud of +the spirit she had shown, "I just flew at him savagely. Oh, I can be +fierce when I wish. He will never touch me again, you may depend on it." +She then gave the details of the scene with Williams, dwelling proudly +upon the fact of her successful retreat to bed, and meekly telling of +what she called her jealousy and wickedness. She had asked forgiveness +of God, and now she would ask it of Dic, evidently believing that if God +and Dic would forgive her wicked jealousy, no one else had any right to +complain. She was justly proud of the manner in which she had +accomplished the retreat movement, and really felt that she was becoming +dare-devilish to a degree seldom, if ever, equalled by an undutiful +daughter. + +"You don't know how wicked I can be," she said, in great earnestness. + +"I know how good and beautiful you are," answered Dic. "I know you are +the one perfect human being in all the world--and it is useless for me +to try to tell you how much you are to me. When I am alone, I am better +able to realize what I feel, but I cannot speak it." + +"Oh, Dic, is it really true?" asked the girl. "Neither can I tell +how--how--" but those emotions which cannot be spoken in words, owing to +the poverty of our language, must be expressed otherwise. God or Satan +taught the proper method to Adam and Eve, and it has come down to us by +patristic succession, so that we have it to-day in all its pristine +glory and expressiveness. Some have spoken against the time-honored +custom, and claim to mark its decadence. Connecticut forbade it by law +on Sundays, and frowned upon it "Fridays, Saturdays, and all"; but when +it dies, the Lord will whitewash this old earth and let it out as a moon +to shine upon happier worlds where the custom still lives. + +Rita and Dic did not disturb Mrs. Bays, and she, unconscious of his +presence, did not disturb them until Mr. Bays returned. + +When Mrs. Bays learned that Dic had been in the kitchen an hour, she +felt that the highest attribute of the human mind had been grossly +outraged. But her husband was about to ask a favor of Dic, and she +limited her expression of dissent to an exhibition of frigid, virtuous +dignity, worthy of the king's bench, or Judge Anselm Fisher himself. + +When Bays came home, Dic and Rita went into the front room and took +their old places on the ciphering log. Mr. and Mrs. Bays sat on the +hearth before the fire. Mrs. Bays brought a chair and indicated by a +gesture that Rita should occupy it; but with Dic by her side that young +lady was brave and did not observe her mother's mute commands. Amid the +press of other matters in the kitchen, Rita had not remembered to warn +Dic not to lend her father the money. When that fluttering heart of hers +was in great trouble or joy, it was apt to be a forgetful little organ, +and regret in this instance followed forgetfulness. The regret came +after she was seated with Dic on the hearth log, and, being in her +mother's presence, dared not speak. + +Mr. Bays was genuinely glad to see Dic, and listened with delight to the +narrative of his trip. When an opportunity arose, Tom, Sr., said:-- + +"I have a fine opportunity to go into business with Jim Fisher. I want +to borrow three thousand dollars, and I wonder if you will be willing to +lend me your money?" + +"Yes," answered Dic, eagerly, "I am glad to lend it to you." He welcomed +the proposition as a blind man would welcome light. He was glad to help +his lifelong friend; but over and above that motive Mr. Bays's request +for money seemed to mean Rita. It certainly could mean nothing else; and +if the family moved to Indianapolis, it would mean Rita in the cosey +log-cabin up the river at once. Dic and his mother lived together, and, +even without Rita, the log house was a delightful home, warm in winter +and cool in summer; but the beautiful girl would transmute the log walls +to jasper, the hewed floors to beaten gold, and would create a paradise +on the banks of Blue. The thought almost made him dizzy. He had never +before felt so near to possessing her. + +"Indeed I will," he repeated. + +"I will pay you the highest rate of interest," said Mr. Bays. + +"I want no interest, and you may repay the loan in one or ten years, as +you choose." + +Rita, unable to repress her desire to speak, exclaimed: "Oh, Dic, please +don't," but Mrs. Bays gazed sternly over her glasses at her daughter and +suppressed the presumptuous, forward girl. The old lady, seeing Dic's +eagerness to lend the money, seized the opportunity to lessen her +obligation in the transaction and to make it appear that she was +conferring a favor upon Dic. If she and Mr. Bays would condescend to +borrow his money, she determined that Dic should fully appreciate the +honor they were doing him. Therefore, after a formulative pause, she +spoke to her daughter:-- + +"Mind your own affairs. Girls should be seen and not heard. Some girls +are seen altogether too much. Your father and Dic will arrange this +affair between themselves without your help. It is purely an affair of +business. Dic, of course, wishes to invest his money; and if your +father, after due consideration, is willing to help him, I am sure he +should feel obliged to us, and no doubt he will. He would be an +ungrateful person indeed if he did not. I am sure your father's note is +as good as the bank. He pays his just debts. He is my husband and could +not do otherwise. No man lives who has not at all times received his +dues from us to the last penny. If a penny is coming to us, we want it. +If we owe one, we pay it. My father, Judge Anselm Fisher, was the same +way. His maxim was, 'Justice to all and confusion to sinners.' He died +beholden to no man. Neither have I ever been beholden to any one. Dic is +fortunate, indeed, in finding so good an investment for his money, at +interest; very fortunate indeed." + +"I don't want interest," said the too eager Dic. + +"Indeed, that is generous in you," returned Mrs. Bays, though she was +determined that Dic should not succeed in casting the burden of an +obligation upon her shoulders. "But of course you know your money will +be safe, and that is a great deal in these days of weak banks and +robbers. If I were in Mr. Bays's place, I should pause and consider the +matter carefully and prayerfully before assuming responsibility for +anybody's money. If it should be stolen from him, he, and not you, would +lose it. I think it is very kind in him to undertake the +responsibility." + +That phase of the question slightly dimmed its rosiness; but Dic still +hoped that lending the money would make smoother his path to Rita. At +first he had not foreseen that he, and not the Bayses, would rest under +an obligation. To the girl the lending of this money meant Indianapolis, +Williams, and separation from Dic. + + + + +THE TOURNAMENT + +CHAPTER X + +THE TOURNAMENT + + +Mr. Bays, rash man that he was, without care or prayer, accepted Dic's +loan and was thankful, despite the good wife's effort to convince him he +was conferring a favor. Her remarks had been much more convincing to Dic +than to her husband. The latter could not entirely throw off the feeling +that Dic was doing him a favor. + +The money was to be delivered and the note executed in ten days, Mrs. +Margarita insisting that Dic should be responsible for his own money +until it was needed by her husband. + +"He certainly would not ask us to be responsible for his money till we +can use it," she observed, in an injured tone, to her daughter. One +would have supposed from her attitude that an imposition was being put +upon her, though she, herself, being accustomed to bear the burdens of +others, would bow her neck beneath this yoke and accept the +responsibility of Dic's money. She not only convinced herself that such +was the proper view to take of the transaction, but succeeded fairly +well in impressing even Rita with that belief. Such an achievement +required generalship of the highest order; but Mrs. Bays possessed that +rare quality to a degree seldom, if ever, equalled. + +The loan was to bear no interest, Dic hoping to heighten the sense of +obligation in Mr. Bays. He succeeded; but of course the important member +of the family still felt that Dic was beholden to her. She could not, +however, with either safety or justice, exclude from her house the man +who was to lend the much-needed money. While she realized the great +favor she was conferring on Dic, and fully understood the nature of the +burden she was taking upon herself solely for his sake, she had no +thought of shrinking from her duty;--not she. The money had not been +delivered, and Dic, if offended, might change his mind and foolishly +refuse her sacrifice. It might not be entirely safe to presume too +largely upon his sense of obligation--some persons are devoid of +gratitude--until the money was in hand. For these reasons Dic was +tolerated, and during the next ten days spent his evenings with Rita, +though mother and father Bays did not migrate to the kitchen, in +accordance with well-established usage on Blue, and as they had done +when Williams came a-wooing. Dic cared little for the infringement, and +felt that old times had come again. Rita, growing bold, braved her +mother's wrath, and continued each evening to give him a moment of his +own. One evening it would be a drink from the well that she wanted. +Again, it was a gourdful of shell-barks from the cellar under the +kitchen, whence she, of course, was afraid to fetch them alone. The most +guileless heart will grow adroit under certain well-known conditions; +and even Rita, the simplest of girls, easily made opportunities to give +Dic these little moments from which she came back rosy, while that lucky +young man was far from discontented. + +Rita paid each evening for Dic's moment when the door closed on him, and +continued payment during the next day till his return. But she +considered the moment a great bargain at the price, continued her +purchases, and paid the bills on demand to incarnate Justice. The bills +were heavy, and had not Rita been encased by an armor of trusty steel, +wrought from the links of her happiness, her soft, white form would +have been pierced through and through by the tough, ashen shafts of her +mother's relentless cruelty. + +We are apt to feel pain and suffering comparatively. To one who has +experienced a great agony, smaller troubles seem trivial. Rita had +experienced her great agony, and her mother's thrusts were but needle +pricks compared with it. + + * * * * * + +Arrangements were quickly made for moving to Indianapolis, and at the +end of ten days all was ready for the money to be delivered. Dic again +asked for Rita, and Mr. Bays was for delivering the girl at once. His +new venture at Indianapolis had stimulated his sense of self-importance, +and he insisted, with a temerity never before dared, that Dic, whom he +truly loved, should have the daughter whom they each loved. But the +Chief Justice would agree to nothing more than an extension of the +armistice, and graciously consented that Dic might visit the _family_ at +Indianapolis once in a while. + +After Dic had agreed to lend the money, he at once notified Billy +Little, in whose strong-box it was stored. Dic, in the course of their +conversation, expressed to Billy the sense of obligation he felt to the +Bayses. + +"I declare," vowed Billy, "that old woman is truly great. When she goes +to heaven, she will convince St. Peter that she is doing him a favor by +entering the pearly gates. Neither will she go in unless everything +suits her. There is not another like her. Archimedes said he could lift +the world with a lever if he had a fulcrum. Undiluted egotism is the +fulcrum. But one must actually believe in one's self to be effective. +One cannot impose a sham self-faith upon the world. Only the man who +believes his own lie can lie convincingly. Egad! Dic, it would have been +beautiful to see that self-sufficient old harridan attempting to +convince you that she was conferring a favor by taking your money. You +will probably never see a fippenny bit of it again. And without +interest! Jove! I say it was beautiful. Had she wanted your liver, I +suppose you would have thanked her for accepting it. She is a wonder." + +These remarks opened Dic's eyes and convinced him that the New York trip +had not effaced all traces of unsophistication. + +In those days of weak strong-boxes and numerous box-breakers, men +hesitated to assume the responsibility of taking another's gold for +safe-keeping. There could be no profit to Billy Little in Dic's gold. He +took it to keep for him only because he loved him. The sum total of +Billy's wealth, aside from his stock of goods valued at a thousand +dollars, consisted of notes, secured by mortgages, amounting to four +thousand dollars. Of this sum he had lent five hundred dollars to Dic, +who had repaid him in gold. The money had been placed in Billy Little's +strong-box with Dic's twenty-six hundred dollars. Each sum of gold was +contained in a canvas shot-bag. Of course news of Dic's wealth had +spread throughout the town and country, and had furnished many a +pleasant hour of conversation among persons with whom topics were +scarce. + +Late one night Billy Little's slumbers were disturbed by a noise in the +store, and his mind at once turned to the gold. He rose quickly, seized +his shot-gun, and opened the door leading into the storeroom just in +time to see two men climb out through the open window near the +post-office boxes. Billy ran to the window and saw the men a hundred +yards away. He climbed out and hurried in pursuit, but the men were soon +out of sight, and Billy returned shivering to the store. He could see by +the dim light from the window that the doors of his strong-box were +standing open. There was no need to examine the box. Billy well knew the +gold had vanished. He shut the iron doors and went back to his room, +poked the fire, seated himself at the piano, and for the next hour ran +through his favorite repertoire, closing the concert with "Annie +Laurie." Then he went to bed and slept like an untroubled child till +morning. + +The safe had been unlocked by means of a false key. There were no +visible signs of robbery, and Billy Little determined to tell no one of +his loss. The first question that confronted him in the morning was, +what should be done about the loss of Dic's gold? That proposition he +quickly settled. He went across the road to the inn, got his breakfast, +returned to his room, donned his broadcloth coat, made thirty years +before in London, took from his strong-box notes to the amount of +twenty-six hundred dollars, and left for Indianapolis by the noon stage. +At Indianapolis he sold the notes and brought back Dic's gold. This he +kept in his iron box during the day and under his pillow at night. + + * * * * * + +The household effects of the Bays family were placed in two wagons to be +taken to Indianapolis. Dic had offered to drive one team, and Tom was to +drive the other. Mr. Bays had preceded the family by a day or two; but +before leaving he and Dic had gone to Billy Little's store for the +money. Dic, of course, knew nothing of the robbery. Billy had privately +advised his young friend to lend the money payable on demand. + +"You should buy a farm when a good opportunity offers," said he. "Land +hereabouts will increase in value a hundred per cent in ten years. You +should not tie up your money for a long time." + +Billy made the same representation to Bays, and that gentleman, eager to +get the money on any terms, agreed with him. Little's real, though +unspoken, reason was this: he felt that if Dic held a debt against Bays, +collectible upon demand, it would be a protection against Mrs. +Margarita's too keen sense of justice, and might prove an effective help +in winning Rita from the icy dragoness. Therefore, the note was drawn +payable on demand. When Mrs. Bays learned that fact, she named over to +her spouse succinctly the various species of fool of which he was the +composite representative. The satisfaction she felt in unbosoming +herself was her only reward, for the note remained collectible on +demand. + +The weather was very cold, and the snow-covered road would be rough. So +it had been determined that Rita and her mother should travel to +Indianapolis by the stage coach. But when the wagons were ready to +start, at sun-up, Mrs. Bays being in bed, Rita basely deserted that +virtuous woman and climbed over the front wheel to the seat beside Dic. +She left a note for her mother, saying that she would go with the wagon +to save the seven shilling stage fare. She knew she was making a heavy +purchase of "moments," and was sure she would be called upon for instant +payment that night when she should meet her mother. She was willing to +pay the price, whatever it might be, for the chariot of Phoebus would +have been a poor, tame conveyance compared with the golden car whereon +she rode. + +The sun was barely above the horizon, and the crisp, cold air was filled +with glittering frost dust when the wagons crossed Blue on the ice at +the ford below Bays's barn. The horses' breath came from their nostrils +like steam from kettle-spouts, and the tires, screaming on the frozen +snow, seemed to laugh for joy. It would have been a sad moment for Rita +had she not been with Dic; but with him by her side she did not so much +as turn her head for one backward look upon the home she was leaving. + +Dic wore a coat made from mink pelts which he had taken in the hunt, and +he so wrapped and enveloped Rita in a pair of soft bearskin robes that +the cold could not come near her. He covered her head, mouth, nose, and +cheeks with a great fur cap of his own; but he left her eyes exposed, +saying, "I must be able to see them, you know." As he fastened the +curtains of the cap under her chin, he received a flashing answer from +the eyes that would have warmed him had he been clothed in gossamer and +the mercury freezing in the bulb. + +If I were to tell you all the plans that were formulated upon that wagon +while it jolted and bumped over the frozen ruts of the Michigan road; if +I were to write down here all the words of hope and confidence in the +fickle future; if I were to tell you of the glances, touches, and words +of love that were given and spoken between sun-up and sun-down upon this +chariot of the gods--I will say of the blind god--I should never finish +writing, nor would you ever finish reading. + +It was:-- + +"You will write to me every day?" + +"Yes, every day." + +"You will think of me every day and night?" + +"Yes, Dic, every moment, and--" + +"You will come back to me soon--very soon?" + +"Yes, Dic, whenever you choose to take me." + +"And you will be brave against your mother?" + +"Yes, brave as I can be, for your sake, Dic. But you must not forget +that I cannot be very brave long at a time without help from you! Oh, +Dic, how can I bear to be so far away from you? I shall see you only on +Sundays; a whole week apart! You have never been from me so long since I +can remember till you went to New York. I told you trouble would come +from that trip; but you will come to me Sundays--by Saturday night's +stage?" + +"Yes, every Sunday." + +"Surely? You will never fail me? I shall die of disappointment if you +fail me once. All week I shall live on the hope of Sunday." + +"I'll come, Rita. You need not fear." + +"And Dic, you will not go often to see Sukey Yates, will you?" + +"I'll not speak to her, if you wish. She is nothing to me. I'll not go +near her." + +"No, I don't ask that. I fear I am very selfish. You will be lonely when +I am gone and--and you may go to see Sukey--and--and the other girls +once in a while. But you won't go too often to see Sukey and--and you +won't grow to caring for her--one bit, will you?" + +"I will not go at all." + +"Oh, but you must; I command you. You would think I do not trust you if +I would not let you go at all. I don't entirely trust her, though I am +sure I am wrong and wicked to doubt her; but I trust you, and would +trust you with any one." + +"I, too, trust you, Rita. It will be impossible for you to mistreat +Williams, associated as he is with your father. For the sake of peace, +treat him well, but--" + +"He shall never touch my hand, Dic; that I swear! I can't keep him from +coming to our house, but it will be torture when I shall be wanting you. +Oh, Dic--" and tears came before she could take her hands from under the +bearskins to cover her face. But as I said, I cannot tell you all the +plans and castles they built, nor shall I try. + +The wise man buildeth many castles, but he abideth not therein, lest +they crumble about his ears and crush him. Castles built of air often +fall of stone. Therefore, only the foolish man keeps revel in the great +hall or slumbers in the donjon-keep. + + * * * * * + +Early upon the second Sunday after the Bayses' advent to Indianapolis, +Dic, disdaining the stage, rode a-horseback and covered the distance +before noon. Mr. Bays and Tom received him with open arms. Rita would +have done likewise in a more literal sense could she have had him alone +for a moment. But you can see her smiles and hear her gentle heart +beats, even as Dic saw and heard them. A bunch of cold, bony fingers was +given to Dic by Mother Justice. When he arrived Williams was present +awaiting dinner, and after Mrs. Bays had given the cold fingers, she +said:-- + +"I suppose we'll have to try to crowd another plate on the table. We +didn't expect an extra guest." + +Rita endured without complaint her mother's thrusts when she alone +received them, but rebelled when Dic was attacked. In the kitchen she +told her mother that she would insult Williams if Mrs. Bays again +insulted Dic. The girl was so frightened by her own boldness that she +trembled, and although the mother's heart showed signs of weakness, +there was not time, owing to the scorching turkey, for a total collapse. +There was, however, time for a few random biblical quotations, and they +were almost as effective as heart failure in subduing the insolent, +disobedient, ungrateful, sacrilegious, wicked daughter for whom the fond +mother had toiled and suffered and endured, lo! these many years. + +When Rita and her mother returned to the front room to invite the guests +to dinner, Dic thanked Mrs. Bays, and said he would go to the tavern. +Rita's face at once became a picture of woe, but she was proud of Dic's +spirit, and gloried in his exhibition of self-respect. When Mrs. Bays +saw that Dic resented her insult, she insisted that he should remain. +She said there was plenty for all, and that there was more room at the +table than she had supposed. But Dic took his hat and started toward the +door. Tom tried to take the hat from his hand, saying:-- + +"Nonsense, Dic, you will stay. You must," and Mr. Bays said:-- + +"Come, come, boy, don't be foolish. It has been a long time since you +took a meal with us. It will seem like old times again. Put down your +hat." + +Dic refused emphatically, and Tom, taking up his own hat, said:-- + +"If Dic goes to the inn, I go with him. Mother's a damned old fool." I +wish I might have heard the undutiful son speak those blessed words! + +Williams was delighted when Rita did not insist upon Dic's remaining, +but his delight died ignominiously when the girl with tears in her eyes +took Dic's hand before them all and said:-- + +"Come back to me soon, Dic. I will be waiting for you." + +Our little girl is growing brave, but she trembles when she thinks of +the wrath to come. + +Dinner was a failure. Mrs. Bays thought only of the note payable on +demand, and feared that her offensive conduct to Dic might cause its +instant maturity. If the note had been in her own hands under similar +circumstances, and if she had been in Dic's place, she well knew that +serious results would have followed. She judged Dic by herself, and +feared she had made a mistake. + +There were but two modes of living in peace with this woman--even in +semi-peace. Domineer her coldly, selfishly, and cruelly as did Tom, and +she would be a worm; or submit to her domineering, be a worm yourself, +and she would be a tyrant. Those who insist on domineering others +usually have their way. The world is too good-natured and too lazy to +combat them. Fight them with their own weapons, and they become an easy +prey. Tom was his mother's own son. He domineered her, his father, and +Rita; but, like his mother, his domineering was inflicted only upon +those whose love for him made them unresisting. + +But I have wandered from the dinner. Rita sat by Williams, but she did +not eat, and vouchsafed to him only such words as were absolutely +necessary to answer direct questions. + +Williams was a handsome fellow, and many girls would have been glad to +answer his questions volubly. He, like Mrs. Bays, was of a domineering +nature, and clung to a purpose once formed with the combative tenacity +of a bull-dog or the cringing persistency of a hound. Success in all his +undertakings was his object, and he cared little about the means to +desired ends. Such a man usually attains his end; among other +consummations, he is apt to marry a rare, beautiful girl who hates him. + +"Dic is like a brother to Rita," said Mrs. Bays, in explanation of her +daughter's conduct. "Her actions may seem peculiar to a stranger, but +she could only feel for him the affection she might give to a brother." + +"Brother!" exclaimed Rita, in accent of contempt, though she did not +look up from her plate. The young lady was growing rebellious. Wait for +the reckoning, girl! Rita's red flag of rebellion silenced Mrs. Bays for +the time being, and she attempted no further explanations. + +Poor father Bays could think of nothing but Dic eating dinner at the +tavern. Rita trembled in rebellion, and was silent. After a time the +general chilliness penetrated even Williams's coat of polish, and only +the clinking of the knives and forks broke the uncomfortable stillness. +Dic was well avenged. + +Soon after dinner Tom and Dic returned. Tom went to the kitchen, and his +mother said:-- + +"Tom, my son, your words grieved me, and I--" + +"Oh, shut up," answered De Triflin'. "Your heart'll bust if you talk too +much. Do you want to make Dic sue us for the money we owe him, and throw +us out of business? Don't you know we would have to go back to Blue if +Dic asked for his money? If you hain't got any sense, you ought to keep +your mouth shut." + +"Tom, you should be ashamed," said Rita, looking reproachfully at her +brother. + +"You shut up too," answered Tom. "Go in and talk to your two beaux. God! +but you're popular. How are you going to manage them to-night?" + +That question had presented itself before, and Rita had not been able to +answer it. + +After Mrs. Bays had gone from the kitchen, Tom repeated his question:-- + +"How will you manage them to-night, Sis?" + +"I don't know," answered Rita, almost weeping. "I suppose Dic will go +away. He has more pride than--than the other. I suppose Mr. Williams +will stay. Tom, if you find an opportunity, I want you to tell Dic to +stay--tell him I want him to stay. He must stay with me until Williams +goes, even if it is all night. Please do this for me, brother, and I'll +do anything for you that you ask--I always do." + +But Tom laughed, and said, "No, I'll not mix in. I like Dic; but, Sis, +you're a fool if you don't take Williams. The Tousy girls would jump at +him. They were at the tavern, and laughed at Dic's country ways." + +Tom lied about the Tousy girls. They were splendid girls, and their +laughter had not been at Dic's country ways. In fact, the eldest Miss +Tousy had asked Tom the name of his handsome friend. + +Tom left Rita, and her tears fell unheeded as she finished the +after-dinner work. For ten days she had looked forward to this Sunday, +and after its tardy arrival it was full of grief, despite her joy at +seeing Dic. + +At two o'clock Williams left, and the remainder of the afternoon richly +compensated the girl for her earlier troubles. Tom went out, and about +four o'clock Mr. Bays went for a walk while Justice was sleeping +upstairs. During the father's absence, Dic and Rita had a delightful +half hour to themselves, during which her tongue made ample amends for +its recent silence, and talked such music to Dic as he had never before +heard. She had, during the past ten days, made memoranda of the subjects +upon which she wished to speak, fearing, with good reason, that she +would forget them all, in the whirl of her joy, if she trusted to +memory. So the memoranda were brought from a pocket, and the subjects +taken up in turn. To Dic that half hour was well worth the ride to +Indianapolis and home again. To her it was worth ten times ten days of +waiting, and the morning with its wretched dinner was forgotten. + +Mrs. Margarita, stricken by Tom's words, had been thinking all the +afternoon of the note payable on demand, and had grown to fear the +consequences of her conduct at dinner-time. She had hardly grown out of +the feeling that Dic was a boy, but his prompt resentment of her cold +reception awakened her to the fact that he might soon become a dangerous +man. Rita's show of rebellion also had an ominous look. She was nearing +the dangerous age of eighteen and could soon marry whom she chose. Dic +might carry her off, despite the watchfulness of open-eyed Justice, and +cause trouble with the note her husband had so foolishly given. All +these considerations moved Margarita, the elder, to gentleness, and when +she came downstairs she said:-- + +"Dic, I am surprised and deeply hurt. We always treat you without +ceremony, as one of the family, and I didn't mean that I didn't want you +to stay for dinner. I did want you, and you must stay for supper." + +Dic's first impulse was to refuse the invitation; but the pleading in +Rita's eyes was more than he could resist, and he remained. + +How different was the supper from the dinner! Rita was as talkative as +one could ask a girl to be, and Mrs. Bays would have referred to the +relative virtues of hearing and seeing girls, had she not been in +temporary fear of the demand note. Tom was out for supper with Williams. +Mr. Bays told all he knew; and even the icy dragoness, thawed by the +genial warmth, unbent to as great a degree as the daughter of Judge +Anselm Fisher might with propriety unbend, and was actually +pleasant--for her. After supper Dic insisted that Mrs. Bays should go to +the front room, and that he should be allowed, as in olden times, when +he was a boy, to assist Rita in "doing up" the after-supper work. So he, +wearing an apron, stood laughingly by Rita's side drying the dishes +while she washed them. There were not enough dishes by many thousand, +and when the paltry few before them had been dried and placed in a large +pan, Dic, while Rita's back was turned, poured water over them, and, of +course, they all had to be dried again. Rita laughed, and began her task +anew. + +"Who would have thought," she whispered, shrugging her shoulders, "that +washing dishes could be such pleasant work." + +Dic acknowledged his previous ignorance on the subject. He was for +interrupting the work semi-occasionally, but when the interruptions +became too frequent, she would say: "Don't, Dic," and laughingly push +him away. She was not miserly. She was simply frugal, and Dic had no +good reason to complain. After every dish had been washed and dried many +times, Rita started toward her torture chamber, the front room. + +At the door she whispered to Dic:-- + +"Mr.--that man is in there. He will remain all evening, and I want you +to stay till he goes." + +"Very well," responded Dic. "I don't like that sort of thing, but if you +wish, I'll stay till morning rather than leave him with you." + +Williams was on hand, and as a result Rita had no words for any one. +There was no glorious fireplace in the room, and consequently no cosey +ciphering log. In its place was an iron stove, which, according to Rita, +made the atmosphere "stuffy." + +Toward nine o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Bays retired, and the "sitting-out" +tournament began. The most courteous politeness was assumed by the +belligerent forces, in accordance with established custom in all +tournaments. + +The great clock in the corner struck ten, eleven, and twelve o'clock. +Still the champions were as fresh as they had been at nine. No one could +foretell the victor, though any one could easily have pointed out the +poor victim. After ten o'clock the conversation was conducted almost +entirely by Williams and Dic, with a low monosyllable now and then from +Rita when addressed. She, poor girl, was too sleepy to talk, even to +Dic. Soon after twelve o'clock the knight from Blue, pitying her, showed +signs of surrender; but she at once awoke and mutely gave him to +understand that she would hold him craven should he lower his lance +point while life lasted. The clock struck one. + +The champions had exhausted all modern topics and were beginning on old +Rome. Dic wondered what would be the hour when they should reach Greece +and Egypt in their backward flight. But after the downfall of Rome, near +the hour of two, Sir Roger was unhorsed, and went off to his castle and +to bed. Then Rita bade Dic good-by, after exacting from him a solemn +promise to return the next Sunday. + +Rita thought Dic's victory was a good omen, and drew much comfort from +it. She tried to lie awake to nurse her joy, but her eyes were so heavy +that she fell asleep in the midst of her prayer. + +Dic saddled his horse and started home. The sharp, crisp air was +delicious. The starlit sky was a canopy of never ceasing beauty, and +the song in his heart was the ever sweet song of hope. The four hours' +ride seemed little more than a journey of as many minutes; and when he +stabled his horse at home, just as the east was turning gray and the +sun-blinded stars were blinking, he said to himself:-- + +"A fifty-two-mile ride and twenty-four hours of +happiness,--anticipation, realization, and memory,--cheap!" + +He slept for two or three hours and hunted all day long. Tuesday's stage +brought a letter from Rita, and it is needless to speak of its +electrifying effect on Dic. There was a great deal of "I" and "me" and +"you" in the letter, together with frequent repetitions; but tautology, +under proper conditions, may have beauties of its own, not at all to be +despised. + +Dic went to town Tuesday evening and sat before Billy Little's fire till +ten o'clock, telling our worthy little friend of recent events. They +both laughed over the "sitting-out" tournament. + +"It begins to look as if you would get her," remarked Billy, leaning +forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees. He was +intensely jealous of Williams, and was eager to help Dic in any manner +possible. + +"I hope you are right, Billy Little," replied Dic. "When persons agree +as do Rita and I, there should be a law against outside interference." + +"There is such a law," answered Billy--"God's law, but most persons have +greater respect for a legislative statute." + +"I didn't know you were religious," said Dic. + +"Of course I am. Every man with any good in him is religious. One +doesn't have to be a Methodist, a Baptist, or a Roman Catholic to be +religious. But bless my soul, Dic, I don't want to preach." He leaned +forward looking into the fire, took his pipe from his mouth and, as +usual, hummed Maxwelton's braes. + +"If Rita were a different girl, my task would be easier," observed Dic. +"She is too tender-hearted and affectionate to see faults in any one who +is near to her. Notwithstanding her mother's cruelty and hypocrisy, Rita +loves her passionately and believes she is the best and greatest of +women. She stands in fear of her, too, and when the diabolical old fiend +quotes Scripture, no matter how irrelevantly, or has heart trouble, the +girl loses self-control and would give up her life if her mother wanted +it. Rita is a coward, too; but that is a sweet fault in a woman, and I +would not have her different in any respect. I believe Mrs. Bays has +greater respect for me since I lent the money. I could see the good +effect immediately." + +"Her respect would not have been so perceptible had you taken a note +payable in one or two years. Hold that demand note as a club over the +old woman, and perhaps you will get the girl." + +"Was that your reason for advising me to take the note payable on +demand?" asked Dic. + +"It was one of my reasons--perhaps the chief one." + +"Then I'll write to Mr. Bays asking him to draw a new note payable in +two years," said Dic. + +Billy took a small piece of paper, wrote a line or two, and handed it to +Dic, saying:-- + +"Sign this and deliver it to Williams when you take Bays's note due in +two years." + +The slip read, "Pay on demand to Roger Williams, Esq., one Rita Bays." + +Dic laughed nervously, and said: "I guess you're right, as usual. After +all, it is a shame that I should take her to my poor log-cabin when she +might have a mansion in Boston and all that money can buy. If I were an +unselfish man, I should release my claims to her." A silence of several +moments ensued, during which Billy drew the leather trunk from under the +bed and took a fresh letter from the musty package we have already +seen. He drew his chair near to the candle, slipped the letter from its +envelope, and slowly read its four pages to himself. After gazing at the +fire for several minutes in meditation he said:-- + +"I received a Christmas gift, Dic. It came from England. I got it this +morning. It is the miniature of an old friend. I have not seen or heard +from her in thirty years. I also have a letter. If you wish, you may be +the only person in all the world, save myself, to read it." + +"Indeed, I'll be glad--if you wish me to read it. You know I am deeply +interested in all that touches you." + +"I believe I know," answered Billy, handing him the letter across the +table. Dic read to himself:-- + + + ----, ENGLAND, 18 + + "MY DEAR FRIEND: Each Christmas day for many years have I written a + letter to you, but none of them have ever been seen by any eyes + save my own. I have always intended sending them to you, but my + courage upon each occasion has failed me, and none of them has ever + reached you. This one I mean to send. I wonder if I shall do so? + How many years is it, my friend, since that day, so full of + pain,--ah, so full of pain,--when I returned the ring you had given + me, and you released me to another. In your letter you made + pretence that you did not suffer, knowing that I would suffer for + the sake of your pain. But you did not deceive me. I knew then, as + I know now, that you released me because you supposed the position + and wealth which were offered me would bring happiness. But, my + friend, that was a mistaken generosity. Life has been rich in many + ways. I have wealth and exalted position, and am honored and envied + by many. My husband is a good, kind man. I have no children and am + thankful in lacking them. A woman willingly bears children only + for the man she loves. But, oh, my friend, the weariness that never + ceases, the yearning that never stops, the dull pain that never + really eases, have turned me gray, and I am old before my time. I + fear the longing and the pain are sinful, and nightly I pray God to + take them from my heart. At times He answers, in a degree, my + prayers, and I almost forget; but again, He forsakes me, and at + those moments my burden seems heavier than I can bear. One may + easily endure if one has a bright past or a happy future to look + upon. One may live over and over again one's past joys, or may draw + upon a hopeful future; but a dead, ashen past, a barren present, + and a hopeless future bring us at times to rebellion against an + all-wise God because He has given us life. Time is said to heal all + wounds; but it has failed with me, and they, I fear, will ache so + long as I live. I suppose you, too, are old, though you will always + be young to me, and doubtless the snow is also in your hair. I, + sinful one that I am, send you with this letter, my miniature and a + lock of my hair, that you may realize the great change that has + been wrought in me by time. This letter I surely will post. May it + take to you in the wilderness a part of my wretchedness, for so + selfish am I that I would take comfort in knowing that I do not + suffer alone. I retract the last sentence and in its place ask, not + that you suffer, but that you do not forget. In health I am blessed + beyond my deserts, and I hope the same comfort abides with you. You + will hear from me never again. I have allowed myself this one + delightful moment of sin, and God, I know, will give me strength + against another. I wish you all the good that one human being can + wish another. + + "Regretfully, fondly, farewell. + + "RITA." + + +Dic, almost in tears, returned the letter to Billy Little, and that +worthy man, wishing to rob the scene of its sentimentality, said:-- + +"She says she supposes my hair is gray! She doesn't know I am as bald as +a gourd. Here is her miniature. I'll not send her mine; she might +laugh." + +Dic took the picture and saw a sweet, tender face, fringed by white +curls, and aglow with soft, brown eyes. + +"Do you see a resemblance in the miniature to--to any one you know?" +asked Billy Little. + +"By George!" exclaimed Dic, holding the picture at arm's length, +"Rita--her mouth, her eyes; the same name, too," and he kissed the +miniature rapturously. + +"Look here, young fellow," cried Billy Little. "Hand me that miniature. +You shan't be kissing all my female friends. By Jove! if she were to +come over here, I'd drive you out of the settlement with a shot-gun, +'deed if I wouldn't. Now you will probably change your mind about +unselfishly surrendering Rita to Williams. I tell you, Dic, a fool +conscience is more to be dreaded than a knavish heart." + +"You are always right, Billy Little, though, to tell you the truth, I +had no intention whatever of surrendering Rita to any one," returned +Dic. + +"I know you hadn't. Of course I knew you could not even have spoken +about it had you any thought that it might be possible." + + + + +A KISS AND A DUEL + +CHAPTER XI + +A KISS AND A DUEL + + +I shall not attempt to give you an account of Dic's numerous journeyings +to Indianapolis. With no abatement in affection, the period of his +visits changed from weekly to fortnightly, and then to monthly. +Meantime, Williams was adroitly plying his suit; and by convincing Rita +that he had abandoned the rôle of lover for that of friend, he succeeded +in regaining her confidence. As agent for his father's products, he had +an office at Indianapolis, and large sums of money passed through his +hands. He and Tom became great cronies, for it was Williams's intention +to leave no stone unturned, the turning of which might assist him in +winning Rita. His passion for the girl became almost desperate at times, +and her unmistakable coldness added fuel to the flame. He well knew she +did not love him; but, like many another mistaken man, he believed he +could teach her that great lesson if she were his wife, and could not +believe that she entertained either a serious or a lasting sentiment for +so inferior a person as Diccon Bright. Williams had invariably found +smooth sailing with other young ladies; and head winds in Rita's case +caused the harbor to appear fairer than any other for which he had ever +trimmed his sails. + +Soon after Rita's entrance into Indianapolis society she became popular +with the fair sex and admired of the unfair; that condition, in my +opinion, being an unusual triumph for any young woman. To that end +Williams was of great assistance. A rich, cultured society man of Boston +was sure to cut a great figure among the belles and mothers of a small +frontier town. The girl whom Williams delighted to honor necessarily +assumed importance in the eyes of her sisters. In most cases they would +have disliked her secretly in direct ratio to the cube of their outward +respect; but Rita was so gentle and her beauty was so exquisite, yet +unassertive, that the girl soon numbered among her friends all who knew +her. There were the Tousy and the Peasly girls, the Wright girls and the +Morrisons, to say nothing of the Smiths, Browns, and Joneses, many of +whom were the daughters of cultured parents. If any one nowadays +believes that Indianapolis--little spot in the wilderness though it +was--lacked refined society during the thirties, he is much mistaken. +Servants were scarce, and young ladies of cultured homes might any day +be called upon to cook the dinner or the supper, and afterward to "do +up" the work; but they could leave the kitchen after preparing a good +meal, walk into the parlor and play Beethoven and Mozart with credit to +themselves and their instructors, and pleasure to their audience. They +could leave the piano and discuss Shakespeare, Addison, Dick Steele, +Provost, and Richardson; and, being part of the immutable feminine, +could also discuss their neighbors upon occasion, and speak earnestly +upon the serious subject of frocks and frills. As to beauty--but that is +a benediction granted to all times and places, creating more or less +trouble everywhere. + +The Tousy girls, having wealth, beauty, and numbers--there were five of +them, ranging in years from fifteen to twenty-five--led the social +march; and they at once placed the stamp of unqualified approval upon +our little country girl from Blue. The eldest of the Tousy brood was, of +course, Miss Tousy; then came Sue, Kate, and the others, both of whom, +naturally, had names of their own. Miss Tousy will soon make her +appearance again in these pages for a short time. Her own romance I +should like to tell you some day. + + * * * * * + +The firm of Fisher and Fox thrived famously during the first few months +of their partnership, and that Tom might not be ashamed of Rita when in +society, Mrs. Bays consented that she should have some new gowns, hats, +and wraps. All this fine raiment pleased Dic for Rita's sake, and +troubled him for his own. + +The first he saw of the new gowns was on a certain bright Sunday +afternoon in spring. Rita's heart had been divided between two desires: +she longed to tell Dic in her letters of her beautiful new gowns, but +she also wished to surprise him. By a masterful effort she took the +latter course, and coming downstairs after dinner upon the Sunday +mentioned she burst suddenly upon Dic in all her splendor. Her delight +was so intense that she could not close her lips for smiling, and Dic +was fairly stunned by her grandeur and beauty. She turned this way and +that, directing him to observe the beautiful tints and the fashionable +cut of her garments, and asked him if the bonnet with its enormous +"poke," filled with monster roses, was not a thing of beauty and a joy +so long as it should last. Dic agreed with her, and told her with truth +that he had never seen a fashion so sweet and winsome. Then he received +his reward, after being cautioned not to disturb the bonnet, and they +started out for a walk in the sunshine. + +Dic's garments were good enough,--he had bought them in New York,--but +Rita's outfit made his clothes look poor and rusty. Ever since her +residence in Indianapolis he had felt the girl slipping away from him, +and this new departure in the matter of dress seemed to be a further +departure in the matter of Rita. In that conclusion he was wrong. The +girl had been growing nearer to him day by day. Her heart belonged to +him more entirely than it had even on the banks of Blue, and she longed +for the sycamore divan and the royal canopy of elm. Still, she loved her +pretty gowns. + +"I am almost afraid of you," said Dic, when he had closed the gate and +was taking his place beside her for the walk. + +"Why?" asked Rita, delightedly. Her heart was full of the spring and +Dic; what more could she desire? + +"Your gown, your bonnet, your dainty shoes, your gloves, your beauty, +all frighten me," said Dic. "I can't believe they belong to me. I can't +realize they are mine." + +"But they are," she said, flashing up to him a laughing glance from her +eyes. "My new gown should not frighten you." + +"But it does," he returned, "and you, too." + +"I am glad if I frighten you," she answered, while lacing her gloves. "I +have been afraid of you long enough. It is your turn now." + +"You have been afraid of me?" asked Dic in surprise. + +"Yes," she returned quite seriously. "I have always been slightly afraid +of you, and I hope I always shall be. The night of Scott's social I was +simply frightened to death, and before that night for a long, long time +I was in constant fear of you. I was afraid you would speak of--you +know--and I was afraid you would not. I did not know what terrible +catastrophe would happen if you did speak, and I did not know what would +happen to me if you did not. So you see I have always been afraid of +you," she said laughingly. + +"Why, Rita, I would not harm a hair of your head." + +"Of course not. I did not fear you in that way. You are so strong and +big and masterful; that is what frightens me. Perhaps I enjoy fearing +you just a bit." + +"But you are so much grander than I," returned Dic, "that you seem to be +farther from me than ever before." + +"Farther?" she asked in surprise. + +"Yes, you seem to be drifting from me ever since you came to +Indianapolis," he returned. + +"Ah, Dic, I have been feeling just the reverse," and her eyes opened +wide as she looked into his without faltering. There was not a thought +in all their gentle depths she would not gladly have him know. A short +silence ensued, during which she was thinking rapidly, and her thoughts +produced these remarkable words:-- + +"You should have taken me long ago." Dic wondered how he might have +taken her; but failing to discover any mistake, he went on:-- + +"I am going to New York again this spring and,--and you will be past +eighteen when I return. You can then marry me without your mother's +consent, if you will. Will you go home with me when I return?" + +The eyes and the face were bent toward the ground, but the lips +whispered distinctly, "Yes, Dic," and that young man bitterly regretted +the publicity of their situation. + +Soon our strollers met other young persons, and Dic was presented. All +were dressed in holiday attire, and the young man from Blue felt that +his companion and her friends outshone him completely. Rita was proud of +him, and said as much in reply to Dic's remark when they resumed their +walk. + +"You might come to see me during the week, when the stores are open," +she said, "and you might buy one of the new-fashioned hats. If you can +afford it, you might order a long coat for Sunday. Polished shoes would +look well, too; but I am satisfied with you as you are. I only suggest +these purchases because you seem to feel uncomfortable." + +After Rita's suggestion he did feel uncomfortable. He had earned no +money since his return from New York, and Rita's fine feathers had been +purchased by the proceeds of his twenty-six hundred dollars invested in +her father's business. Therefore, hat, coat, and shoes were not within +his reach unless he should go into debt, and that he had no thought of +doing. + +With her husband's increasing prosperity, Mrs. Bays grew ever more +distant in her manner toward Dic. Rita, having once learned that +rebellion did not result in instant death to her or to her parent, had +taken courage, and governed her treatment of Williams by her mother's +conduct toward Dic. Therefore Justice, though stern, was never +insulting. + +After Rita's suggestion bearing upon the coat, Dic, though ardently +desiring to see her, dreaded to go to Indianapolis, and at that time his +visits became monthly, much to Rita's grief. She complained in her +letters, and her gentle reproaches were pathetic and painful to Dic. + +Tom frequently visited the old home, and, incidentally, Sukey Yates, +upon whom his city manner and fashionable attire made a tremendous +impression. Returning home from his visits to Sukey, Tom frequently +spoke significantly of Dic's visits to that young lady's ciphering log, +and Rita winced at her brother's words, but said nothing. Miss Yates +probably multiplied the number of Dic's visits by two or more in +speaking of them to Tom, having in mind the double purpose of producing +an effect upon that young man and also upon his sister. But there was +too much truth in her boasting, since our hero certainly submitted +himself to Sukey's blandishments and placed himself under the fatal +spell of her dimples with an increasing frequency which was to be +lamented. Especially was it lamented by Billy Little. Sukey was so +perfect a little specimen of the human animal, and her heart was so +prone to tenderness, that she became, upon intimate acquaintance, the +incarnation of that condition into which the right sort of people pray +kind Providence to lead them not. The neighborhood gossips and prophets +freely predicted that Rita would marry Williams, in which case it was +surmised Miss Yates would carry her dimples into the Bright family. This +theory Sukey encouraged by arch glances and shy denials. + +Tom had become a great dandy, and considered himself one of the +commercial features of the Indiana metropolis. He would have his old +home friends, including Sukey, believe that he directed the policy of +Fisher and Fox, and that he was also the real business brain in the +office of Roger Williams, where he occupied the position of confidential +clerk. He was of little real value to Williams, save in the matter of +wooing Tom's sister. Tom knew that he held his clerkship only by the +tenure of Rita's smiles, and Williams, by employing him, gained an ally +not at all to be despised. + +On a certain Monday morning, after Rita had the day previous shown +marked preference to Dic, Williams said:-- + +"Tom, father orders me to cut down expenses, and I fear I shall be +compelled to begin with your salary. I regret the necessity, but the +governor's orders are imperative. We will let it stand as it is for this +month and will see what can be done afterward." + +This gentle hint was not lost on Thomas. He went home that day to +dinner, and Rita felt the heavy hand of her brother's displeasure. + +"You are the most selfish, ungrateful girl living," said Tom, who +honestly thought his fair sister had injured him. Tom's sense of truth, +like his mother's, ran parallel to his wishes. + +"Why?" asked Rita, wonderingly. Had the earth slipped from its axis, +Tom and his mother would have placed the blame on Rita. + +"Why?" repeated Tom. "Because you know I have a good position with +Williams. He pays me a better salary than any one else would give me; +yet you almost insulted him yesterday and went off for a walk with that +country jake." + +"Isn't Dic your friend?" asked Rita. + +"No, of course he ain't," replied Tom. "Do you think I'd take him out +calling, with such clothes as he wears, to see any of the girls?" + +"I hope not," answered Rita, struggling with a smile. + +"No, sir," insisted Tom, "and if I lose my place because you mistreat +Williams on Dic's account, he shan't come into this house. Do you +understand? If he does, I'll kick him out." + +"You kick Dic!" returned Rita, laughing. "You would be afraid to say +'boo' to him. Tom, I should be sorry to see you after you had tried to +kick Dic." + +"Well, I'll tell you now, Sis," said Tom, threateningly, "you treat +Williams right. If you don't, your big, jakey friend will suffer." + +"It is on Dic's capital that father is making so much money," responded +Rita. "Had it not been for him we would still be on Blue. I certainly +wish we were back there." + +"Your father will soon pay Dic his money," said Mrs. Bays, solemnly, +"and then we will be free to act as we wish." + +"The debt to Dic is no great thing," said Tom. "The firm owes Williams +nearly four times that amount, and he isn't a man who will stand much +foolishness. Father is not making so much money, either, as you think +for, and the first thing you know, with your smartness, you will ruin +him and me both, if you keep on making a fool of yourself. But that +wouldn't hurt you. You don't think of nobody but yourself." + +"That has always been Rita's chief fault," remarked the Chief Justice, +sitting in solemn judgment upon a case that was not before her. Poor +Rita was beginning to feel that she was a monster of selfishness. Her +father came feebly to her defence. + +"I don't believe the girl lives," said Thomas, Sr., "who is less selfish +than Rita. But Fisher and I do owe Williams a great deal of money, and +are not making as much as we did at first. The crops failed last summer, +and collections are hard. Williams has been pressing for money, and I +hope all the family will treat him well, for he is the kind of man who +might take out his spite upon me, for the sake of getting even with +somebody else." + +Rita's heart sank. Her father, though a weak vassal, had long been her +only ally. + +Had Williams not been a suitor for her hand, Rita would have found him +agreeable; and if her heart had been free, he might have won it. So long +as he maintained the attitude of friend and did not conflict with Dic's +claims, he was well received; but when he became a lover--a condition +difficult to refrain from--she almost hated and greatly feared him. +Despite her wretchedness, she accepted his visits and invitations for +her father's sake, and at times felt that she was under the spell of a +cruel wizard from Boston. With all these conditions, the battle of Dic's +wooing, though he held the citadel,--Rita's heart,--was by no means an +even fight. There were other causes operating that might eventually rout +him, even from that citadel. + +One evening, while sitting before Billy Little's fire, Dic's campaign +was discussed in detail. The young man said:-- + +"Rita and I are to be married soon after I return from New York. If her +mother consents, well and good; if she refuses, we will bear up +manfully under her displeasure and ignore it. I have often thought of +your remark about Mrs. Bays as a mother-in-law." + +"She certainly would be ideal," responded Billy. "But I hope you will +get the girl. She's worth all the trouble the old lady can make." + +"Why do you say 'hope'?" asked Dic. "I'm sure of getting her. Why, Billy +Little, if I were to lose that girl, I believe I should go mad." + +"No, you wouldn't," returned his friend. "You would console yourself +with the dimpler." + +"Why, Billy Little, you are crazy--excuse me--but you don't understand," +expostulated Dic. "For me, all that is worth possessing in the whole big +universe is concentrated in one small bit of humanity. Her little body +encompasses it all. Sukey Yates could be nothing to me, even though I +cared nothing for Rita. She has too many other friends, as she calls +them, and probably is equally generous to all." + +"If you care for Rita, you should remain away from Sukey," remarked +Billy. "She may be comprehensive in her affections, and she may have +been--to state it mildly--overtender at times; but when a girl of her +ardent temperament falls in love, she becomes dangerous, because she is +really very attractive to the eye." + +"I don't go there often, and I'll take your advice and remain away. I +have feared the danger you speak of, but--" + +"Speak out, Dic; you may trust me," said Billy. Dic continued:-- + +"I don't like to speak of a girl as I was going to speak of Sukey, but +I'll explain. I have, of course, been unable to explain to Rita, and I'm +a selfish brute to go to Sukey's at all. Rita has never complained, but +there is always a troubled look in her eyes when she jestingly speaks +of Sukey as my 'other girl.' Well, it's this way: Sukey often comes to +see mother, who prefers her to Rita, and if she comes in the evening, of +course I take her home. I believe I have not deliberately gone over to +see her three times in all my life. Sometimes I ride home from church +with her and spend part of the evening. Sukey is wonderfully pretty, and +her health is so good that at times she looks like a little nymph. She +is, in a way, entertaining too. As you say, she appeals to the eye, and +when she grows affectionate, her purring and her dimples make a +formidable array not at all to be despised. You are right. She is the +same to a score of men, and I could not fall in love with her were she +the only girl on earth. I should be kicked for speaking so of her or of +any girl, but you know I would not speak so freely to any one but you. +Speaking to you seems almost like thinking." + +"If it makes you think, I shall be glad you spoke," answered Billy. + +"No more Sukey for me," said Dic. "I'll have nothing more to do with +her. I want to be decent and worthy of Rita. I want to be true to her, +and Sukey is apt to lead me in the other direction, without even the +excuse on my part of caring for her. An honest man will not deliberately +lead himself into temptation." + +Upon the Sunday previous to Dic's intended departure for New York he +visited Rita. He had made this New York trip once before, and had +returned safely, therefore its terrors for Rita were greatly reduced. +Her regret on account of the second expedition was solely because she +would be separated from Dic for three or four months, and that +bitterness was sweetened by the thought that she would have him always +after his return. + +"How shall I act while you are away?" she asked. "Shall I continue to +receive Mr. Williams, or shall I refuse to see him? You must decide for +me, and I'll act as you wish. You know how unhappy mother will be if I +refuse to see him and--and, you know she will be very severe with me. I +would not care so much for that, although her harshness hurts me +terribly. But mother's in bad health--her heart is troubling her a great +deal of late--and I can't bear to cause her pain. On the other hand, it +tortures me when that man comes near me, and it must pain you when I +receive him kindly. I can't bear to pain you and--and at times I fear if +I permit his attention you will--will doubt me. That would kill me, Dic; +I really believe it would." + +"Don't worry on that score," replied Dic, placing his hand on her heart, +"there is nothing but truth here." + +"I hope not, Dic," she replied. She could not boast even of her +fidelity. There might be many sorts of evil in that heart, for all she +knew. + +"Indeed, there is not," said Dic, tenderly. "If by any chance we should +ever be separated,--if we should ever lose each other,--it will not be +because of your bad faith." + +"But, Dic," cried Rita, "that terrible 'if.' It is the first time you +ever used the word with reference to us." + +"It means nothing, Rita," answered Dic, reassuringly. "There can be no +'if' between you and me. As for Williams, you must receive him and treat +him kindly. Tom is his clerk, and I should hate to see Tom lose his +position. Tom is a mighty good fellow. You say your father owes Williams +a large debt. He might, if he chose, act ugly. Therefore, you must act +prettily. Poor Williams! I'm sorry for him. We will give them all the +slip when I return." + +The slip came in an unexpected manner, and Dic did not go to New York. + +Rita's continued aversion to Williams, instead of cooling that young +man's ardor, fired it to a degree previously unknown in the cool-blooded +Williams family. He had visited his cultured home for the purpose of +dilating upon the many charms of body, soul, and mind possessed by this +fair girl of the wilderness. His parents, knowing him to be a young man +of sound Mayflower judgment and worthy to be trusted for making a good, +sensible bargain in all matters of business, including matrimony, +readily gave their consent, and offered him his father's place at the +head of the agricultural firm, in case he should marry. They were wise +enough to know that a young man well married is a young man well made; +and they had no doubt, judging from Roger's description, that Rita was +the girl of girls. + +Williams did not tell his parents that up to that time his wooing had +been in vain, and they, with good reason, did not conceive it possible +that any girl in her right mind would refuse their son. Roger was +willing, Roger's parents were willing, Rita's parents were eager for the +match; every person and everything needful were on his side, save one +small girl. Roger thought that trifling obstacle would soon yield to the +pressure of circumstances, the persuasion of conditions, and the charm +of his own personality. He and the conditions had been warring upon the +small obstacle for many months, and still it was as small as ever--but +no smaller. The non-aggressive, feather-bed stubbornness of +insignificant obstacles is often very irritating to an enterprising +soul. + +Williams was a fine, intellectual fellow, and his knowledge of human +nature had enabled him to estimate--at least to approximate--the +inestimable value of the girl he so ardently desired. Her rare beauty +would, he thought, grace a palace; while her manifold virtues and good +common-sense would accomplish a much greater task, and grace a home. +Added to these reasons of state was a passionate love on the part of +Williams of which any woman might have been proud. Williams was, +ordinarily, sure-footed, and would have made fewer mistakes in his +wooing had his love been less feverish. He also had a great fund of +common-sense, but love is inimical to that rare commodity, and under the +blind god's distorting influence the levelest head will, in time, become +conical. So it happened that, after many months of cautious +manoeuvring, Williams began to make mistakes. + +For the sake of her parents and Tom, Rita had treated Williams with +quiet civility, and when she learned that she could do so without +precipitating a too great civility on his part, she gathered confidence +and received him with undisguised cordiality. Roger, in his eagerness, +took undue hope. Believing that the obstacle had become very small, he +determined, upon occasion, to remove it entirely, by one bold stroke. +Rita's kindness and Roger's growing hope and final determination to try +the issue of one pivotal battle, all came into being during the period +when Dic had reduced his visits to one month. The final charge by the +Boston 'vincibles was made on the evening following Dic's visit +last-mentioned. + +An ominous quiet had reigned in the Williams camp for several months, +and the beleaguered city, believing that hostilities had ceased, was +lulled into a state of unwatchfulness, which, in turn, had given great +hope to the waiting cohorts. + +Upon the Monday evening referred to, the girl commanding the beleaguered +forces received the enemy, whom she wished might be her friend, into her +outworks, the front parlor. Little dreaming that a perfidious Greek was +entering her Trojan gates, she laughed and talked charmingly, hoping, if +possible, to smooth the road for her father and Tom by the help of her +all-powerful smiles. Poor and weak she considered those smiles to be; +but the Greek thought them wondrous, and coveted them as no Greek ever +coveted Troy. Feeling that Williams sought only her friendship, and +being more than willing to give him that, she was her natural self, and +was more winsome and charming than she had ever before appeared to him. +Her graciousness, which he should have been wise enough to understand +but did not, her winsomeness and beauty, which he should have been +strong enough to withstand but was not, and his love, which he tried to +resist but could not, induced him upon that evening to make an attack. + +Many little items of local interest had been discussed, foreign affairs +were touched upon, books, music, and the blessed weather had each been +duly considered, and short periods of silence had begun to occur, +together with an occasional smothered yawn from Rita. Williams, with the +original purpose of keeping the conversation going and with no intent to +boast, said:-- + +"My father has purchased a new home in Boston beyond the Common, over on +the avenue, and has offered to give me his old house. He has determined +to retire from the firm and I am to take his place. I shall start for +Boston Christmas Day"--here his self-control forsook him--"and, Rita, if +you will go with me, I shall be the happiest man on earth." + +The girl remained silent, feeling that he knew her mind on the subject, +and hoping he would proceed no farther. Hope, spurred by desire, is +easily awakened, and Williams, misunderstanding her silence, +continued:-- + +"I do not mean to boast, but I cannot help telling you that your home in +Boston, if you will go with me, will be one of the most beautiful in the +city. All that wealth can buy you shall have, and all that love and +devotion can bring you shall possess. Other girls would jump at the +chance--" (poor conical head--this to this girl) "but I want you, +Rita--want you of all the world." + +Rita rose to her feet, surprised and alarmed by this Grecian trick, and +Williams, stepping quickly to her side, grasped her hand. He had lost +his wonted self-control and was swept forward by the flood of his +long-pent-up emotions. + +"Mr. Williams, I beg you will not--" cried Rita, endeavoring to withdraw +her hand. + +"You shall listen to me," he cried, half in anger, half pleadingly. "I +have loved you as tenderly and unselfishly as woman ever was loved, +since I first knew you. I know I am not worthy of you, but I am the +equal of any other man, and you shall treat me fairly." + +The girl, in alarm, struggled to free herself from his grasp, but he +held her and continued:-- + +"No other man can give you the love I feel for you, and you shall +respond to it." + +"It is impossible, Mr. Williams," she said pleadingly. "You do not know +all. I am sorry, so sorry, to give you pain." Her ever ready tears began +to flow. "But I do not feel toward you as you wish. I--there is another. +He is--has been very near to me since I was a child, and I have promised +to be his wife this long time." + +Her words were almost maddening to Williams, and he retorted as if he +were, in truth, mad. + +"That country fellow? You shall never marry him! I swear it! He is a +poor, supercilious fool and doesn't know it! He has nothing in this +world, and has never seen anything beyond the limits of his father's +farm." + +"He has been to New York," interrupted Rita, in all seriousness. + +Williams laughed. "I tell you he is a boor. He is a--" + +"He is to be my husband, Mr. Williams, and I hope you will not speak +ill of him," said Rita, with cold dignity. + +"He is not to be your husband," cried Williams, angrily. "You shall be +mine--mine; do you hear? Mine! I will have you, if I must--" he caught +the girl in his arms, and pressing her head back upon the bend of his +elbow, kissed her lips to his heart's content and to his own everlasting +undoing. When he released her she started from the room, but he, +grasping her arm, detained her, saying:-- + +"Rita, I beg your pardon. I lost my head. I am sorry. Forgive me." + +"There can be no forgiveness for you," she said, speaking slowly, "and I +wish you to let me leave the room." + +"Rita, forgive me," he pleaded. "I tell you I was insane when I--I did +that. You have almost driven me mad. You can surely forgive me when you +know that my act was prompted by my love. Your heart is ready with +forgiveness and love for every one but me, and I, more than all others, +love you. I beg you to forgive me, and if I cannot have your love, +forget what I have done this night and again be my friend." + +After a long, painful pause, she spoke deliberately: "I would not marry +you, Mr. Williams, if you were a king, or if I should die by reason of +refusing you. I cannot now be even your friend. I shall tell my father +and brother what you have done, and they will order you out of this +house. I will tell Dic, and he will kill you!" Her eyes, usually so +gentle, were hard and cold, as she continued: "There is the door. I hope +you will never darken it again." + +She again started to leave the room, and he again detained her. He knew +that disgrace would follow exposure, and, being determined to silence +her at any cost, said angrily:-- + +"If you tell your father, I will take from him his store, his home, his +farm. He owes me more than all combined are worth. If you will not +listen to me through love, you shall do so from fear. I am sorry, very +sorry, for what happened. I know the consequences if you speak of it. No +one can be made to understand exactly how it happened, and I will +protect myself; of that you may be sure. If you speak of what I did, +driven to it by my love for you, I say I will turn your father and +mother into the street. They will be penniless in their old age. Your +brother Tom is a thief. He has been stealing from me ever since he came +to my office. Only last night I laid a trap for him and caught him in +the act of stealing fifty dollars. He took the money and lost it at +Welch's gambling saloon. He has taken, in all, nearly a thousand +dollars. I have submitted to his thefts on your account. I have extended +your father's notes because he is your father. But if you tell any one +that I--I kissed you to-night, or if you repeat what I have told +concerning your father and brother, your parents go to the street, and +Tom to the penitentiary. Now, do you understand me?" + +"Yes." + +"Will you remain silent?" + +"Yes." + +Then he took his hat, saying, "I have been beside myself to-night, but +it was through love for you, and you will forgive me, won't you?" + +"Yes." + +"And I may come again?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"And we will forget all that has happened this evening and you will be +my friend?" + +"Yes." + +"If you will forgive me," he continued, recovering his senses, "and will +allow me the sweet privilege of your friendship, I promise never again +to speak of my love until you have given me permission. Shall it be a +compact?" + +"Yes," murmured the girl. + +"Will you give me your hand?" he asked. She offered the hand, and he +clasping it, said:-- + +"You have much to forgive, but your heart is full of gentleness, and you +have promised." + +"Yes, I have promised," she returned huskily. + +"Good night, Rita." + +"Good night." + +The girl hurried to her room, and, almost unconscious of what she was +doing, dressed for the night. During the first few minutes after she had +extinguished the candle and had crept into bed, she could not think +coherently, but soon consciousness came in an ingulfing flood. +Williams's kisses seemed to stick to her. She rubbed her lips till they +were raw, but still the clinging pollution seemed to penetrate to her +soul. Her first coherent thought, of course, was of Dic. No man but he +had ever, till that night, touched her lips, and with him a kiss was a +sacrament. Now he would scorn her. The field of her disaster seemed to +broaden, as she thought of it, and with the chastity of her lips she +felt that she had lost everything worth having in life. Abandoning her +pillow, she covered her head with the counterpane, and drawing her knees +to her breast, lay trembling and sobbing. Dic was lost to her. There +seemed to be no other possible outcome to the present situation. She +feared Williams as never before, and felt that she was in his clutches +beyond escape. The situation seemed hopeless beyond even the reach of +prayer, her usual refuge, and she did not pray. She knew of her father's +debt to Williams, and had always feared that Tom was not to be trusted. +She was convinced without evidence other than Williams's words that he +had told the truth, and she knew that ruin and disgrace for her father +and Tom waited upon a nod from the man whom she hated, and that the nod +waited upon her frown. + +The next morning Rita's face lacked much of its wonted beauty. Her eyes +were red and dim, the cheeks were pale and dim, her lips were blue and +dim, and all the world, seen by her eyes, was dark and dim. The first +thing that must be done, of course, was to tell Dic of the ravaged kiss. +She had no more desire to conceal that terrible fact from him than a +wounded man has to deceive the surgeon. He must be told without delay, +even should he at once spurn her forever. + +She feared Williams, bearing in mind his threat, and determined first to +pledge Dic to secrecy, and then to tell him of her disgrace. She wrote +to him, begging him to come to her at once; and he lost no time in +going. + +He arrived at the Bays house an hour past noon, and Rita soon had him to +herself in the front parlor. When they entered the room and were alone +he took her hand; but she withdrew it, saying:-- + +"No, no; wait till you hear what has happened." + +He readily saw that something terrible had transpired. "What is it, +Rita? Tell me quickly." + +"I can't, Dic, till I have your solemn promise that you will never +repeat what I am about to tell you." + +"But, Rita--" he began, in expostulation. + +"No--no, you must promise. You must swear--if you will hear." + +"I promise. I swear if you wish. What can it be?" + +Then she drew him to a settee, and with downcast eyes began her piteous +story. + +"Monday evening Mr. Williams came to call upon me. You know you said I +must receive him kindly. I did so. And he again asked me to--to--you +know--to marry him. When I told him it was impossible, he grew angry; +and when I became frightened and tried to leave the room, he caught me +by the hand and would not let me go. Then he told me again how +desperately he cared for me; and when I answered angrily and tried to +escape, he held me and--and--oh, Dic, I can't tell you. I thought I +could, but I can't. I--I loathe myself." She bent her head forward, and +covering her face with her hands, sobbed convulsively. + +"Go on, Rita. My God! you must tell me," demanded Dic. + +"I know I must," she replied between sobs. "Oh, Dic, do not hate me. He +held me to him as you sometimes do,--but, oh, it was so different. I was +helpless, and he bent back my head and kissed me on the lips till I +thought I should faint." + +"The cowardly hound. He shall pay dearly for his--" + +"I have your promise, your oath," said the girl, interrupting him. + +"But, Rita--" + +"I trusted you, Dic, and I know you will faithfully keep your promise. +Father owes Williams a large sum of money, and Tom has been stealing +from him." Here she began to weep. "He will ruin father and send Tom to +the penitentiary if he learns that I have told you this. He told me he +would, and I promised I would tell no one; but my duty to you is higher +than my duty to keep my promise. Now you know why I held you off when we +came in here." + +"No, I don't know," he replied. "You have not promised to marry him?" + +"No, no," she returned excitedly. + +"Then why did you refuse me?" + +"I'm not worthy to be your wife. I feel that I have been contaminated," +she answered. + +"No, no, girl," he cried joyfully. "It was not your fault. The falling +snow is not purer than you, and truth itself is not truer than your +heart. I go to New York soon, and when I return all your troubles will +cease." + +"They have ceased already, Dic," she murmured, placing her head upon his +breast, while tears fell unheeded over her cheeks. "I thought an hour +ago I should never again be happy, but I am happy already. Dic, you are +a wonderful man to produce such a change in so short a time." + +"I am wonderful only in what you give me," he answered. + +"How beautifully you speak," she whispered; but the remainder of that +interview is not at all necessary to this story. + +Dic left Rita late in the afternoon and met Williams on the street down +town. They could not easily pass each other without exchanging words, so +they stopped and spoke stiffly about the weather, past, present, and +future. Dic tried to conceal all traces of resentment, and partially +succeeded. Williams, still smarting from his troubles and mistakes with +Rita, and hating Dic accordingly, concealed his feelings with poor +success. The hatred of these men for each other was plain in every word +and act, and in a few moments, Williams, unable longer to bear the +strain, said:-- + +"This sham between us is disgusting. Let us settle our differences as +gentlemen adjust such affairs." + +"Do you mean that we shall fight it out?" asked Dic. + +"Yes," returned Williams. "You are not afraid to fight, are you?" + +"No, and yes," answered Dic. "I have had but few fights--I fear I could +not go into a fight in cold blood and--and for many reasons I do not +wish to fight you." + +"I supposed you would decline. I knew you to be a coward," sneered +Williams, growing brave upon seeing Dic's disinclination. + +"No," responded Dic, calmly looking into Williams's face, "I have +nothing to fear from you. You could not stand against me even for one +minute." + +"But you misunderstand me," said Williams. "I do not wish to fight with +my fists. That is the method of ruffians and country bullies. I am not +surprised at your mistake." + +Dic laughed softly and replied: "I do not know why your words don't +anger me. Perhaps because I pity you. I can afford to be magnanimous and +submit to your ravings; therefore, I am neither angry nor afraid." + +"I propose to settle our difficulty as gentlemen adjust such affairs," +said Williams. "Of course, you know nothing about the methods of +gentlemen. I challenge you to meet me in a duel. Now do you +understand--understand?" + +Williams was nervous, and there was a murderous gleam in his eyes. Dic's +heart throbbed faster for a moment, but soon took again its regular +beat. He rapidly thought over the situation and said:-- + +"I don't want to kill you and don't want you to kill me." He paused for +a moment with a smile on his lips and continued: "Suppose we let the +girl decide this between us. But perhaps I am again showing my ignorance +of gentlemanly methods. Do gentlemen force their attentions upon +unwilling ladies?" + +"Oh, if you refuse," retorted Williams, ignoring his question, "I can +slap your face now in the public streets." + +"Don't do it, Williams," responded Dic, looking to the ground and trying +to remain calm. + +"Why?" Williams asked. + +"Because--I will fight you if you insist, without the occasion of a +street brawl. Another name might be brought into that." + +"Am I to understand that you accept my challenge?" asked Williams. + +"Yes, if you insist," replied Dic, calmly, as if he were accepting an +invitation to dinner. "I have always supposed that this sort of an +affair should be arranged between gentlemen by their friends; but of +course I don't know how gentlemen act under these circumstances. Perhaps +you don't consider me a gentleman, and you certainly must have some +doubts in your mind concerning yourself; therefore, it may be proper for +us to arrange this little matter with each other." + +"I suppose you would prefer seconds," returned Williams. "They might +prevent a meeting." + +After a few moments of silence Dic said, "If we fight, I fear another +person's name will be dragged into our quarrel." + +"You may, if you wish, find plenty of excuses," returned Roger. "If you +wish to accept my challenge, do so. If not, say so, and I will take my +own course." + +"Oh, I'll accept," returned Dic, cheerily. "As the challenged party, if +we were gentlemen, I believe I might choose the weapons." + +"Yes," responded Williams. + +"What do you suppose would be the result were I to choose rifles at two +hundred yards?" asked Dic, with an ugly smile on his face. + +"I should be delighted," responded the other. "I expected you to choose +hoes or pitchforks." + +"I think it fair to tell you," said Dic, "that I can hit a silver dollar +four times out of five shots at two hundred yards, and you will probably +do well to hit a barn door once out of ten at that distance. I will let +you see me shoot before I definitely choose weapons. Afterwards, if you +prefer some other, I will abide your choice." + +"I am satisfied with your choice," responded Williams, who prided +himself upon his rifle-shooting, in which accomplishment Dic had +underrated his antagonist. + +"We must adopt some plan to prevent people from connecting another +person with this affair," suggested Dic. "If you will come down to +Bays's farm for a day's hunting, I will meet you there, and the result +may be attributed by the survivor to a hunting accident." + +"The plan suits me," said Williams. "I'll meet you there to-morrow at +noon. I'll tell Tom I have an engagement to go squirrel-hunting with +you." + +Dic rode home, and of course carried the news of his forthcoming duel to +Billy Little. + +"There are worse institutions in this world than the duel," remarked +Billy, much to his listener's surprise. "It helps to thin out the +fools." + +"But, Billy Little, I must fight him," responded Dic. "He insists, and +will not accept my refusal. He says I am afraid to fight him." + +"If he should say you were a blackamoor, I suppose you would be black," +retorted Billy. "Is that the way of it?" + +"But I am glad he does not give me an opportunity to refuse," said Dic. + +"I supposed as much," answered Billy. "You will doubtless be delighted +if he happens to put a bullet through you, and will surely be happy for +life if you kill him." + +"It is his doing, Billy Little," said Dic, with an ugly gleam in his +eyes, "and I would not balk him. Billy Little, I would fight that man if +I knew I should hang for it the next day. I'll tell you--he grossly +insulted Rita Monday evening. He held her by force and kissed her lips +till she was hardly conscious." + +"Good God!" cried Billy, springing to his feet and trembling with +excitement. "Fight him, Dic! Kill him, Dic! Kill the brute! If you +don't, by the good God, I will." + +"You need not urge me, Billy Little. I'm quite willing enough. Still I +hope I shall not kill him." + +"You hope you will not kill him?" demanded Billy. "If you do not, I +will. Where do you meet?" + +"He will be at Bays's house to-morrow noon, and we will go up to my +cleared eighty, half a mile north. There we will step off a course of +two hundred yards and fire. Whatever happens we will say was the result +of a hunting accident." + +Billy determined to be in hiding near the field of battle, and was +secreted in the forest adjoining the cleared eighty an hour before noon +next day. Late in the morning Dic took his rifle and walked down to the +Bays's house. I shall not try to describe his sensations. + +Williams was waiting, and Dic found him carefully examining his gun. The +gun contained a bullet which, Dic thought, with small satisfaction, +might within a short time end his worldly troubles, and the troubles +seemed more endurable than ever before. Sleep had cooled his brain since +his conversation with Billy, and he could not work himself into a +murderous state of mind. He possessed Rita, and love made him +magnanimous. He did not want to fight, though fear was no part of his +reluctance. The manner of his antagonist soon left no doubt in Dic's +mind that the battle was sure to come off. Something in +Williams--perhaps it was his failure to meet his enemy's eyes--alarmed +Dic's suspicions, and for a moment he feared treachery at the hands of +his morose foe; but he dismissed the thought as unworthy, and opening +the gate started up the river path, taking the lead. He was ashamed to +show his distrust of Williams, though he could not entirely throw it +off, and the temptation to turn his head now and then to watch his +following enemy was irresistible. They had been walking but a few +minutes when Dic, prompted by distrust, suddenly turned his head and +looked into the barrel of a gun held firmly to the shoulder of our +gentleman from Boston. With the nimbleness of a cat, Dic sprang to one +side, and a bullet whistled past his face. One second later in turning +his head and the hunting accident would have occurred. + +After the shot Williams in great agitation said:-- + +"I saw a squirrel and have missed it." + +"You may walk ahead," answered Dic, with not a nerve ruffled. "You might +see another squirrel." + +Williams began to reload his gun, but Dic interrupted the proceeding. + +"Don't load now. We will soon reach the clearing." + +Williams continued reloading, and was driving the patch down upon the +powder. Dic cocked his rifle, and raising it halfway to his shoulder, +said:-- + +"Don't put the bullet in unless you wish me to see a squirrel. I'll not +miss. Throw me your bullet pouch." + +Williams, whose face looked like a mask of death, threw the bullet pouch +to Dic, and, in obedience to a gesture, walked forward on the path. +After taking a few steps he looked backward to observe the man he had +tried to murder. + +"You need not watch me," Dic said; "I'm not hunting squirrels." + +Soon they reached the open field. Dic had cleared every foot of the +ground, and loved it because he had won it single-handed in a battle +royal with nature; but nature was a royal foe that, when conquered, gave +royal spoils of victory. The rich bottom soil had year by year repaid +Dic many-fold for his labor. He loved the land, and if fate should prove +unkind to him, he would choose that spot of all others upon which to +fall. + +"Is this the place?" asked Williams. + +"Yes," answered Dic, tossing the bullet pouch. "Now you may load." + +When Williams had finished loading, Dic said: "I will drop my hat here. +We will walk from each other, you going west, I going east. The sun is +in the south. When we have each taken one hundred steps, we will call +'Ready,' turn, and fire when we choose." + +Accordingly, Dic dropped his hat, and the two men started, one toward +the east, one toward the west, while the sun was shining in the south. +Williams quickly ran his hundred steps. + +Dic had counted forty steps when he heard the cry "Dic" coming from the +forest ten yards to the south, and simultaneously the sharp crack of a +rifle behind him. At the same instant his left leg gave way under him +and he fell to the ground, supposing he had stepped into a muskrat hole. +After he had fallen he turned quickly toward Williams and saw that +gentleman hastily reloading his gun. Then he fully realized that his +antagonist had shot him, though he was unable to account for the voice +he had heard from the forest. That mystery, too, was quickly explained +when he heard Billy's dearly loved voice calling to Williams:-- + +"Drop that gun, or you die within a second." + +Turning to the left Dic saw his friend holding the rifle which had +fallen from his own hands when he went down, and the little fellow +looked the picture of determined ferocity. Williams dropped his gun. Dic +was sitting upright where he had fallen, and Billy, handing him the +weapon, said:-- + +"Kill him, Dic; kill him as you would a wolf. I'm afraid if I shoot I'll +miss him, and then he will reload and kill you." + +Williams was a hundred and forty yards away, but Dic could easily have +pierced his heart. He took the gun and lifted it to his shoulder. +Williams stood motionless as a tree upon a calm day. Dic lowered his +gun, but after a pause lifted it again and covered Williams's heart. He +held the gun to his shoulder for a second or two, then he threw it to +the ground, saying:-- + +"I can't kill him. Tell him to go, Billy Little. Tell him to go before I +kill him." + +[Illustration: "'KILL HIM, DIC; KILL HIM AS YOU WOULD A WOLF.'"] + +Williams took up his gun from the ground and started to leave, when Dic +said to Billy Little:-- + +"Tell him to leave his bullets." + +Williams dropped the bullet pouch without a command from Billy, and +again started to leave. Dic tried to rise to his feet, but failed. + +"I guess I'm wounded," he said hoarsely. "My God, Billy Little, look at +the blood I've lost! I--I feel weak--and--and dizzy. I believe I'm going +to faint," and he accordingly did so. Billy cut away the trousers from +Dic's wounded leg, disclosing a small round hole in the thigh. The blood +was issuing in ugly spurts, and at once Billy knew an artery had been +wounded. He tore the trousers leg into shreds and made a tourniquet +which he tied firmly above the wound and soon the hæmorrhage was greatly +reduced. By the time the tourniquet was adjusted, Williams was well down +towards the river, and Billy called to him:-- + +"Go up the river to the first house and tell Mrs. Bright to send the man +down with the wagon. Perhaps if you assist us, the theory of the +accident will be more plausible." + +Williams did as directed. Dic was taken home. Within an hour Kennedy, +summoned by an unwilling messenger, was by the wounded man's side. Billy +Little was watching with Dic's mother, anxious to hear the doctor's +verdict. There was still another anxious watcher, our pink and white +little nymph, Sukey, though the pink had, for the time, given way to the +white. She made no effort to conceal her grief, and was willing that all +who looked might see her love for the man who was lying on the bed +unconscious. + +Williams remained with Bays's tenant till next day, and then returned to +Indianapolis, carrying the news of the "accident." + + + + +THE LOVE POWDER + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LOVE POWDER + + +Rita was with her mother when she received the terrible news. Of course +the accident was the theme of conversation, and Rita was in deep +trouble. Even Mrs. Bays was moved by the calamity that had befallen the +man whose face, since his early boyhood, had been familiar in her own +house. At first Rita made no effort to express her grief. + +"It is too bad, too bad," was the extent of Mrs. Bays's comment. Taking +courage from even so meagre an expression of sympathy, Rita begged that +she might go home--she still called the banks of Blue her home--and help +Mrs. Bright nurse Dic. Mrs. Bays gazing sternly at the malefactor, +uttered the one word "No," and Rita's small spark of hope was +extinguished almost before it had been kindled. + +Within a few days Billy Little went to see Rita, and relieved her of +anxiety concerning Dic. Before he left he told her that Sukey was +staying with Mrs. Bright and assisting in the nursing and the work. + +"I have been staying there at night," said Billy, "and Sukey hangs about +the bed at all hours." + +Billy did not wish to cause jealousy in Rita's breast, but hoped to +induce her to expostulate gently with Dic about the attentions he +permitted himself to receive from the dimpler. For a minute or two his +words caused a feeling of troubled jealousy in Rita's heart, but she +soon dismissed it as unworthy of her, and unjust to Dic and Sukey. To +that young lady she wrote: "I am not permitted to nurse him, and I thank +you for taking my place. I shall remember your goodness so long as I +live." + +The letter should have aroused in Sukey's breast high impulses and pure +motives; but it brought from her red lips, amid their nest of dimples, +the contemptuous expletive "Fool," and I am not sure that she was +entirely wrong. A due respect for the attractiveness and willingness of +her sisters is wise in a woman. Rita's lack of wisdom may be excused +because of the fact that her trust in Sukey was really a part of her +faith in Dic. + +Thus it came to pass that Dic did not go to New York, but was confined +to his home for several months with a fractured thigh bone. During that +period Rita was in constant prayer and Sukey in daily attendance. The +dimpler's never ceasing helpfulness to Dic and his mother won his +gratitude, while the dangerous twinkling of the dimples and the pretty +sheen of her skin became familiar to him as household gods. He had never +respected the girl, nor was his respect materially augmented by her +kindness, which at times overleaped itself; but his gratitude increased +his affection, and his sentiment changed from one of almost repugnance +to a kindly feeling of admiration for her seductive beauty, regard for +her kindly heart, and pleasure in her never failing good temper. + +Sukey still clung to her dominion over several hearts, receiving them +upon their allotted evenings; and although she had grown passionately +fond of Dic, she gave a moiety of kindness to her subjects, each in his +turn. She easily convinced each that he was the favored one, and that +the others were friends and were simply tolerated. She tried no such +coquetry with Dic, but gladly fed upon such crumbs as he might throw +her. If he unduly withheld the crumbs, she, unable to resist her +yearning for the unattainable, at times lost all maidenly reserve, and +by eloquent little signs and pleadings sought them at the hand of her +Dives. The heart of a coquette is to be won only by running away from +it, and Dic's victory over Sukey was achieved in retreat. + +During Dic's illness Tom's heart, quickened doubtless by jealousy, had +grown more and more to yearn for Sukey's manifold charms, physical and +temperamental. Billy Little, who did not like Sukey, said her charms +were "dimple-mental"; but Billy's heart was filled with many curious +prejudices, and Tom's judgment was much more to be relied upon in this +case. + +One morning when Sukey entered Dic's room she said: "Tom was to see me +last night. He said he would come up to see you to-day." + +"He meant that he will come up to see you," replied Dic, teasing her. +"One of these times I'll lose another friend to Indianapolis, and when I +go up there with my country ways you won't know me." + +"I'll never go to Indianapolis," Sukey responded, with a demure glance. +"Dear old Blue is good enough for me. The nearer I can live to it, the +better I shall be satisfied." Dic's lands were on the river banks, while +those of Sukey's father were a mile to the east. + +"If you lived too close to the river, you might fall in," returned Dic, +choosing to take Sukey's remark in jest. + +"I'm neither sugar nor salt," she retorted, "and I would not melt. I'm +sure I'm not sugar--" + +"But sugarish," interrupted Dic. + +"_You_ don't think I'm even sugarish," she returned poutingly. + +"Indeed I do," he replied; "but you must not tell Tom I said so." + +"Why not?" asked Sukey. "He's nothing to me--simply a friend." + +So the conversation would run, and Sukey, by judicious fishing, caught a +minnow now and then. + + * * * * * + +During the latter days of Dic's convalescence, Sukey paid a visit to her +friend Rita, and the girls from Blue attracted the beaux of the capital +city in great numbers. For the first time in Sukey's life she felt that +she had found a battle-field worthy of her prowess, and in truth she +really did great slaughter. Balls, hay rides, autumn picnics, and +nutting parties occurred in rapid succession. Tom and Williams were, of +course, as Tom expressed it, "Johnny on the spot," with our girls. + +After Rita's stormy interview with Williams she had, through fear, +continued to receive him in friendliness. At first the friendliness was +all assumed; but as the weeks passed, and he, by every possible means, +assured her that his rash act was sincerely repented, and under no +conditions was to be repeated, she gradually recovered her faith in him. +Her heart was so prone to forgive that it was an easy task to impose +upon it, and soon Williams, the Greek, was again encamped within the +walls of trusting Troy. He frequently devoted himself to other young +ladies, and our guileless little heroine joyfully reached the conclusion +that she no longer reigned queen of his cultured heart. For this reason +she became genuinely kind to him, and he accordingly gave her much of +his company during the month of Sukey's visit. + +One day a nutting party, including our four friends, set forth on their +way up White River. At the mouth of Fall Creek was a gypsy camp, and the +young folks stopped to have their fortunes told. The camp consisted of a +dozen covered wagons, each containing a bed, a stove, and cooking +utensils. To each wagon belonged a woman who was able and anxious to +foretell the future for the small sum of two bits. Our friends selected +the woman who was oldest and ugliest, those qualities having long been +looked upon as attributes of wisdom. Rita, going first, climbed over the +front wheel of the ugliest old woman's covered wagon, and entered the +temple of its high priestess. The front curtain was then drawn. The +interior of the wagon was darkened, and the candle in a small red +lantern was lighted. The hag took a cage from the top of the wagon where +it had been suspended, and when she opened the door a small screech owl +emerged and perched upon the shoulders of its mistress. There it +fluttered its wings and at short intervals gave forth a smothered +screech, allowing the noise to die away in its throat in a series of +disagreeable gurgles. When the owl was seated upon the hag's shoulder, +she took from a box a half-torpid snake, and entwined it about her neck. +With the help of these symbols of wisdom and cunning she at once began +to evoke her familiar spirits. To this end she made weird passes through +the air with her clawlike hands, crying in a whispered, high-pitched +wail the word, "Labbayk, labbayk," an Arabian word meaning "Here am I." + +Rita was soon trembling with fright, and begged the hag to allow her to +leave the wagon. + +"Sit where you are, girl," commanded the gypsy in sepulchral tones. "If +you attempt to pass, the snake will strike you and the owl will tear +you. The spirit of wisdom is in our presence. The Stone God has already +told me your fate. It is worth your while to hear it." + +Rita placed her trembling hand in the hag's claw. + +"No purer woman ever lived than you," began the sorceress; "but if you +marry the dark man who awaits you outside, you will become evil; you +will be untrue to him; you will soon leave him in company with another +man who is light of complexion, tall, and strong. Disgrace and ruin +await your family if you marry the light man. Even the Stone God cannot +foretell a woman's course when love draws her in opposite directions. +May the Stone God pity you." + +The hag's ominous words, fitting so marvellously the real situation, +frightened Rita and she cried, "Please let me out," but the gypsy held +her hand, saying:-- + +"Sit still, ye fool; sit and listen. For one shilling I will teach you a +spell which you may throw over the man you despise, and he will wither +and die; then you may marry the one of your choice, and all evil shall +be averted." + +"No, no!" screamed the girl, rising to her feet and forcing her way to +the front of the wagon. In passing the witch she stumbled, and in +falling, grasped the snake. The owl screeched, and Rita sprang screaming +from the wagon-seat to the ground. + +Sukey's turn came next, and although Rita begged her not to enter the +gypsy's den, our lady of the dimples climbed over the front wheel, eager +for forbidden fruit. + +The hideous witch, the owl, and the snake for a moment frightened Sukey; +but she, true daughter of Eve, hungered for apples, and was determined +to eat. + +After foretelling numerous journeys, disappointments, and pleasures +which would befall Sukey, the gypsy said:-- + +"You have many admirers, but there is one that remains indifferent to +your charms. You may win him, girl, if you wish." + +"How?" cried Sukey, with eagerness. + +"I can give you a love powder by which you may cause him to love you. I +cannot sell it; but a gift for a gift is no barter. If you will give me +gold, I will give you the powder." + +"I have no money with me," answered Sukey; "but I will come to-morrow +and bring you a gold piece." + +"It must be gold," said the hag, feeling sure of her prey. "A gift of +baser metal would kill the charm." + +"I will bring gold," answered Sukey. Laden with forbidden knowledge and +hope, she sprang from the front wheel into Tom's arms, and was very +happy. + +That night she asked Rita, "Have you a gold dollar?" + +"Yes," replied Rita, hesitatingly, "I have a gold dollar and three +shillings. I'm saving my money until Christmas. I want five dollars to +buy a--" She stopped speaking, not caring to tell that she had for +months been keeping her eyes on a trinket for Dic. "I am not +accumulating very rapidly," she continued laughing, "and am beginning to +fear I shall not be able to save that much by Christmas." + +"Will you loan it to me--the gold dollar?" asked Sukey. + +"Yes," returned Rita, somewhat reluctantly, having doubts of Sukey's +intention and ability to repay. But she handed over the gold dollar with +which the borrower hoped to steal the lender's lover. + +Next day Sukey asked Tom to drive her to the gypsy camp, but she did not +explain that her purpose was to buy a love powder with which she hoped +to win another man. Sukey, with all her amiable disposition,--Billy +Little used to say she was as good-natured as a hound pup,--was a girl +who could kiss your lips, gaze innocently into your eyes, and betray you +to Cæsar, all unconscious of her own perfidy. Rita was her friend. Still +she unblushingly borrowed her money, hoping therewith to steal Dic. Tom +was her encouraged lover; still she wished him to help her in obtaining +the love powder by which she might acquire the love of another man. +Sukey was generous; but the world and the people thereof were made for +her use, and she, of course, would use them. She did not know she was +false--but why should I dwell upon poor Sukey's peccadilloes as if she +were the only sinner, or responsible for her sins? Who is responsible +for either sin or virtue? + +Rita deserved no praise for being true, pure, gentle, and unselfish. +Those qualities were given with her heart. The Chief Justice should not +be censured because she held peculiar theories of equity and looked upon +the words "as we forgive those who trespass against us" as mere +surplusage. She was born with her theories and opinions. Sukey should +not be blamed because of her dimples and her too complacent smiles. For +what purpose were dimples and smiles created save to give pleasure, and +incidentally to cause trouble? But I promise there shall be no more +philosophizing for many pages to come. + +Sukey, by the help of Tom and Rita, purchased her love powder, and, +being eager to administer it, informed Rita that evening that she +intended to return home next morning. Accordingly, she departed, leaving +Rita to receive alone the attentions of her persistent lover. + +Within a week or two after Sukey's return, Dic, having almost recovered, +went to see Rita. He was not able to go a-horseback, so he determined to +take the stage, and Billy Little went with him as body-guard. + +While they waited for the coach in Billy's back room, Williams became +the topic of conversation. + +"He will marry Rita in spite of you," said Billy, "if you don't take her +soon. What do you say? Shall we bring her home with us to-morrow? She +was eighteen last week." Billy was eager to carry off the girl, for he +knew the Williams danger, and stood in dread of it. Dic sprang from his +chair, delighted with the proposition. The thought of possessing Rita +to-morrow carried with it a flood of rapturous emotions. + +"How can we bring her?" he asked. "We can't kidnap her from her mother." + +"Perhaps Rita may be induced to kidnap herself," remarked Billy. "If we +furnish the plan, do you believe Rita will furnish the girl? Will she +come with us?" You see Billy, as well as Dic, was eloping with this +young lady. + +"Yes, she will come when I ask her," returned Dic, with confidence. + +After staring at the young man during a full minute, Billy said: "I am +afraid all my labor upon you has been wasted. If you are so great a fool +as not--do you mean to say you have never asked her to go with you--run +away--elope?" + +"I have never asked her to elope," returned Dic, with an expression of +doubt in his face. Billy's words had aroused him to a knowledge of the +fact that he was not at all the man for this situation. + +"You understand it is this way," continued Dic, in explanation of his +singular neglect. "Rita does not see her mother with our eyes. She +believes her to be a perfect woman. She believes every one is good; but +her mother has, for so many years, sounded the clarion of her own +virtues, that Rita takes the old woman at her own valuation, and holds +her to be a saint in virtue, and a feminine Solomon in wisdom. Rita +believes her mother the acme of intelligent, protecting kindness, and +looks upon her cruelty as the result of parental love, meant entirely +for the daughter's own good. I have not wanted to pain my future wife by +causing a break with her mother. Should Rita run off with me, there +would be no forgiveness for her in the breast of Justice." + +"The girl, doubtless, could live happily without it," answered Billy. + +"Not entirely happy," returned Dic. "She would grieve. You don't know +what a tender heart it is, Billy Little. There is not another like it in +all the world. Had it not been for that consideration, I would have been +selfish enough to bring her home with me when she offered to come, and +would--" + +"Mighty Moses!" cried Billy, springing to his feet. "She offered to go +with you?" + +"Yes," replied Dic; "she said when last I saw her, 'You should have +taken me long ago.'" + +"And--and you"--Billy paused for breath and danced excitedly about the +room--"and you did not--you--you, oh--Maxwelton's braes--and you--Ah, +well, there is nothing to be gained by talking to you upon that subject. +What _do_ you think of the administration? Jackson is a hickory +blockhead, eh? Congress a stupendous aggregation of asses. Yes, +everybody is an ass, of course; but there is one who is monumental. +Monumental, I say. Monu--ah, well--Maxwelton's braes are +bonny--um--um--um--um--damn!" And Billy sat down disgusted, turning his +face from Dic. + +After a long pause Dic spoke: "I believe you are right, Billy Little. I +should have brought her." + +"Believe--" cried the angry little friend. "Don't you know it? The _pons +asinorum_ is a mere hypothesis compared to the demonstration in this +case." + +"But she was not of age, and could not marry without her parents' +consent," said Dic. "Had I brought her home, we could have found no one +to perform the ceremony." + +"I would have done it quickly enough; I am a justice of the peace. I +could have done it as well as forty preachers. I should have been fined +for transgressing the law in marrying you without a license, but I would +have done it, and it would have been as legal as if it had taken place +in a cathedral. We could have paid the fine between us." + +"Well, what's to be done?" asked Dic, after a long, awkward pause. "It's +not too late." + +"Yes, it's too late," answered Billy. "I wash my hands of the whole +affair. When a man can get a girl like Rita, and throws away his chance, +he's beyond hope. I supposed you had bought her for twenty-six hundred +dollars--you will never see a penny of it again--and a bargain at the +price. She is worth twenty-six hundred million; but if you could not buy +her, you should have borrowed, stolen, kidnapped--anything to get her. +Now what do you think of yourself?" + +"Not much, Billy Little, not much," answered Dic, regretfully. "But you +should have said all this to me long ago. Advice after the fact is like +meat after a feast--distasteful." + +"Ah, you are growing quite epigrammatic," said Billy, snappishly; "but +there is some truth in your contention. We will begin again. When we see +Rita, we will formulate a plan and try to thwart Justice." + +"What plan have you in mind?" asked Dic, eager to discuss the subject. + +"I have none," Billy replied. "Rita will perhaps furnish both the plan +and the girl." + +Dic did not relish the suggestion that Rita would be willing to take so +active a part in the transaction, and said:-- + +"I fear you do not know Rita. She is not bold enough to do what you +hope. If she will come with us, it will be all I can expect. We must do +the planning." + +"You say she offered to come with you?" asked Billy. + +"Y-e-s," responded Dic, hesitatingly; "but she is the most timid of +girls, and we shall need to be very persuasive if--" + +Billy laughed and interrupted him: "All theory, Dic; all theory and +wrong. 'Deed, if I knew you were such a fool! The gentlest and most +guileless of women are the bravest and boldest under the stress of a +great motive. The woman who is capable of great love is sure also to +have the capacity for great courage. I know Rita better than you +suppose, and, mark my words, she will furnish both the plan and the +girl; and if you grow supercilious, egad! I'll take her myself." + +"I'll not grow supercilious. She is perfect, and anything she'll do will +be all right. I can't believe she is really to be mine. It seems more +like a castle in the air than a real fact." + +"It is not a fact yet," returned Billy, croakingly; "and if this trip +doesn't make it a fact, I venture to prophesy you will have an +untenanted aerial structure on your hands before long." + +"You don't believe anything of the sort, Billy Little," said Dic. "I +can't lose her. It couldn't happen. It couldn't." + +"We'll see. There's the stage horn. Let us hurry out and get an inside +seat. The sky looks overcast, and I shouldn't like to have this coat +rained upon. There's a fine piece of cloth, Dic. Feel it." Dic complied. +"Soft as silk, isn't it?" continued Billy. "They don't make such cloth +in these days of flimsy woolsey. Got it thirty years ago from the famous +Schwitzer on Cork Street. Tailor shop there for ages. Small shop--dingy +little hole, but that man Schwitzer was an artist. Made garments for all +the beaux. Brummel used to draw his own patterns in that shop--in that +very shop, Dic. Think of wearing a coat made by Brummel's tailor. +Remarkable man that, Brummel--George Bryan Brummel. Good head, full of +good brains. Son of a confectioner; friend of a prince. Upon one +occasion the Prince of Wales wept because Brummel made sport of his +coat. Yes, egad! blubbered. I used to know him well. Knew the 'First +Gentleman' of Europe, too, the Prince of Wales. Won a thousand and +eleven pounds from Brummel one night at whist. He paid the eleven and +still owes the thousand. Had a letter from him less than a year ago, +saying he hoped to pay me some day; but bless your soul, Dic, he'll +never be able to pay a farthing. He's in France now, because he owes +nearly every one in England. Fine gentleman, though, fine gentleman, +every inch of him. Well, this coat was made by his tailor. You don't +blame me for taking good care of it, do you?" + +"Indeed not," answered Dic, amused, though in sympathy with Beau +Brummel's friend. + +"I have two vests in my trunk by the same artist," continued Billy. "I +don't wear them now. They won't button over my front. I'll show them to +you some day." + +At this point in the conversation our friends stepped into the stage +coach. Others being present, Billy was silent as an owl at noonday. With +one or two sympathetic listeners Billy was a magpie; with many, he was a +stork--he loved companionship, but hated company. + +Arriving at Indianapolis, our worthy kidnappers sought the house of +unsuspecting Justice, and were received with a frigid dignity becoming +that stern goddess. Dic, wishing to surprise Rita, had not informed her +of his intended visit. After waiting a few minutes he asked, "Where is +Rita?" + +"She is sick," responded Mrs. Bays. "She has not been out of her bed for +three days. We have had two doctors with her. She took seven different +kinds of medicine all yesterday, and to-day she has been very bad." + +"No wonder," remarked Billy; "it's a miracle she isn't dead. Seven +different kinds! It's enough to have killed a horse. Fortunately she is +young and very strong." + +"Well, I'm sure she would have died without them," answered Mrs. Bays. + +"You believe six different kinds would not have saved her, eh?" asked +Billy. + +"Something saved her. It must have been the medicine," replied Mrs. +Bays, partly unconscious of Billy's irony. She was one of the many +millions who always accept the current humbug in whatever form he comes. +Let us not, however, speak lightly of the humble humbug. Have you ever +considered how empty this world would be without his cheering presence? +You notice I give the noun "humbug" the masculine gender. The feminine +members of our race have faults, but great, monumental, world-pervading +humbugs are masculine, one and all, from the old-time witch doctor and +Druid priest down to the--but Mrs. Bays was speaking:-- + +"The doctors worked with her for four hours last night, and when they +left she was almost dead." + +"Almost?" interrupted Billy. "Fortunate girl!" + +"I hope I may see her," asked Dic, timidly. + +"No, you can't," replied Mrs. Bays with firmness. "She's in bed, and I +_hardly_ think it would be the proper thing." + +"Dic!" called a weak little voice from the box stairway leading from the +room above. "Dic!" And that young man sprang to the stairway door with +evident intent to mount. Mrs. Bays hurried after him, crying:-- + +"You shall not go up there. She's in bed, I tell you. You can't see +her." + +Billy rose to his feet and stood behind her. When Dic stopped, at the +command of Mrs. Bays, Billy made an impatient gesture and pointed to the +room above, emphasizing the movement with a look that plainly said, "Go +on, you fool," and Dic went. + +Mrs. Bays turned quickly upon Billy, but his pale countenance was as +expressionless as usual, and he was examining his finger tips with such +care one might have supposed them to be rare natural curiosities. + +"Ah, Dic," cried the same little voice from the bed, when that young man +entered the room, and two white arms, from which the sleeves had fallen +back, were held out to him as the pearly gates might open to a wandering +soul. + +Dic knelt by the bedside, and the white arms entwined themselves about +his neck. He spoke to her rapturously, and placed his cool cheek +against her feverish face. Then the room grew dark to the girl, her eyes +closed, and she fainted. + +Dic thought she was dead, and in an agony of alarm placed his ear to her +heart, hoping to hear its beating. No human motive could have been purer +than Dic's. Of that fact I know you are sure, else I have written of him +in vain; but when Mrs. Bays entered the room and saw him, she was +pleased to cry out:-- + +"Help! help! he has insulted my daughter." + +Billy mounted the stairway in three jumps, a feat he had not performed +in twenty years, and when he entered the room Mrs. Bays pointed +majestically to the man kneeling by Rita's bed. + +"Take that man from my house, Mr. Little," cried Mrs. Bays in a +sepulchral, judicial tone of voice. "He broke into her room and insulted +my sick daughter when she was unconscious." + +Dic remained upon his knees by the bedside, and did not fully grasp the +meaning of his accuser's words. Billy stepped to Rita's side, and taking +her unresisting hand hastily sought her pulse. Then he spoke gruffly to +Mrs. Bays, who had wrought herself into a spasm of injured virtue. + +"She has fainted," cried Billy. "Fetch cold water quickly, and a drop of +whiskey." + +Mrs. Bays hastened downstairs, and Dic followed her. + +"Get the whiskey," he cried. "I'll fetch the water," and a few seconds +thereafter Billy was dashing cold water in Rita's face. The great brown +eyes opened, and the half-conscious girl, thinking that Dic was still +leaning over her, lifted her arms and gave poor old Billy a moment in +paradise, by entwining them about his neck. He enjoyed the delicious +sensation for a brief instant, and said:-- + +"I'm Billy Little, Rita, not Dic." Then the eyes opened wider as +consciousness returned, and she said:-- + +"I thought Dic was here." + +"Yes--yes, Rita," said Dic, "I am here. I was by your side a moment +since. I came so suddenly upon you that you fainted; then Billy Little +took my place." + +"And you thought I was Dic," said Billy, laughingly. + +"I'm glad I did," answered the girl with a rare smile, again placing her +arms about his neck and drawing his face down to hers; "for I love you +also very, very dearly." Billy's heart sprang backward thirty years, and +thumped away astonishingly. At that moment Mrs. Bays returned with the +whiskey, and Billy prepared a mild toddy. + +"The doctor said she must not have whiskey while the fever lasts," +interposed Mrs. Bays. + +"We'll try it once," replied Billy, "and if it kills her, we'll not try +it again. Here, Rita, take a spoonful of this." + +Dic lifted her head, and Billy administered the deadly potion, while the +humbug lover stood by, confidently expecting dire results, but too much +subdued by the situation to interpose an objection. + +Soon Rita asked that two pillows be placed under her head, and, sitting +almost upright in bed, declared she felt better than for several days. + +Mrs. Bays knew that Dic's motive had been pure and spotless, but she had +no intention of relinquishing the advantage of her false position. She +had for months been seeking an excuse to turn Dic from her house, and +now that it had come, she would not lose it. Going to Rita's side, she +again took up her theme:-- + +"No wonder my poor sick daughter fainted when she was insulted. I can't +tell you, Mr. Little, what I saw when I entered this room." + +"Oh, mother," cried Rita, "you were wrong. You do not understand. When I +saw Dic, I held up my arms to him, and he came to me because I wanted +him." + +"_You_ don't know, my daughter, you don't know," interrupted Mrs. Bays. +"I would not have you know. But I will protect my daughter, my own flesh +and blood, against insult at the cost of my life, if need be. I have +devoted my life to her; I have toiled and suffered for her since I gave +her birth, and no man shall enter my house and insult her while I have +strength to protect her." She gathered force while she spoke, and talked +herself into believing what she knew was false, as you and I may easily +do in very important matters if we try. + +"My dear woman," said Billy, in surprise bordering on consternation, +"you don't mean you wish us to believe that you believe that Dic +insulted Rita?" + +"Yes, I saw him insult her. I saw it with my own eyes." + +"In what manner?" demanded Dic. + +He was beginning to grasp the meaning of her accusation, and was +breathing heavily from suppressed excitement. Before she could reply he +fully understood, and a wave of just anger swept over him. + +"Old woman, you know you lie!" he cried. "I revere the tips of Rita's +fingers, and no unholy thought of her has ever entered my mind. _I_ +insult her! You boast of your mother's love. You have no love for her of +any sort. You have given her nothing but hard, cold cruelty all her life +under the pretence--perhaps belief--that you were kind; but if your love +were the essence of mother love, it would be as nothing compared to my +man's love for the girl who will one day be my wife and bear my +children." + +The frightened old woman shrank from Dic and silently took a chair by +the window. Then Dic turned to the bed, saying:-- + +"Forgive me, Rita, forgive me. I was almost beside myself for a moment. +Tell me that you know I would not harm you." + +"Of course you would do me no harm," she replied sobbing. "You could +not. You would be harming yourself. But how could you speak so violently +to my mother? You were terrible, and I was frightened. How could you? +How could you?" + +"I was wild with anger--but I will explain to you some day when you are +my wife. I will not remain in this house. I must not remain, but I will +come to you when you are well. You will write me, and I will come. You +want me, don't you, Rita?" + +"As I want nothing else in all the world," she whispered, taking his +face between her hands. + +"And you still love me?" he asked. + +"Ah," was her only reply; but the monosyllable was eloquent. + +Dic at once left the house, but Billy Little remained. + +"I never in all my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Bays, rising from her chair. +Billy did not comprehend the exact meaning of her mystic words, but in a +general way supposed they referred to her recent experiences as unusual. + +"You were mistaken, Mrs. Bays," he said. "Dic could not offer insult to +your daughter. You were mistaken." + +"I guess I was," she replied; "I guess I was, but I never, I never in +all my life!" + +The old woman was terribly shaken up; but when Billy took his departure, +her faculties returned with more than pristine vigor, and poor, sick +Rita, as usual, fell a victim to her restored powers of invective. + +Mrs. Bays shed no tears. The salt in her nature was not held in +solution, but was a rock formation from which tears could not easily be +distilled. + +"I have nursed you through sickness," she said, turning upon Rita with +an indignant, injured air. "I have toiled for you, suffered for you, +prayed for you. I have done my duty by you if mother ever did duty by +child, and now I am insulted for your sake; but I bear it all with a +contrite spirit because you are my daughter, though God's just hand is +heavy upon me. There is one burden I will bear no longer. You must give +up that man--that brute, who just insulted me." + +"He did not insult you, mother." + +"He did, and nothing but God's protecting grace saved me from bodily +harm in my own house while protecting my daughter's honor." + +"But, mother," cried Rita, weeping, "you are wrong. If there was any +wrong, it was I who did it." + +"You don't know! Oh, that I should live to see what I did see, and +endure what I have endured this day for the sake of an ungrateful +daughter--oh, sharper than a serpent's tooth, as the good book says--to +be insulted--I never! I never!" + +Rita, of course, had been weeping during her mother's harangue; but when +the old woman took up her meaningless refrain, "I never! I never!" the +girl's sobs became almost convulsive. Mrs. Bays saw her advantage and +determined not to lose it. + +"Promise me," demanded this tender mother, rudely shaking the girl, +"promise me you will never speak to him again." + +Rita did not answer--she could not, and the demand was repeated. Still +Rita answered not. + +"If you don't promise me, I'll leave your bedside. I'll never speak your +name again." + +"Oh, mother," sobbed the girl, "I beg you not to ask that promise of me. +I can't give it. I can't. I can't." + +"Give me the promise this instant, or I'll disown you. Do you promise?" + +The old woman bent fiercely over her daughter and waited stonily for an +answer. Rita shrank from her, but could not resist the domineering old +creature, so she whispered:-- + +"Yes, mother, I promise," and the world seemed to be slipping away from +her forever. + + + + +THE DIMPLER + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE DIMPLER + + +Billy Little soon found Dic and greeted him with, "Well, we haven't got +her yet." + +"No, but when she recovers, we will have her. What an idiot I was to +allow that old woman to make me angry!" + +"You are right for once, Dic," was Billy's consoling reply. "She has +been waiting for an excuse to turn you from her doors, and you furnished +it. I suppose you can never enter the house again." + +"I don't want to enter it, unless by force to take Rita. Why didn't I +take her long ago? It serves no purpose to call myself a fool, but--" + +"Perhaps it's a satisfaction," interrupted Billy, "a satisfaction to +discover yourself at last. Self-knowledge is the summit of all wisdom." + +"Ah, Billy Little, don't torture me; I am suffering enough as it is." +Billy did not answer, but took Dic's hand and held it in his warm clasp +for a little time as they walked in silence along the street. + +The two disconsolate lovers who had come a-kidnapping remained over +night in Indianapolis, and after breakfast Billy suggested that they +discuss the situation in detail. + +"Have you thought of any plan whereby you may communicate with Rita?" he +asked. + +"No," answered Dic. + +"Do you know any of her girl friends?" + +"The very thing!" exclaimed Dic, joyous as possible under the +circumstances. "I'll see Miss Tousy, and she will help us, I'm sure." + +"Is she sentimentally inclined?" queried Billy. + +"I don't know." + +"Is her face round or oval?" + +"Oval," replied Dic, in some perplexity. + +"Long oval?" + +"Rather." + +"Good!" exclaimed Billy. "Does she talk much or little?" + +"Little, save at times." + +"And her voice?" + +"Low and soft." + +"Better and better," said Billy. "What does she read?" + +"She loves Shakespeare and Shelley." + +"Go to her at once," cried Billy, joyfully. "I'll stake my life she'll +help. Show me a long oval face, a soft voice speaking little, and a +lover of poetry, and I'll show you the right sort of heart. But we must +begin at once. Buy a new stock, Dic, and have your shoes polished. Get a +good pair of gloves, and, if you think you can handle it properly, a +stick. Fine feathers go farther in making fine birds than wise men +suppose. Too much wisdom often blinds a man to small truths that are +patent to a fool. I wish you were small enough to wear my coat." + +Dic congratulated himself upon his bulk, but he took Billy's advice +regarding the gloves and stock. Billy was a relic of the days of the +grand beaux, when garments, if they did not make the man, at least could +mar the gentleman, and held his faith in the omnipotence of dress, as a +heritage from his youth--that youth which was almost of another world. +Dic was one of the few men whose splendor of person did not require the +adornments of dress. All women looked upon his redolence of life and +strength with pleasure, and soon learned to respect his +straightforward, fearless honesty. Miss Tousy had noted Dic's qualities +on previous occasions, and valued him accordingly. She was also +interested in Rita, who was her protégée; and she was graciousness +itself to Dic that day as she asked him, + +"What good fortune brings you?" + +"It is bad fortune brings me, I am sorry to say," returned Dic. +"Yesterday was the unluckiest day of my life, and I have come to you for +help." + +Miss Tousy's kind heart responded, as Billy Little had predicted. + +"Then your ill luck is my good fortune. In what way can I help you? I +give you _carte blanche_; ask what you will." + +"I will not hold you to your offer until I tell you what I want. Then +you may refuse if you feel that--" + +"I'll not refuse," answered the kindly young lady. "Go on." + +"You know that Ri--, Miss Bays, is--has been for a long time--that is, +has promised to be--" + +"I know. But what has happened?" + +"It's a long story. I'll not tell you all. I--" + +"Yes, tell me all--that is, if you wish. I'm eager to hear all, even to +the minutest details. Don't mind if the story is long." And she settled +herself comfortably among the cushions to hear his sentimental +narrative. Dic very willingly told the whole story of yesterday's woes, +and Miss Tousy gave him her sympathy, as only a woman can give. It was +not spoken freely in words, merely in gestures and little ejaculatory +"ah's," "oh's," and "too bad's"; but it was soothing to Dic, and sweet +Miss Tousy gained a lifelong friend. + +"You see," said Dic, after he had finished his story, "I cannot +communicate with Rita. She is ill, and I shall be unable to hear from +her." + +"I'll keep you informed; indeed I will, gladly. Oh, that hard old woman! +There is no hallucination so dangerous to surrounding happiness as that +of the Pharisee. Mrs. Bays has in some manner convinced herself that her +hardness is goodness, and she actually imposes the conviction upon +others. Her wishes have come to bear the approval of her conscience. +Every day of my life I grow more thankful that I have a sweet, gentle +mother. But Mrs. Bays intends right, and that, perhaps, is a saving +grace." + +"I prefer a person who intends wrong and does right to one who intends +right and does wrong," replied Dic. "I know nothing so worthless and +contemptible as mistaken good intentions. But we should not criticise +Rita's mother." + +"No," returned Miss Tousy; "and I'll go to see Rita every day--twice a +day--and will write to you fully by every mail." + +"I intend to remain at the inn till she recovers. I couldn't wait for +the mail." + +"Very well, that is much better. I'll send you word to the inn after +each visit, or, if you wish, you may come to me evenings, and I'll tell +you all about her. Shall I see you to-night, and shall I carry any +message?" + +"Tell her I will remain till she is better, and--and then I--I +will--that will be all for the present." + + * * * * * + +Billy Little was for going home at noon, but Dic begged him to remain. +The day was very long for Dic, notwithstanding Billy's companionship, +and twice during the afternoon he induced his friend to exhibit the +Brummel coat at the street-crossing a short distance south of the house +wherein the girl of girls lay ill and grieving. After much persuasion, +Billy consented to accompany Dic on his visit that evening to Miss +Tousy. The Schwitzer coat was carefully brushed, the pale face was +closely shaved and delicately powdered, and the few remaining hairs were +made to do the duty of many in covering Billy's blushing baldness. + +"I wish I had one of my waistcoats here," said our little coxcomb. "I +would button it if I had to go into stays--egad! I would. I will show +you those waistcoats some day,--India silk--corn color, with a touch of +gold braid at the pockets, ivory buttons the size of a sovereign, with +gold centres, made by the artist who made the coat. The coat is all +right. Wouldn't be ashamed to wear it to a presentation. I will button +it over this waistcoat and it will not be noticed. How do you like this +stock--all right?" + +"I think it is." + +"I have a better one at home. Got it down by the bank. Smith, Dye and +Company, Limited, Haberdashers. I can recommend the place if--if you +ever go to London. Brummel's haberdasher--Brummel knew the best places. +Depend upon him for that. Where he dealt, there you would hear the tramp +of many feet. He made Schwitzer's fortune. Wonderful man, Brummel. +Wonderful man, and I like him if he does owe me a thousand pounds thirty +years past due. Egad! it has been so long since I carried a stick I have +almost lost the knack of the thing. A stick is a useful thing to a +gentleman. Gives him grace, furnishes occupation for his hands. Gloves +in one hand, stick in the other--no man need get his hands mixed. Got +this stick down on Washington Street an hour ago. How do I seem to +handle it?" He walked across the room, holding the stick in the most +approved fashion--of thirty years before. + +"It's fine, Billy Little, it's fine," answered Dic, sorry to see an +apparent weakness in his little friend, though loving him better for +the sake of it. The past had doubled back on Billy for a day, and he +felt a touch of his youth--of that olden time when the first dandy of +England was heir-apparent to the crown and blubbered over an ill-fitting +coat. If you will look at the people of those times through the lens of +that fact, you will see something interesting and amusing. + +After many glances toward the mirror, Billy announced that he was ready, +and marched upon Miss Tousy, exulting in the fact that there was not in +all the state another coat like the one he wore. Billy's vanity, to do +him justice, was not at all upon his own account. He wished to appear +well for Dic's sake, and ransacked his past life for points in etiquette +and manner once familiar, but now almost forgotten by him and by the +world. His quaint old resurrections were comical and apt to create +mirth, but beneath their oddities I believe a discerning person would +easily have recognized the gentleman. + +I shall not describe to you Billy's Regency bow when Dic presented him +to Miss Tousy; nor shall I bring into his conversation all the "My dear +madams," "Dear ladys," and "Beg pardons," scattered broadcast in his +effort to do credit to his protégé. But Miss Tousy liked Billy, while +she enjoyed his old-fashioned affectations; and in truth the man was in +all respects worthy of the coat. + +"Rita is very ill," Miss Tousy said. "Mrs. Bays says your conduct almost +killed her daughter. Two doctors are with her now." + +"Terrible, my dear madam, terrible," interrupted Billy, and Miss Tousy +continued:-- + +"I whispered to Rita that you would remain, and she murmured, 'I'm so +glad. Tell him mother forced me to promise that I would never see him +again, and that promise is killing me. I can't forget it even for a +moment. Ask him to forgive me, and ask him if it will be wrong for me +to break the promise when I get well. I cannot decide whether it would +be wrong for me to keep it or to break it. Both ways seem wicked to +me!'" + +"Wicked!" cried Billy springing from his chair excitedly, and walking +across the room, gloves in one hand, stick in the other, and Brummel +coat buttoned tightly across the questionable waistcoat, "my dear lady, +tell her it will be wicked--damnable--beg pardon, beg pardon; but I must +repeat, dear lady, it will be wicked and wrong--a damning wrong, if she +keeps the promise obtained by force--by force, lady, by duress. Tell her +I absolve her from the promise. I will go to Rome and get the Pope's +absolution. No! that will be worse than none for Rita; she is a Baptist. +Well, well, I'll hunt out the head Baptist,--the high chief of all +Baptists, if there is one,--and will get his absolution. But, my dear +Miss Tousy, she has faith in me. I have never led her wrong in my life, +and she knows it. Tell her I say the promise is not binding, before +either God or man, and you will help her." + +"And tell her she will not be able to keep the promise," interrupted +Dic. "I'll make it impossible. When she recovers, I'll kidnap her, if +need be." + +"I'll go at once and tell her," returned Miss Tousy. "She is in need of +those messages." + +Dic and Billy walked down to Bays's with Miss Tousy, and waited on the +corner till she emerged from the house, when they immediately joined +her. + +"I gave her the messages," said Miss Tousy, "and she became quieter at +once. 'Tell him I'll get well now,' she whispered. Then she smiled +faintly, and said, 'Wouldn't it be romantic to be kidnapped?' After that +she was silent; and within five minutes she slept, for the first time +since yesterday." + +Rita's illness proved to be typhoid fever, a frightful disease in those +days of bleeding and calomel. + +Billy returned home after a few days, but Dic remained to receive his +diurnal report from Miss Tousy. + +One evening during the fourth week of Rita's illness Dic received the +joyful tidings that the fever had subsided, and that she would recover. +He spent a great part of the night watching her windows from across the +street, as he had spent many a night before. + +On returning to the inn he found a letter from Sukey Yates. He had been +thinking that the fates had put aside their grudge against him, and that +his luck had turned. When he read the letter announcing that the poor +little dimpler was in dire tribulation, and asking him to return to her +at once and save her from disgrace, he still felt that the fates had +changed--but for the worse. He was sure Sukey might, with equal +propriety, make her appeal to several other young men--especially to Tom +Bays; but he was not strong enough in his conviction to relieve himself +of blame, or entirely to throw off a sense of responsibility. In truth, +he had suffered for weeks with an excruciating remorse; and the sin into +which he had been tempted had been resting like lead upon his +conscience. He remembered Billy's warning against Sukey's too seductive +charms; and although he had honestly tried to follow the advice, and had +clearly seen the danger, he had permitted himself to be lured into a +trap by a full set of dimples and a pair of moist, red lips. He was not +so craven as to say, even to himself, that Sukey was to blame; but deep +in his consciousness he knew that he had tried not to sin; and that +Sukey, with her allurements, half childish, half-womanly, and +all-enticing, had tempted him, and he had eaten. The news in her letter +entirely upset him. For a time he could not think coherently. He had +never loved Sukey, even for a moment. He could not help admiring her +physical beauty. She was a perfect specimen of her type, and her too +affectionate heart and joyous, never-to-be-ruffled good humor made her +a delightful companion, well fitted to arouse tenderness. Add virtue and +sound principle to Sukey's other attractions, and she would have made a +wife good enough for a king--too good, far too good. For the lack of +those qualities she was not to blame, since they spring from heredity or +environment. Sukey's parents were good, honest folk, but wholly unfitted +to bring up a daughter. Sukey at fourteen was quite mature, and gave +evidence of beauty so marked as to attract men twice her age, who "kept +company" with her, as the phrase went, sat with her till late in the +night, took her out to social gatherings, and--God help the girl, she +was not to blame. She did only as others did, as her parents permitted; +and her tender little heart, so prone to fondness, proved to be a curse +rather than the blessing it would have been if properly directed and +protected. Mentally, physically, and temperamentally she was very close +to nature, and nature, in the human species, needs curbing. + +The question of who should bear the blame did not enter into Dic's +perturbed cogitations. He took it all upon his own broad shoulders, and +did not seek to hide his sin under the cloak of that poor extenuation, +"she did tempt me." If Rita's love should turn to hatred (he thought it +would), he would marry Sukey and bear his burden through life; but if +Rita's love could withstand this shock, Sukey's troubles would go +unrighted by him. Those were the only conclusions he could reach. His +keen remorse was the result of his sin; and while he pitied Sukey, he +did not trust her. + +Next morning Dic saw Miss Tousy and took the stage for home. His first +visit was to Billy Little, whom he found distributing letters back of +the post-office boxes. + +"How is Rita?" asked Billy. + +"She's much better," returned Dic. "Miss Tousy tells me the fever has +left her, and the doctors say she will soon recover. I wanted to see her +before I left, but of course that could not be; and--and the truth is I +could not have looked her in the face." + +"Why?" Billy was busy throwing letters. + +"Because--because, Billy Little, I am at last convinced that I represent +the most perfect combination of knave and fool that ever threw heaven +away and walked open-eyed into hell." + +"Oh, I don't know," replied the postmaster, continuing to toss letters +into their respective boxes. "I ... don't know. The world has seen some +rare (Mrs. Sarah Cummins) combinations of that sort." After a long pause +he continued: "I ... I don't believe (Peter Davidson) I don't +believe ... there is much knave in you. Fool, perhaps (Atkinson, David. He +doesn't live here), in plenty--." Another pause, while three or four +letters were distributed. "Suppose you say that the formula--the +chemical formula--of your composition would stand (Peter Smith) F_{9} +K_{2}. Of course, at times, you are all M, which stands for man, but +(Jane Anderson, Jane Anderson. Jo John's wife, I suppose)--" + +"You will not jest, Billy Little, when you have heard all." + +"I am not ... jesting now. Go back ... into my apartments. I'll lock the +door (Samuel Richardson. Great writer) and come back to you (Leander +Cross. Couldn't read a signboard. What use writing letters to him?) when +I have handed (Mrs. Margarita Bays. They don't know she has moved to +Indianapolis, damn her)--when I have handed out the mail." + +Dic went back to the bedroom, and Billy opened the delivery window. The +little crowd scrambled for their letters as if they feared a delay of a +moment or two would fade the ink, and when the mail had been distributed +the calm postmaster went back to hear Dic's troubles. At no time in +that young man's life had his troubles been so heavy. He feared Billy +Little's scorn and biting sarcasm, though he well knew that in the end +he would receive sympathy and good advice. The relation between Dic and +Billy was not only that of intimate friendship; it was almost like that +between father and son. Billy felt that it was not only his privilege, +but his duty, to be severe with the young man when necessity demanded. +When Dic was a boy he lost his father, and Billy Little had stood as +substitute for, lo, these many years. + +When Billy entered the room, Dic was lost amid the flood of innumerable +emotions, chief among which were the fear that he had lost Rita and the +dread of her contempt. + +Billy went to the fireplace, poked the fire, lighted his pipe, and +leaned against the mantel-shelf. + +"Well, what's the trouble now?" asked Brummel's friend. + +"Read this," answered Dic, handing him Sukey's letter. + +Billy went to the window, rested his elbows upon the piano, put on his +"other glasses," and read aloud:-- + + "'DEAR DIC: I'm in so much trouble.'" ("Maxwelton's braes," + exclaimed Billy. The phrase at such a time was almost an oath.) + "'Please come to me at once.'" (Billy turned his face toward Dic + and gazed at him for thirty long seconds.) "'Come at once. Oh, + please come to me, Dic. I will kill myself if you don't. I cannot + sleep nor eat. I am in such agony I wish I were dead; but I trust + you, and I am sure you will save me. I know you will. If you could + know how wretched and unhappy I am, if you could see me tossing all + night in bed, and crying and praying, you certainly would pity me. + Oh, God, I will go crazy. I know I will. Come to me, Dic, and save + me. I have never said that I loved you--you have never asked + me--but you know it more surely than words can tell.' + + "'SUKEY.'" + + +When Billy had finished reading the letter he spoke two words, as if to +himself,--"Poor Rita." His first thought was of her. Her pain was his +pain; her joy was his joy; her agony was his torture. Then he seated +himself on the stool and gazed across the piano out the window. After a +little time his fingers began to wander over the keys. Soon the +wandering fingers began to strike chords, and the random chords grew +into soft, weird improvisations; then came a few chords from the +beloved, melodious "Messiah"; but as usual "Annie Laurie" soon claimed +her own, and Billy was lost, for the time, to Dic and to the world. +Meanwhile Dic sat by the fireplace awaiting his friend's pleasure, and +to say that he suffered, but poorly tells his condition. + +"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked Billy, suddenly turning +on the stool. Dic did not answer, and Billy continued: "Damned pretty +mess you've made. Proud of yourself, I suppose?" + +"No." + +"Lady-killer, eh?" + +"No." + +"Oh, perhaps it wasn't your fault, Adam? You are not to blame? She +tempted you?" + +"I only am to blame." + +"'Deed if I believe you have brains enough to know who is to blame." + +"Yes, I have that much, but no more. Oh, Billy Little, don't--don't." +Billy turned upon the piano-stool, and again began to play. + +Dic had known that Billy would be angry, but he was not prepared for +this avalanche of wrath. Billy had grown desperately fond of Rita. No +one could know better than he the utter folly and hopelessness of his +passion; but the realization of folly and a sense of hopelessness do not +shut folly out of the heart. If they did, there would be less suffering +in the world. Billy's love was a strange combination of that which might +be felt by a lover and a father. He had not hoped or desired ever to +possess the girl, and his love for Dic had made it not only easy, but +joyous to surrender her to him. Especially was he happy over the union +because it would insure her happiness. His love was so unselfish that he +was willing to give up not only the girl, but himself, his blood, his +life, for her sweet sake. With all his love for Dic, that young man was +chiefly important as a means to Rita's happiness, and now he had become +worse than useless because he was a source of wretchedness to her. You +may understand, then, the reason for Billy's extreme anger against this +young man, who since childhood had been his friend, almost as dear as if +he were his son. + +After rambling over the keys for two or three minutes, he turned +savagely upon Dic, saying:-- + +"I wish you would tell me why you come to me for advice. You don't take +it." + +"Yes, I do, Billy Little. I value your advice above every one else's." + +"Stuff and nonsense. I warned you against that girl--the dimpler: much +you heeded me. Do you think I'm a free advice factory? Get out of here, +get out of here, I say, and let me never see your face--" + +"Oh, Billy Little, don't, don't," cried Dic. "You can't forsake me after +all these years you have helped me. You can't do it, Billy Little!" + +"Get out of here, I say, and don't come back--" ("Ah, Billy Little, I +beg--") "till to-morrow morning. Come to-morrow, and I will try to tell +you what to do." Dic rushed upon the terrible little fellow, clasped +his small form with a pair of great strong arms, and ran from the room. +Billy sat for a moment gazing at the door through which Dic had passed; +then he arranged his stock, and turned to his piano for consolation and +inspiration. + +Billy knew that he knew Dic, and believed he knew Sukey. He knew, among +other facts concerning Dic, that he was not a libertine; that he was +pure in mind and purpose; that he loved and revered Rita Bays; and that +he did not care a pin for Sukey's manifold charms of flesh and blood. He +believed that Sukey was infatuated with Dic, and that her fondness grew +partly out of the fact that he did not fall before her smiles. He also +believed that her regard for Dic did not preclude, in her comprehensive +little heart, great tenderness for other men. Sukey had, upon one +occasion, been engaged to marry three separate and distinct swains of +the neighborhood, and a triangular fight among the three suitors had +aroused in the breast of her girl friends a feeling of envy that was +delicious to the dimpling little _casus belli_. After Dic's departure, +Billy sat throughout most of the night gazing into the fire, smoking his +pipe, and turning the situation over in his mind. When Dic arrived next +morning he was seated on the counter ready with his advice. The young +man took a seat beside him. + +"Now tell me all about it," said Billy. "I think I know, but tell me the +exact truth. Don't spare the dimpler, and don't spare yourself." + +Thereupon Dic unfolded his story with a naked truthfulness that made him +blush. + +"I thought as much," remarked Billy, when the story was finished. "Miss +Potiphar from Egypt has brought you and herself into trouble." + +"No, no, Billy Little, you are wrong. I cannot escape blame by placing +the fault upon her. I should despise myself if I did; but I would be a +blind fool not to see that--that--oh, I cannot explain. You know there +are Jap Bertram, Dick Olders, Tom Printz, and, above all, Tom Bays, who +are her close friends and constant visitors and--and, you know--you +understand my doubts. I do not trust her. I may be wrong, but I suppose +I should wish to err on the right side. It is better that I should err +in trusting her than to be unjust in doubting her. The first question +is: Shall I marry Sukey if Rita will forgive me? The second, Shall I +marry her if Rita refuses to forgive me? Am I bound by honor and duty to +sacrifice my happiness for the sake of the girl whom I do not, but +perhaps should, trust?" + +"I don't see that your happiness has anything to do with the case," +returned Billy. "If that alone were to be considered, I should say marry +Sukey regardless of your doubts. You deserve the penalty; but Rita has +done no sin, and you have no right to punish her to pay your debts. You +are bound by every tie of honor to marry her, and you shall do so. The +dimpler is trying to take you from Rita, and if you are not careful your +fool conscience will help her to do it." + +"If Rita will forgive me," said Dic. + +"She'll forgive you sooner or later," answered Billy. "Her love and +forgiveness are benedictions she cannot withhold nor you escape." + +I doubt if Billy Little would have been so eager in forwarding this +marriage had not Williams been frowning in the background. Billy, as you +know, had a heart of his own--a bachelor heart; but he hated Williams, +and was intensely jealous of him. So, taking the situation at its worst, +Dic was the lesser of two evils. But, as I have already told you many +times, he passionately loved Dic for his own sake, and his unselfish +regard for the priceless girl made the young man doubly valuable as a +means to her happiness. If Rita wanted a lover, she must have him. If +she wanted the moon, she ought to have it--should have it, if Billy +Little could get it for her. So felt Billy, whose advice brought joy to +Dic. It also brought to him the necessity of a painful interview with +Sukey. He dreaded the interview, and told Billy he thought he would +write to Sukey instead. + +"You can pay at least a small part of the penalty you owe by seeing the +girl and bearing the pain of an interview," replied Billy. "But if you +are too cowardly to visit her, write. I suppose that's what I should do +if I were in your place. But I'd be a poor example for a manly man to +follow." + +"I'll see her," replied Dic. "Poor Sukey! I pity her." + +"It isn't safe to pity a girl like Sukey. Pity has a dangerous kinsman," +observed Billy. + + * * * * * + +On his way home, Dic called upon Sukey, and, finding her out, left word +he would return that evening. When she received the message her heart +throbbed with hope, and the dimples twinkled joyously for the first time +in many days. She used all the simple arts at her command to adorn +herself for his reception, and toiled to assist the dimples in the great +part they would soon be called upon to play in the drama of her life. +She knew that Dic did not trust her, and from that knowledge grew her +own doubts as to the course he would take. Hope and fear warmed and +chilled her heart by turns; but her efforts to display her charms were +truly successful; and faith, born of man's admiration, led her to +believe she would that night win the greatest prize the world had to +offer, and would save herself from ruin and disgrace. + +Soon after supper the family were relegated to the kitchen, and Sukey, +with palpitating heart, waited in the front room for Dic. + +Among our simple rural folk a décolleté gown was considered immodest. In +order to be correct the collar must cover the throat, as nearly to the +chin and ears as possible. Sukey's dresses were built upon this plan, +much to her regret; for her throat and bosom were as white and +plump--but never mind the description. They suited Sukey, and so far as +I have ever heard they were entirely satisfactory to those so fortunate +as to behold them. Therefore, when she was alone, knowing well the +inutility of the blushing rose unseen, she opened the dress collar and +tucked it under at each side, displaying her rounded white throat, with +its palpitating little spot--almost another dimple--where it merged into +the bosom. There was no immodest exposure, but when Mrs. Yates returned +to the room for her glasses, the collar was quickly readjusted and +remained in place till Dic's step was heard. Now, ready, and all +together: dimples, lips, teeth, eyes, and throat, do your duty! So much +depended upon Dic that she wanted to fall upon her knees when he +entered. It grieves me to write thus of our poor, simple little girl, +whose faults were thrust upon her, and I wish I might have told this +story with reference only to her dimples and her sweetness; but Dic +shall not be hopelessly condemned for his sin, if I can prevent it, save +by those who are entitled to cast stones, and to prevent such +condemnation I must tell you the truth about Sukey. The fact that he +would not claim the extenuation of temptation is at least some reason +why he should have it. + +I shall not tell you the details of this interview. Soon after Dic's +arrival our little Hebe was in tears, and he, moved by her suffering, +could not bring himself to tell her his determination. Truly, Billy was +right. It was dangerous to pity such a girl. Dic neither consented nor +refused to marry her, but weakly evaded the subject, and gave her the +impression that he would comply with her wishes. He did not intend to +create that impression; but in her ardent desire she construed his +silence to suit herself, and, becoming radiant with joy, was prettier +and more enticing than she had ever before appeared. Therefore, as every +man will agree, Dic's task became difficult in proportion, and painful +beyond his most gloomy anticipations. His weakness grew out of a great +virtue--the wholesome dread of inflicting pain. + +During the evening Sukey offered Dic a cup of cider, and her heart beat +violently while he drank. + +"It has a peculiar taste," he remarked. + +"There are crab apples in it," the girl answered. + +There was something more than crab apples in the cider; there was a love +powder, and two hours after Dic's arrival at home he became ill. Dr. +Kennedy ascribed the illness to poisoning, and for a time it looked as +if Sukey's love powder would solve several problems; but Dic recovered, +and the problems were still unsolved. + +From the day Dic received Sukey's unwelcome letter, he knew it was his +duty to inform Rita of his trouble. He was sure she would soon learn the +interesting truth from disinterested friends, should the secret become +public property on Blue, and he wanted at least the benefit of an honest +confession. That selfishness, however, was but a small part of his +motive. He sincerely felt that it was Rita's privilege to know all about +the affair, and his duty to tell her. He had no desire to conceal his +sin; he would not take her love under a false pretence. He almost felt +that confession would purge him of his sin, and looked forward with a +certain pleasure to the pain he would inflict upon himself in telling +her. In his desire for self-castigation he lost sight of the pain he +would inflict upon her. He knew she would be pained by the disclosure, +but he feared more its probable effect upon her love for him, and looked +for indignant contempt and scorn from her, rather than for the +manifestation of great pain. He resolved to write to Rita at once and +make a clean breast of it; but Billy advised him to wait till she was +entirely well. + +Dic, quite willing to postpone his confession, wrote several letters, +which kind Miss Tousy delivered; but he did not speak of Sukey Yates +until Rita's letters informed him that she was growing strong. Then he +wrote to her and told her in as few words as possible the miserable +story of his infidelity. He did not blame Sukey, nor excuse himself. He +simply stated the fact and said: "I hardly dare hope for your +forgiveness. It seems that you must despise me as I despise myself. It +is needless for me to tell you of my love for you, which has not wavered +during so many years that I have lost their count. But now that I +deserve your scorn; now that I am in dread of losing you who have so +long been more than all else to me, you are dearer than ever before. +Write to me, I beg, and tell me that you do not despise me. Ah, Rita, +compared to you, there is no beauty, no purity, no tenderness in the +world. There seems to be but one woman--you, and I have thrown away your +love as if I were a blind fool who did not know its value. Write to me, +I beg, and tell me that I am forgiven." + +But she did not write to him. In place of a letter he received a small +package containing the ivory box and the unfortunate band of gold that +had brought trouble to Billy Little long years before. + + + + +WISE MISS TOUSY + +CHAPTER XIV + +WISE MISS TOUSY + + +Upon first reading Dic's letter, Rita was stunned by its contents; but +within a day or two her thoughts and emotions began to arrange +themselves, and out of order came conclusion. The first conclusion was a +surprise to her: she did not love Dic as she had supposed. A scornful +indifference seemed to occupy the place in her heart that for years had +been Dic's. With that indifference came a sense of change. Dic was not +the Dic she had known and loved. He was another person; and to this +feeling of strangeness was added one of scorn. This new Dic was a man +unworthy of any pure girl's love; and although her composite emotion was +streaked with excruciating pain, as a whole it was decidedly against +him, and she felt that she wished never to see him again. She began a +letter to him, but did not care to finish it, and returned the ring +without comment, that being the only answer he deserved. Pages of scorn +could not have brought to Dic a keener realization of the certainty and +enormity of his loss. He returned the ring to Billy Little. + +"I thank you for it, Billy, though it has brought grief to me as it did +to you. I do not blame the ring; my loss is my own fault; but it is +strange that the history of the ring should repeat itself. It almost +makes one superstitious." + +"Egad! no one else shall suffer by it," said Billy, opening the huge +iron stove and throwing the ring into the fire. + +Dic's loss was so heavy that it mollified Billy's anger, which for +several days had been keen against his young friend. Billy's own pain +and grief also had a softening effect upon his anger; for with Dic out +of the way, Rita Bays, he thought, would soon become Mrs. Roger +Williams, and that thought was torture to the bachelor heart. + +Rita, bearing the name of his first and only sweetheart, had entered the +heart of this man's second youth; and in the person of Dic he was wooing +her and fighting the good fight of love against heavy odds. Dic, upon +receiving the ring, was ready to surrender; but Billy well knew that +many a battle had been won after defeat, and was determined not to throw +down his arms. + +Thinking over his situation, Dic became convinced that since Rita was +lost to him, he was in honor bound to marry Sukey Yates. Life would be a +desert waste, but there was no one to thank for the future Sahara but +himself, and the self-inflicted sand and thirst must be endured. The +thought of marrying Sukey Yates at first caused him almost to hate her; +but after he had pondered the subject three or four days, familiarity +bred contempt of its terrors. Once having accepted the unalterable, he +was at least rid of the pain of suspense. He tried to make himself +believe that his pain was not so keen as he had expected it would be; +and by shutting out of his mind all thoughts of Rita, he partially +succeeded. + +Sunday afternoon Dic saw Sukey at church and rode home with her, resting +that evening upon her ciphering log. He had determined to tell her that +he would marry her; but despite his desire to end the suspense, he could +not bring himself to speak the words. He allowed her to believe, by +inference, what she chose, and she, though still in great doubt, felt +that the important question was almost settled in her favor. + +During the interim of four or five days Billy Little secretly called +upon Miss Tousy, and incidentally dropped in to see Rita. + +After discussing matters of health and weather, Billy said: "Rita, you +must not be too hard on Dic. He was not to blame. Sukey is a veritable +little Eve, and--" + +"Billy Little, I am sorry to hear you place the blame on Sukey. I +suppose Dic tells you she was to blame." + +"By Jove! I've made a nice mess of it," muttered Billy. "No, Dic blames +himself entirely, but I know whereof I speak. That girl is in love with +him, and has set this trap to steal him from you and get him for +herself. She has been trying for a long time to entrap him, and you are +helping her. Dic is a true, pure man, who has been enticed into error +and suffers for it. You had better die unmarried than to lose him." + +"I hope to die unmarried, and I pray that I may die soon," returned Rita +with a deep, sad sigh. + +"No, you'll not die unmarried. You will marry Williams," said Billy, +looking earnestly into her eyes. + +"I shall not." + +"If you wish to throw Dic over and marry Williams, you should openly +avow it, and not seize this misfortune of Dic's as an excuse." + +"Oh, Billy Little, you don't think me capable of that, do you?" answered +Rita, reproachfully. + +"Do you give me your word you will not marry Williams?" asked Billy, +eagerly. + +"Yes, I give you my word I will not marry him, if--if I can help it," +she answered, and poor Billy collapsed. He took his handkerchief from +his pocket to dry the perspiration on his face, although the room was +cold, and Rita drew forth her handkerchief to dry her tears. + +"Dic loves you, Rita. He is one man out of ten thousand. He is honest, +true, and pure-minded. He has sinned, I know; but he has repented. One +sin doesn't make a sinner, and repentance is the market price of mercy. +I know a great deal of this world, my girl, and of its men and women, +and I tell you Dic is as fine a character as I know. I don't know a man +that is his equal. Don't let this one fault condemn him and yourself to +wretchedness." + +"I shall not be wretched," she replied, the picture of woe, "for I +don't--don't care for him. I'm surprised, Billy Little, that I do not, +and I think less of myself. There must be something wrong about me. I +must be wicked when my--my love can turn so easily to indifference. But +I do not care for him. He is nothing to me any more. You may be sure I +speak the truth and--and although I am glad to have you here, I don't +want you to remain if you continue to speak of--of him." + +The situation certainly was confusing, and Billy, in a revery, resorted +to Maxwelton's braes as a brain clarifier. Soon wild thoughts came to +his mind, and wilder hopes arose in his bachelor heart. This girl, whom +he had loved for, lo, these many years, was now free of heart and hand. +Could it be possible there was hope for him? Pat with this strange +thought spoke Rita:-- + +"You say he is a splendid man, pure and true and honest; but you know, +Billy Little, that measured by the standard of your life, he is not. I +used to think he was like you, that you had made him like yourself, and +I did love him, Billy Little. I did love him. But there is no one like +you. You are now my only friend." Tears came to her eyes, and she leaned +toward Billy, gently taking his hand between her soft palms. Tumult +caused the poor bachelor heart to lose self-control, and out of its +fulness to speak:-- + +"You would not marry me?" he asked. The words were meant as a question, +but fortunately Rita understood them as a mere statement of a patent +fact, spoken jestingly, so she answered with a laugh:-- + +"No, of course not. I could not marry you, Billy Little. But I wish you +were young; then, do you know, I would make you propose to me. You +should not have been born so soon, Billy Little. But if I can't have you +for my husband, I'll have you for my second father, and _you_ shall not +desert me." + +Her jest quickly drove the wild hopes out of the bachelor heart, and +Billy trembled when he thought of what he had tried to say. He left the +house much agitated, and returned to see Miss Tousy. After a +consultation with that lady covering an hour, he went to the tavern and +took the stage for home. + +Next day, in the midst of Dic's struggles for peace, and at a time when +he had almost determined to marry Sukey Yates, a letter came from Miss +Tousy, asking him to go to see her. While waiting for the stage, Dic +exhibited Miss Tousy's letter, and Billy feigned surprise. + +Two or three days previous to the writing of Miss Tousy's letter, Rita +had told that sympathetic young lady the story of the trouble with Dic. +The confidence was given one afternoon in Miss Tousy's cosey little +parlor. + +"When is your friend Mr. Bright coming to see you?" asked Miss Tousy. +"You are welcome to meet him here if you cannot receive him at home." + +"He will not come again at all," answered Rita, closely scanning her +hands folded on her lap. + +"Why?" asked her friend, in much concern, "has your mother at last +forced you to give him up?" + +"No, mother knows nothing of it yet--nothing at all. I simply sent his +ring back and don't want to--to see him again. Never." + +"My dear girl, you are crazy," exclaimed Miss Tousy. "You don't know +what you are doing--unless you have grown fond of Mr. Williams; but I +can't believe that is true. No girl would think twice of him when so +splendid a fellow as Dic--Mr. Bright--was--" + +"No, indeed," interrupted Rita, "that can never be true. I would never +care for any man as I cared for--for him. But I care for him no longer. +It is all over between--between--it is all over." + +From the hard expression of the girl's face one might easily have +supposed she was speaking the truth; there was no trace of emotion. + +"But, Rita! This will never do!" insisted Miss Tousy. "You don't know +yourself. You are taking a step that will wreck your happiness. You +should also consider him." + +"You don't know what he has done," answered Rita, still looking down at +her folded hands. + +"I don't _care_ what he has done. You did not make yourself love him, +and you cannot throw off your love. You may for a time convince yourself +that you are indifferent, but you are simply lying to yourself, my dear +girl, and you had better lie to any one else--the consequences will be +less serious. Never deceive yourself, Rita. That is a deception you +can't maintain. You may perhaps deceive all the rest of the world so +long as you live--many a person has done it--but yourself--hopeless, +Rita, perfectly hopeless." + +"I'm not deceiving myself," answered the wilful girl. "You don't know +what he has done." + +"I don't _care_," retorted Miss Tousy warmly. "If he were my lover, I--I +tell you, Rita Bays, I'd forgive him. I'd keep him. He is one out of a +thousand--so big and handsome; so honest, strong, and true." + +"But he's not true; that's the trouble," answered Rita, angrily, +although there had been a soft, tell-tale radiance in her eyes when Miss +Tousy praised him. + +"Ah, he has been inveigled into smiling upon another girl," asked Miss +Tousy, laughing and taking Rita's hand. "That is the penalty you must +pay for having so splendid a lover. Of course other girls will want him. +I should like to have him myself--and, Rita, there are lots of girls +bold enough or weak enough to seek him outright. You mustn't see those +little things. Frequently the best use a woman can make of her eyes is +to shut them." + +In place of shutting her eyes, Rita began to weep, and Miss Tousy +continued:-- + +"This man loves you and no other, my sweet one. That's the great thing, +after all. No girl can steal his heart from you--of that you may be +sure." + +"But I say you don't know," sobbed Rita. "I will tell you." And she did +tell her, stumbling, sobbing, and blushing through the narrative of +Dic's unforgivable perfidy. + +Miss Tousy whistled in surprise. After a moment of revery she said: "She +is trying to steal him, Rita, and she is as bad as she can be. If you +will give me your promise that you will never tell, I'll tell you +something Sue Davidson told me." Rita promised. "Not long since your +brother Tom called on Sue and left his great-coat in the hall. Sue's +young sister got to rummaging in Tom's great-coat pockets, for candy, I +suppose, and found a letter from this same Sukey Yates to Tom. Sue told +me about the letter. It breathed the most passionate love, and implored +Tom to save her from the ruin he had wrought. So you see, Dic is not to +blame." She paused, expecting her listener to agree with her; but Rita +sighed and murmured:-- + +"He is not excusable because others have been wicked." + +"But I tell you I wouldn't let that little wretch steal him from me," +insisted Miss Tousy. "That's what she's trying to do, and you're +helping her. When she was here I saw plainly that she was infatuated +with him, and was bound to win him at any price--at any cost. She had no +eyes nor dimples for any one else when he was by; yet he did not notice +her--did not see her smiles and dimples. Don't tell me he cares for her. +He had eyes for no one but you. Haven't you seen how other girls act +toward him? Didn't you notice how Sue Davidson went at him every chance +she got?" + +"No," answered Rita, still studying her folded hands, and regardless of +her tear-stained face. + +"I think Sue is the prettiest girl in town, excepting you," continued +Miss Tousy, "and if she could not attract him, it would be hopeless for +any one else to try." + +"Nonsense," murmured Rita, referring to that part of Miss Tousy's remark +which applied to herself. + +"No, it isn't nonsense, Rita. You are the prettiest girl I ever saw--but +no matter. She is pretty enough for me to hate her. She is the sort of +pretty girl that all women hate and fear. She obtrudes her +prettiness--keeps her attractions always _en évidence_, as the French +say. She moistens her lips to make them tempting, and twitches the right +side of her face to work that dimple of hers. She is so attractive that +she is not usually driven to seek a man openly; but Dic--I mean Mr. +Bright--did not even see her smiles. Every one else did; and I will +wager anything you like she has written love-notes to him--real +love-notes. He would, of course, be too honorable to tell. He's not the +sort of man who would kiss and tell--he is the sort women trust with +their favors--but I'll wager I'm right about Sue Davidson." She was +right, though Dic's modesty had not permitted him to see Miss D.'s notes +in the light Miss Tousy saw them. + +"He is not the man," continued Miss Tousy, "to blame a girl for a fault +of that sort, even in his own mind, and he would not explain at a +woman's expense to save his life. With a man of his sort, the girl is to +blame nine times out of ten. I wouldn't give a fippenny bit for a man no +other girl wanted. There is a large class of women you don't know yet, +Rita. You are too young. The world has a batch of mawkish theories about +them, but there are also a few very cold facts kept in the dark,--lodge +secrets among the sex. Dic is modest, and modesty in an attractive man +is dangerous--the most dangerous thing in the world, Rita. Deliver me +from a shy, attractive man, unless he cares a great deal for me. Shyness +in a man is apt to make a girl bold." + +"It did not make me bold," said Rita, with a touch of fire. + +"Not in the least?" asked Miss Tousy, leaning over the girl's lap, +looking up into her face and laughing. "Now come, Rita, confess; you're +as modest as a girl has any good reason to be, but tell me, didn't +you--didn't you do your part? Now confess." + +"Well, I may have been a little bold, I admit, a very little--just +at--you know, just at one time. I _had_ to be a little--just a +little--you see--you know, outspoken, or--you know what I mean. He might +not have--oh, you understand how such things happen." + +The hands in the lap were growing very interesting during these remarks, +and the tear-stained cheeks were very hot and red. + +"Yes, yes, dear," said Miss Tousy, leaning forward and kissing the hot +cheeks, "yes, yes, sweet one. I know one just _has_ to help them a bit; +but that is not boldness, that is charity." + +"Since I think about it, perhaps I was," murmured Rita. "I know I have +often turned hot all over because of several things I did; but I cared +so much for him. I was so young and ignorant. That was over two years +ago. I cared so much for him and was all bewildered. Nothing seemed +real to me during several months of that time. Part of the time it +seemed I was in a nightmare, and again, it was like being in heaven. A +poor girl is not a responsible being at such times. She doesn't know +what she does nor what she wants; but it's all over now. I ... don't ... +care anything ... about ... him now. It's all over." Such a mournful +little voice you never heard, and such a mournful little face you never +saw. Still, it was all over. + +Miss Tousy softly kissed her and said: "Well, well, we'll straighten it +all out. There, don't cry, sweet one." But Rita did cry, and found +comfort in resting her head on Miss Tousy's sympathetic bosom. + +The letter Sue Davidson had found altered Rita's feeling toward Sukey; +but it left untouched Dic's sin against herself, and she insisted that +she did not care for him, and never, never would forgive. With all her +gentleness she had strong nerves, and her spirit, when aroused, was too +high to brook patiently the insult Dic had put upon her. Miss Tousy's +words had not moved her from her position. Dic was no longer Dic. He was +another person, and she could love no man but Dic. She had loved him all +her life, and she could love none other. With such poor sophistry did +she try to convince herself that she was indifferent. At times she +succeeded beyond her most sanguine hope, and tried to drive conviction +home by a song. But the song always changed to tears, the tears to +anger, anger to sophistry, and all in turn to a dull pain at the heart, +making her almost wish she were dead. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile the affairs of Fisher and Fox were becoming more and more +involved. Crops had failed, and collections could not be made. Williams, +under alleged imperative orders from Boston, was pressing for money +or security. Tom had "overdrawn" his account in Williams's office; and, +with the penitentiary staring him in the face, was clamoring for money +to make good the overdraft. At home he used the words "overdraft" and +"overdrawn" in confessing the situation. Williams, when speaking to Tom +of the shortage, had used the words "embezzlement" and "thief." + +[Illustration: "MISS TOUSY SOFTLY KISSED HER AND SAID, ... 'THERE, DON'T +CRY, SWEET ONE.'"] + +Rita's illness had prevented Williams's visits; but when she recovered, +he began calling, though he was ominously sullen in his courtship, and +his passion for the girl looked very much like a mania. + +One evening at supper table, Tom said: "Father, I must have five hundred +dollars. I have overdrawn my account with Williams, and I'll lose my +place if it is not paid. I _must_ have it. Can't you help me?" + +"What on earth have you been doing with the money?" asked Tom, Sr. "I +have paid your tailor bills and your other bills to a sufficient amount, +in all conscience, and what could you have done with the money you got +from Williams and your salary?" + +Tom tried to explain, and soon the Chief Justice joined in: "La, father, +there are so many temptations in town for young men, and our Tom is so +popular. Money goes fast, doesn't it, Tom? The boy can't tell what went +with it. Poor Tom! If your father was half a man, he'd get the money for +you; that's what he would. If your sister was not the most wicked, +selfish girl alive, she could settle all our troubles. Mr. Williams +would not press his brother-in-law or his wife's father. I have toiled +and suffered and worked for that girl all my life, and so has her +father, and so have you, Tom. We have all toiled and suffered and worked +for her, and now she's too ungrateful to help us. Oh, 'sharper than a +serpent's tooth,' as the Immortal Bard of Avon truly says." + +Rita began to cry and rose from her chair, intending to leave the room, +but her mother detained her. + +"Sit down!" she commanded. "At least you shall hear of the trouble you +bring upon us. I have been thinking of a plan, and maybe you can help us +carry it out if you want to do anything to help your father and brother. +As for myself, I don't care. I am always willing to suffer and endure. +'Blessed are they that suffer, for they shall inherit the kingdom of +heaven.'" + +Tom pricked up his ears, Tom, Sr., put down his knife and fork to +listen, and Rita again took her seat at table. + +"Billy Little has plenty of money," continued Mrs. Margarita, addressing +her daughter. "The old skinflint has refused to lend it to your father +or Tom, but perhaps he'll not refuse you if you ask him. I believe the +old fool is in love with you. What they all want with you I can't see, +but if you'll write to him--" + +"Oh, I can't, mother, I can't," cried Rita, in a flood of tears. + +I will not drag the reader through another scene of heart failure and +maternal raving. Rita, poor girl, at last surrendered, and, amid tears +of humiliation, wrote to Billy Little, telling of her father's distress, +her mother's commands, and her own grief because she was compelled to +apply to him. "You need not fear loss of your money, my friend," she +wrote, honestly believing that she told the truth. "You will soon be +repaid. Mr. Williams is demanding money from my father and Uncle Jim, +and I dislike, for many reasons well known to you, to be under +obligations to him. If you can, without inconvenience to yourself, lend +this money, it will help father greatly just at this time, and will +perhaps save me from a certain frightful importunity. The money will be +repaid to you after harvest, when collections become easier. If I did +not honestly believe so, even my mother's commands would not induce me +to write this letter." + +Rita fully believed the money would be paid; but Billy knew that if he +made the loan, he would be throwing his money away forever. + +After making good Dic's loss of twenty-six hundred dollars,--which sum, +you may remember, went to Bays,--Little had remaining in his strong-box +notes to the amount of two thousand dollars, which, together with his +small stock of goods and two or three hundred dollars in cash, +constituted the total sum of his worldly wealth. He had reached a point +in life where he plainly saw old age staring him in the face--an ugly +stare which few can return with equanimity. The small bundle of notes +was all that stood between him and want when that time should come "sans +everything." But Williams was staring Rita in the face, and if the +little hoard could save her, she was welcome to it. + +Billy's sleep the night after he received Rita's letter was meagre and +disturbed, but next morning he took his notes and his poor little +remainder of cash and went to Indianapolis. He discounted the notes, as +he had done in Dic's case, and with the proceeds he went to the store of +Fisher and Bays. Fisher was present when Billy entered the private +office and announced his readiness to supply the firm with twenty-three +hundred dollars on their note of hand. The money, of course, being +borrowed by the firm, went to the firm account, and was at once applied +by Fisher upon one of the many Williams notes. Therefore Tom's +"overdrafts" remained _in statu quo_; likewise the penitentiary. + +The payment of Billy Little's twenty-three hundred dollars upon the +Williams debt did not help matters in the least. The notes owed by the +firm of Fisher and Bays to the Williams house aggregated nearly fourteen +thousand dollars, and Billy's poor little all did not stem the tide of +importunity one day, although it left him penniless. The thought of his +poverty was of course painful to Billy, but he rode home that evening +without seeing Rita, happy and exultant in the mistaken belief that he +had helped to save her from the grasp of Williams. + +That same evening at supper Tom, Sr., told of Billy Little's loan, and +there was at once an outburst of wrath from mother and son because part +of the money had not been applied to Tom's "overdraft." + +"The pitiful sum of twenty-three hundred dollars!" cried Tom. "The old +skinflint might as well have kept his money for all the good it will do +us. Do you think that will keep Williams from suing us?" In Tom's +remarks Mrs. Bays concurred, saying that she "always knew he was a mean +old miser." + +Rita tried to speak in her friend's defence, but the others furiously +silenced her, so she broke down entirely, covered her face with her +hands, and wept bitterly. She went through the after-supper work amid +blinding tears, and when she had finished she sought her room. Without +undressing she lay down on the bed, sobbing till the morning light shone +in at her window. Before she had lost Dic her heart could fly from every +trouble and find sweet comfort in thoughts of him; but now there was no +refuge. She was alone in the world, save for Billy Little. She loved her +father, but she knew he was weak. She loved Tom, but she could not help +despising him. She loved her mother, but she feared her, and knew there +was no comfort or consolation for her in that hard heart. Billy had not +come to see her when he brought the money, and she feared she had +offended him by asking for it. + +Such was the situation when Dic received Miss Tousy's letter inviting +him to call upon her. + + * * * * * + +Miss Tousy greeted Dic kindly when he presented himself at her door, and +led him to the same cosey front parlor wherein Rita had imparted the +story of her woes and of Dic's faithlessness. She left her guest in the +parlor a moment or two, while she despatched a note to a friend in town. +When she returned she said:-- + +"I'm sorry to hear of the trouble between you and Rita, and am +determined it shall be made up at once." + +"I fear that is impossible, Miss Tousy," returned Dic, sadly. "She will +never forgive me. I should not were I in her place. I do not expect it +and am not worth it." + +"But she will forgive you; she will not be able to hold out against you +five minutes if you crowd her. Trust my word. I know more about girls +than you do; but, above all, I know Rita." + +Miss Tousy watched him as he stood before her, hanging his head, a very +handsome picture of abject humility. After a moment of silence Dic +answered:-- + +"Miss Tousy, the truth is, I have lost all self-respect, and know that I +am both a fool and a--a criminal. Rita will not, cannot, and ought not +to forgive me. I am entirely unworthy of her. She is gentle and tender +as she can be; but she has more spirit than you would suspect. I have +seen her under the most trying circumstances, and with all her +gentleness she is very strong. I have lost her and must give her up." + +"You'll be no such fool," cried Miss Tousy; "but some one is knocking at +the front door. Be seated, please." She opened the front hall door, +kissed "some one" who had knocked, and said to "some one":-- + +"Step into the parlor, please. I will be with you soon." Then she closed +the parlor door and basely fled. + +Dic sprang to his feet, and Rita, turning backward toward the door, +stood trembling, her hand on the knob. + +"Don't go, Rita," said Dic, huskily. "I did not know you were coming +here. I give you my word, I did not set a trap for you. Miss Tousy will +tell you I had no thought of seeing you here. I wanted to see you, but +I would not try to entrap you. I intended going to your house openly +that you might refuse to see me if you wished; but since you are here, +please--oh, Rita, for God's sake, stay and hear me. I am almost crazed +by what I have suffered, though I deserve it all, all. You don't know +what I have to say." She partly opened the door; but he stepped quickly +to her side, shut the door, and spoke almost angrily:-- + +"You shall hear me, and after I have spoken, if you wish, you may go, +but not until then." + +He unclasped her hand from the knob, and, using more of his great +strength than he knew, led her to a chair and brought another for +himself. + +The touch of command in Dic's manner sent a strange thrill to the girl's +heart, and she learned in one brief moment that all her sophistry had +been in vain; that her love was not dead, and could not be killed. That +knowledge, however, did not change her resolution not to forgive him. +You see, there was a touch of the Chief Justice in the girl. + +"I want you to hear me, Rita, and, if you can, I want you to forgive me, +and then I want you to forget me," said Dic. + +The words "forget me" were not what she had expected to hear. She had +supposed he would make a plea for forgiveness and beg to be taken back; +but the words "forget me," seeming to lead in another direction, +surprised her. With all her resolutions she was not prepared to forget. +She lifted her eyes for a fleeting glance, and could not help thinking +that the memory of his face had been much less effective than its +presence. The tones of his voice, too, were stronger and sweeter at +close range than she had remembered. In short, Dic by her side and Dic +twenty-five miles away were two different propositions--the former a +very dangerous and irresistible one, indeed. Still, she would not +forgive him. She could not and would not forget him; but she would shut +her eyes to the handsome face, she would close her ears to the deep, +strong voice, she would harden her heart to his ardent love, and, alas! +to her own. She insisted to herself that she no longer loved him, and +never, never would. + +Every word that Sukey had ever spoken concerning Dic, every meeting of +which she knew that had ever taken place between him and the +dimpler,--in fact, all the trivial events that had happened between her +lover and the girl who was trying to steal him from her, including the +occurrence at Scott's social,--came vividly back to Rita at that moment +with exaggerated meaning, and told her she had for years been a poor, +trusting dupe. She would listen to Dic because he was the stronger and +could compel her to remain in the room; but when he should finish, she +would go and would never speak to Miss Tousy again. + +"This is a terrible calamity I have brought upon us," said Dic, speaking +with difficulty and constraint. "It is like blindness or madness, and +means wretchedness for life to you and me." + +Still the unexpected direction, thought Rita, but she answered out of +her firm resolve:-- + +"I shall not be wretched, for I do not--don't care. The time was when I +did care very, very much; but now I--" She did not finish the sentence, +and her conscience reproached her, for she knew she was uttering a big, +black lie. + +Dic had expected scorn, and had thought he would be able to bear it +without flinching. He had fortified himself days before by driving all +hope out of his heart, but (as we say and feel when our dear ones die) +he was not prepared, even though he well knew what was coming. Her words +stunned him for a moment, but he soon pulled himself together, and his +unselfish love brought a feeling akin to relief: a poor, dry sort of +joy, because he had learned that she did not suffer the pain that was +torturing him. No mean part of his pain was because of Rita's suffering. +If she did not suffer, he could endure the penalty of his sin with +greater fortitude. This slight relief came to him, not because his love +was weak, but because his unselfishness was strong. + +"If I could really believe that you do not care," he said, struggling +with a torturing lump in his throat, "if I could surely know that you do +not suffer the pain I feel, I might endure it--God in heaven! I suppose +I might endure it. But when I think that I have brought suffering to +you, I am almost wild." + +The girl's hands were folded demurely upon her lap, and she was gazing +down at them. She lifted her eyes for an instant, and there was an +unwonted hardness in them as she answered: "You need not waste any +sympathy on me. I don't want it." + +"Is it really true, Rita," he asked, "that you no longer care for me? +Was your love a mere garment you could throw off at will?" He paused, +but Rita making no reply, he continued: "It wounds my vanity to learn +that I so greatly overestimated your love for me, and I can hardly +believe that you speak the truth, but--but I hope--I almost hope you do. +Every sense of honor I possess tells me I must accept the wages of my +sin and marry Sukey Yates, even though--" + +Suddenly a change came over the scene. The girl who had been so passive +and cold at once became active and very warm. She sprang to her feet, +panting with excitement. Resolutions and righteous indignation were +scattered to the four winds by the tremendous shock of his words. Sukey +at last had stolen him. That thought seemed to be burning itself into +the very heart of her consciousness. + +"You--you marry Sukey Yates!" she cried, breathing heavily and leaning +toward Dic, one hand resting on the arm of his chair, "you _marry_ her?" +The question was almost a wail. + +"But if you no longer care there can be no reason why I should not," +said Dic, hardly knowing in the whirl of his surprise what he was +saying. + +Rita thought of the letter to Tom, and all the sympathetic instincts of +her nature sprang up to protect Dic, and to save him from Sukey's wicked +designs. + +"Oh," she cried, falling back into her chair, "you surely did not +believe me!" + +"And you do care?" asked Dic, almost stunned by her sudden change of +front. Rita's conduct had always been so sedate and sensible that he did +not suppose she was possessed of ordinary feminine weaknesses. + +"Oh, Dic," she replied, "I never thought you would desert me." +_In_consistency may also be a jewel. + +Dic concluded he was an incarnate mistake. Whichever way he turned, he +seemed to be wrong. + +"I desert you?" he exclaimed. "But you returned my ring and did not even +answer my letter, and now your scorn--" + +"What else could you expect?" asked the girl, in a passionate flow of +tears. + +"I don't know what I expected, but I certainly did not expect this," +answered Dic, musing on the blessed fault of inconsistency that dwells +in every normal woman's breast. "I did not expect this, or I should have +acted differently toward her after you returned the ring. I would not +have--I--I--God help me!" and he buried his face in his hands. + +"You would not have done what, Dic? Tell me all." Her heart came to him +in his trouble. He had sinned, but he was suffering, and that she could +not bear. + +The low, soft tones of her voice soothed him, and he answered: "I would +not have allowed her to believe I intended marrying her. I did not tell +her in words that I would, but--I can't tell you. I can't speak." He saw +Rita's face turn pale, and though his words almost choked him, he +continued, "I suppose I must pay the penalty of my sin." + +He gently put the girl from him, and went to the window, where he +leaned, gazing into the street. She also rose, and stood waiting for him +to speak. After a long pause she called his name,-- + +"Dic!" + +When he turned she was holding out her arms to him, and the next moment +they were round his neck. + +After a blank hour of almost total silence in the parlor, Miss Tousy +came to the door and knocked. She had listened at the door several times +during the hour; but, hearing no enlightening words or sounds, she had +retreated in good order. + +Allowing a moment to elapse after knocking, Miss Tousy called:-- + +"Are you still there?" + +Rita had been very still there, and was vividly conscious of the fact +when Miss Tousy knocked. Going to the door, Rita opened it, saying:-- + +"Yes, we are still here. I'm ashamed to have kept you out so long." She +looked her shame and blushed most convincingly. + +Upon hearing the knock, Dic hurried over to the window, and when Miss +Tousy entered he deluded himself into the belief that his attitude of +careless repose would induce her to conclude he had been standing there +all the afternoon. But Miss Tousy, in common with all other young +ladies, had innate knowledge upon such subjects, and possibly also a +little experience--she was twenty-five, mind you--; so she was amused +rather than deceived. + +"Well?" she asked, and paused for answer. + +"Yes," answered Rita. + +They understood each other, if we do not, for Miss Tousy kissed Rita and +then boldly went to Dic and deliberately kissed him. Thereupon Rita +cried, "Oh!" Dic blushed, and all three laughed. + +"But I'll leave you to yourselves again," said accommodating Miss Tousy. +"I know you want to be alone." + +"Oh, we are through," answered Rita, blushing, and Dic reluctantly +assented. Miss Tousy laughed and asked:-- + +"Through what?" + +Then there was more blushing and more laughing, and Rita replied, "Just +through--that's all." + +"Well, I congratulate you," said Miss Tousy, taking Rita's hand, "and am +very happy that I have been the means of bringing you together again. +Take the advice of one who is older than you," continued Miss Tousy, the +old and the wise, "and never, never again allow anything to separate +you. Love is the sweetest blossom of life, whose gentle wings will +always cover you with the aromatic harmony of an everlasting sunlight." +Rita thought the metaphor beautiful, and Dic was too interested to be +critical. Then Rita and Miss Tousy, without any reason at all, began to +weep, and Dic felt as uncomfortable as the tears of two women could make +him. + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS GIFT + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CHRISTMAS GIFT + + +Dic started home with his heart full of unalloyed happiness; but at the +end of four hours, when he was stabling his horse, the old pain for the +sake of another's sorrow asserted itself, and his happiness seemed to be +a sin. Rita's tender heart also underwent a change while she lay that +night wakeful with joy and gazing into the darkness. + +Amid all her joy came the ever recurring vision of Sukey's wretchedness. +While under the convincing influence of her own arguments and Dic's +resistless presence, she had seen but one side of the question,--her +own; but darkness is a great help to the inner sight, and now the other +side of the case had its hearing. She remembered Sukey's letter to Tom, +but she knew the unfortunate girl loved Dic. Was it right, she asked +herself over and over again, was it right that she should be happy at +the cost of another's woe? Then came again the flood of her great +longing--the longing of her whole life--and she tried to tell herself +she did not care who suffered, she intended to be happy. That was the +way of the world, and it should be her way. But Rita's heart was a poor +place for such thoughts to thrive, and when she arose next morning, +after a sleepless night of mingled joy and sorrow, she was almost as +unhappy as she had been the previous morning. She spent several days and +nights alternating between two opinions; but finally, after repeated +conversations with Miss Tousy, whose opinions you already know, and +after meditating upon Sukey's endeavor to entrap two men, she arrived at +two opposing conclusions. First, it was her duty to give Dic up; and +second, she would do nothing of the sort. That was the first, and I +believe the only selfish resolve that ever established itself in the +girl's heart with her full knowledge and consent. But the motive behind +it was overpowering. She shut her lips and said she "didn't care," and +once having definitely settled the question, she dismissed it, feeling +that she was very sinful, but also very happy. + +Dic, of course, soon sought Billy Little, the ever ready receptacle of +his joys and sorrows. + +No man loved the words, "I told you so," more dearly than Little, and +when Dic entered the store he was greeted with that irritating sentence +before he had spoken a word. + +"You told me what?" asked Dic, pretending not to understand. + +"Come, come," returned Billy, joyously, "I see it in your face. You know +what I mean. Don't try to appear more thick-headed than you are. Oh, +perhaps you are troubled with false modesty, and wish to hide the light +of a keen perception. Let it shine, Dic, let it shine. Hide it not. +Avoid the bushel." + +Dic laughed and said: "Well, you were right; she did forgive me. Now +please don't continue to point out your superior wisdom. I see it +without your help. Get thee a bushel, Billy Little, lest you shine too +brightly." + +"No insolence, young man, no insolence," retorted Billy, with a face +grave and serious, save for a joyful smile in his eyes. + +"Close the store door, Billy Little," said Dic, after a few minutes of +conversation, "and come back to the room. I want to talk to you." + +"The conceit of some people!" replied the happy merchant. "So you would +have me close my emporium for the sake of your small affairs?" + +"Yes," responded Dic. + +"Well, nothing wins like self-conceit," answered Billy. "Here's the key. +Lock the front door, and I'll be with you when I fold this bolt of India +silk." + +Dic locked the door, Billy finished folding the India silk--a bolt of +two-bit muslin,--and the friends went into the back room. + +How sweet it is to prepare one's self deliberately for good news! Billy, +in a glow of joy, lighted his pipe, moved his chair close to the +fireplace, for the day was cold, and gave the word of command--"Go +ahead!" + +Dic told him all that had happened in Miss Tousy's parlor, omitting, of +course, to mention the blank hour, and added: "I had a letter from Rita +this morning, and she feels as I do, that we are very cruel; but she +says she would rather be selfish and happy than unselfish and miserable, +which, as you know, is not at all true. She couldn't be selfish if she +were to try." + +"Good little brain in that little head," exclaimed Billy. "There never +was a better. But, as you say, she's wrong in charging herself with +selfishness. I believe she has more common sense, more virtue, more +tenderness, gentleness, beauty, and unselfishness than any other girl in +the world." + +Dic laughed, very much pleased with his friend's comments upon Rita. "I +believe you are in love with her yourself." + +The shaft unintentionally struck centre and Billy's scalp blushed as he +haltingly remarked, "Well, I suppose you're right." Then after a long +pause--"Maxwelton's braes, um, um, um." Another long pause ensued, +during which Billy knocked the ashes from his pipe against the wall of +the fireplace, poked the back-log, and threw on two or three large +pieces of wood. + +"I don't mind telling you," he said, chuckling with laughter, "that I +was almost in love with her at one time. She was so perfect--had the +same name, face, and disposition of--of another that--Jove! I was +terribly jealous of you." + +"Nonsense," answered Dic, with a great pleased laugh. + +"Of course it was nonsense. I knew it then and know it now; but when, +let me ask you, had nonsense or any other kind of sense anything to do +with a man falling in love?" + +"I think it the most sensible thing a man can do," answered Dic, out of +the fulness of his cup of youth. + +"Has it made you happy?" + +"Yes, and no." + +"But mostly no?" responded the cynic. + +"Yes, Billy Little, so far it's been mostly no; but the time will come +when I will be very happy because of it." + +"Not if you can help it. We will see how it turns out in the end." + +"Billy Little, you are the greatest croaker I ever knew," observed Dic, +testily. + +"It is better to croak early than to sing too soon. But what do you +want?" + +"I want to know again what I shall do about Sukey since this new change +in Rita. When I thought Rita was lost to me, I fear I permitted Sukey to +believe I would, you know, comply with her wishes; but now I can't, and +I don't know how to tell her about it. I said nothing, but my silence +almost committed me." + +After a moment spent in thought, Billy answered: "Frederick the Great +used to say, 'In default of unanswerable arguments it is better to +express one's self laconically and not go beating about the bush.' Go +tell her." + +"That's easier to advise than to do," retorted Dic. "She will cry, +and--" + +"Yes, I know; if it were as easy to do as it is to advise, this would be +a busy world. She will cry, and a woman's tears hurt the right sort of +man. But bless my soul, Dic, why don't you settle your own affairs? I'm +tired of it all. It's getting to trouble me as much as it troubles you." +Billy paused, gazing into the fire, and dropped into a half-revery. "I +can see the poor little dimpler weeping and grieving. I can hear her +sobs and feel her heartaches. She is not good; but the fault is not +hers, and I wish I might bear her pain and suffer in her stead. I +believe it hurts me more to see others suffer than to suffer myself. I +wish I might bear every one's suffering and die on a modern Calvary. +What a glorious thought that is, Dic--the Master's vicarious atonement! +Even if the story be nothing but a fable, as some men claim, the thought +is a glorious one, and the fate--ah, the fate--but such a fate is only +for God. If I can't help the suffering of the world, I wish I might live +in the midst of Sahara, where I could not hear of human pain. It hurts +me, Dic. Indeed it does. And this poor little dimpler--I'm sorry, I'm +sorry." + +"Ah, Billy Little, think of my sorrow," said Dic. + +"It's a question whether we should shrink from our troubles or face +them," continued Little; "but in your case I should choose the +shrinking, and write to the poor, pathetic little dimpler. Poor thing! +Her days of dimpling are over. If you knew that you had led her astray, +your duty, I believe, would be clear; but there is the 'if' that gives +us serious pause and makes cowards of us both. Write to her, Dic. You +are too great a coward to face her, and I'm not brave enough even to +advise it." + +Dic wrote to Sukey, and avoided the pain of facing her, but not the pain +of knowing that she suffered. His letter brought an answer from Sukey +that was harder to bear than reproaches. + +Within two or three days Sukey wrote to Rita, whom she knew to be the +cause of Dic's desertion. The letter to Rita, like the one to Dic, +contained no word of reproach. "I do not blame you for keeping him," she +said in closing. "He has always belonged to you. I hope you will be +happy and not trouble yourselves about me. No one knows about this +terrible affair, Rita, but you and Dic, and I hope you will tell nobody. +Especially, please, please, don't tell Tom. This is the only request I +make: don't let Tom know anything about it. I want to confess, Rita, +that I have been very wicked, and that Dic is not to blame. I feel it my +duty to tell you this, so that you may not blame him. I have brought +trouble to you both, and it is as little as I should do to tell you the +truth. The fault was mine. I gave him a love powder. But I loved him." + +Sukey's letter came one morning four or five days before Christmas. Rita +wept all day over it, and at night it helped her in taking a step that +settled all the momentous questions touching Dic and herself. + +On the same fateful day Mr. Bays and Tom came home together in the +middle of the afternoon. That unwonted event was, in itself, alarming. +Rita was reading near the window, and her mother was knitting before the +fire. When our Toms, father and son, entered the room, trouble was +plainly visible upon their faces. Tom senior threw his cap and great fur +coat on the bed, while De Triflin' leaned against the mantel-shelf. +Drawing a chair to the fire, Tom the elder said:-- + +"Well, Margarita, I guess we're ruined--Jim and me and Tom--all of us. I +see no earthly way out of it." + +"What's the matter?" asked Madam Jeffreys, folding her knitting and +placing it in her lap with great deliberation. Rita dropped her book, +and went over to her father. + +"Williams, I suppose?" queried Madam Jeffreys. + +"Yes; he has had orders from home to collect the money we owe the house, +or else to take the store, the farm, our household furniture, +everything, at once. Williams leaves for home Christmas Day, and +everything must be settled before then. He gives us till to-morrow noon +to raise the money. But that is not the worst," continued Mr. Bays, +nervously, rising and turning his back to the fire, "Tom has--has +overdrawn his account more than a thousand dollars in Williams's office. +Williams don't call it 'overdrawn.' He calls it embezzlement, theft. Tom +and me went to Judge Blackford and told him just how the money was +taken. The Judge says Williams is right about it; it is embezzlement, +and Williams says the firm insists on prosecuting Tom and sending him to +the penitentiary if the money is not replaced. God only knows what we +are to do, Margarita. The farm is mortgaged for its full value, and so +far as I can see we are ruined, ruined." Tears began to flow over his +cheeks, and Rita, drawing his face down to hers, stood on tiptoe and +tried to kiss the tears away. + +"Let me go to see Billy Little," she said in desperation. "He will lend +us the money; I know he will." + +"Like h--he will," cried gentle Tom. "Dic asked him to loan me enough +money to pay my overdraft--said he would go on the note--but he refused +point blank; said the twenty-three hundred dollars he loaned father and +Uncle Jim Fisher was all the money he had. The miserly old curmudgeon!" + +Mrs. Bays went weeping to Tom's side. "Poor Tom, my dear, dear son," she +whimpered, trying to embrace him. + +Dear son roughly repulsed her, saying: "There's no need to go outside of +our family for help. If Rita wasn't the most selfish, ungrateful fool +alive, she'd settle all our troubles by one word." + +"Would you have me sell myself, Tom?" asked the ungrateful sister. + +"Of course I would!! sell yourself!! rot!! You'd be getting a mighty +good price. There's lots better-looking girls 'en you would jump at the +chance. Sell yourself? Ain't Williams a fine gentleman? Where's another +like him? Ain't he rich? Ain't he everything a girl could want in a +man--everything but a green country clodhopper?" + +"All that may be true, Tom, but I can't marry him. I can't," returned +Rita, weeping and sobbing in her father's arms. + +"Can't you, Rita?" asked Mr. Bays. "All that Tom says about him is true, +every word. Williams is good enough for any girl in the world but you. +No man is that. You would soon forget Dic." + +"No, no, father, never, never, in all my life." + +"And you would soon learn to like Williams," continued the distracted +father. "Please, Rita, try to do this and save me and Tom." + +"She shall do it," cried Madam Jeffreys, taking courage from the +knowledge that at last her husband was her ally. She went to Rita and +pulled her from her father's arms. "She shall do it or go into the +street this very night, never to enter my house again. I'll never speak +to her again if she don't. It will pain me to treat my own flesh and +blood so harshly, but it is my duty--my duty. I have toiled and suffered +and endured for her sake all my life, and it will almost kill me to turn +against her now; but if she don't save her father and brother, I surely +will. God tells me it is my duty. I do not care for myself. I have eaten +husks all my life, ever since I got married, and I can die eating them; +but for the sake of my dear husband and my dear son who bears his own +father's name, it is my duty, God tells me it is my duty to spurn her. +It is but duty and justice; and justice to all is my motto. It was my +father's motto." She was a wordy orator, but her vocabulary was +limited; and after several repetitions of the foregoing sentiments, she +turned from oratory to anatomy. "Oh, my heart," she cried, placing her +hand upon her breast, "I believe I am about to die." + +She sank gasping into the chair, from which she had risen to hurl her +Philippic at Rita's head, and by sheer force of her indomitable will +caused a most alarming pallor to overspread her face. Rita ran for the +camphor, Mr. Bays fetched the whiskey, and under these restoratives +Madam Jeffreys so far recovered that her husband and son were able to +remove her from the chair to the bed. Rita, in tribulation and tears, +sat upon the bedside, chafing her mother's hands and doing all in her +power to relieve the sufferer. + +"Don't touch me, ungrateful child," cried Mrs. Margarita, "don't touch +me! If you won't save your father and brother from ruin when you can, +you are not fit to touch your mother. I am dying now," she continued, +gasping for breath. "Because of your cruelty and ingratitude, the blow +has been more than God, in His infinite mercy, has given me strength to +endure. When I am gone, you will remember about this. I forgive you; I +forgive you." Sigh followed sigh, and Rita feared she had killed her +parent. + +"Oh, mother," she sobbed, "I will do what you wish. Ah, no, I can't. I +can't do it. Don't ask me." + +"Beg her, father, beg her," whispered Mrs. Bays to her spouse when she +saw that Rita was wavering. Bays hesitated; but a look from the bed +brought him to a proper condition of obedience:-- + +"Rita, won't you save your father and brother?" he asked, taking his +daughter's hands in his own. "We are all ruined and disgraced and lost +forever if you do not. Rita, I beg you to do this for my sake." + +The father's appeal she could not withstand. She covered her face with +her hands; then, suddenly drawing herself upright and drying her tears, +she said in a low voice, "I will." + +Those two little words changed the world for father and son from +darkness to light. They seemed also to possess wonderful curative powers +for heart trouble, for within three minutes they snatched my Lady +Jeffreys from the jaws of death and placed her upright in the bed. +Within another minute she was on her feet, well and hearty as ever, +busily engaged evolving a plan for immediate action. + +"Write to Williams at once," she said to Rita, "asking him to call this +evening. Tell him you want to talk to him about your father's affairs." + +Rita again hesitated, but she had given her word, and accordingly +wrote:-- + + + "MR. WILLIAMS: If not otherwise engaged, will you please call this + evening. I am in great trouble about my father and Tom, and wish to + talk to you concerning their affairs. + + "RITA." + + +Tom delivered the note, which threw Williams into a state of ecstasy +bordering on intoxication. + +I beg you to pause and consider this girl's piteous condition. Never in +all the eighteen years of her life had she unnecessarily given pain to a +human heart. A tender, gentle strength, love for all who were near her, +fidelity to truth, and purity without the blemish of even an impure +thought, had gone to make up the sum of her existence. As a reward for +all these virtues she was now called upon to bear the burden of an +unspeakable anguish. What keener joy could she know than that which had +come to her through her love for Dic? What agony more poignant could she +suffer than the loss of him? But, putting Dic aside, what calamity +could so blacken the future for her, or for any pure girl, as marriage +with a man she loathed? We often speak of these tragedies regretfully +and carelessly; but imagine yourself in her position, and you will pity +this poor girl of mine, who was about to be sold to the man whom she +despised--and who, worst of all, loved her. Madame Pompadour says in her +memoirs, "I was married to one whom I did not love, and a misfortune +still greater was that he loved me." That condition must be the acme of +a woman's suffering. + +Williams knocked at Rita's door early in the evening, and was admitted +to the front parlor by the girl herself. She took a chair and asked him +to be seated. Then a long, awkward silence ensued, which was broken by +Williams:-- + +"You said you wished to see me. Is there any way in which I can serve +you?" + +"Yes," she murmured, speaking with difficulty. "My father and Tom are in +trouble, and I wanted to ask you if anything could be done to--to--" she +ceased speaking, and in a moment Williams said:-- + +"I have held the house off for four or five months, and I cannot induce +them to wait longer. Their letters are imperative. I wish I had brought +them." + +"Then nothing can save them?" asked Rita. The words almost choked her, +because she knew the response they would elicit. She was asking him to +ask her to marry him. + +"Rita, there is one thing might save them," replied Roger of the craven +heart. "You know what that is. I have spoken of it so often I am almost +ashamed to speak again." Well he might be. + +"Well, what is it? Go on," said Rita, without a sign of faltering. She +wanted to end the agony as soon as possible. + +"If you will marry me, Rita--you know how dearly I love you; I need not +tell you of that. Were you not so sure of my love, I might stand better +with you. You see, if you will marry me my father could not, in decency, +prosecute Tom or ruin your father. He would be compelled to protect them +both, being in the family, you know." + +"If you will release Tom and save my father from ruin I will ... will +do ... as ... you ... wish," answered the girl. Cold and clear were the +words which closed this bargain, and cold as ice was the heart that sold +itself. + +Williams stepped quickly to her side, exclaiming delightedly, "Rita, +Rita, is it really true at last?" + +He attempted to kiss her, but she held up her hand warningly. + +"No," she said, "not till I am your wife. Then I must submit. Till then +I belong to myself." + +"I have waited a long time," answered this patient suitor, "and I can +wait a little longer. When shall we be married?" + +"Fix the time yourself," she replied. + +"I am to leave Christmas morning by the Napoleon stage for home, and if +you wish we may be married Christmas Eve. That will give you four days +for preparation." + +"As you wish," was the response. + +"I know, Rita, you do not love me," said Williams, tenderly. + +"You surely do," she interrupted. + +"But I also know," he continued, "that I can win your love when you are +my wife. I know it, or I would not ask you to marry me. I would not +accept your hand if I were not sure that I would soon possess your +heart. I will be so loving and tender and your life will be so +perfect--so different from anything you have ever known--that you will +soon be glad you gave yourself to me. It will not be long, Rita, not +long." + +"Perhaps you are right," she answered with her lips; but in her heart +this girl, who was all tenderness and love, prayed God to strike him +dead before Christmas Eve should come. + +Williams again took his chair, but Rita said, "I have given you my +promise. I--I am--I fear I am ill. Please excuse me for the rest of the +evening and--and leave me, I beg you." + +Williams took his leave, and Rita went into the sitting room, where +father, mother, and Tom were waiting for the verdict. + +"You are saved," said Rita, as if she were announcing dinner. + +"My daughter! my own dear child! God will bless you!" exclaimed the +tender mother, hurrying to embrace the cause of her joy. + +"Don't touch me!" said Rita. "I--I--God help me! I--I fear--I--hate +you." She turned to the stairway and went to her own room. For hours she +sat by the window, gazing into the street, but toward morning she +lighted a candle and told Dic the whole piteous story in a dozen pages +of anguish and love. + + * * * * * + +After receiving Sukey's letter, Dic left home for a few days to engage +horses to take east with him in the spring. He did not return until late +in the afternoon of the day before Christmas. + +On the morning of that day--the day before Christmas--Jasper Yates, +Sukey's father, came to Billy Little's store in great agitation. Tom +Bays had been there the day before and had imparted to Billy the news of +Rita's forthcoming wedding. She had supposed that Dic would tell him and +had not written; but Dic was away from home and had not received her +letter. + +I cannot describe to you the overpowering grief this announcement +brought to the tender bachelor heart. It stunned him, crushed him, +almost killed him; but he tried to bear up manfully under the weight of +his grief. He tried, ah, so hard, not to show his suffering, and +Maxwelton's braes, was sung all day and was played nearly all night; but +the time had come to Billy when even music could not soothe him. There +was a dry, hard anguish at his heart that all the music of heaven or of +earth could not soften. Late in the night he shut his piano in disgust +and sat before the fire during the long black hours without even the +comfort of a tear. + +When Tom imparted the intelligence of Rita's wedding, he also asked +Billy for a loan of four hundred dollars. As an inducement, he explained +that he had forged the name of Mr. Wallace to a note calling for that +sum, and had negotiated the note at an Indianapolis bank. Rita's +marriage would settle the Williams theft, but the matter of the forgery +called for immediate adjustment in cash. Billy refused the loan; but he +gave Tom fifty dollars and advised him to leave the state. + +"If you don't go," said Billy, savagely, "you will be sent to the +penitentiary. Rita can't marry every one you have stolen from. What did +you do with the money you stole from me--Dic's money? Tell me, or I'll +call an officer at once. I'll arrest you myself and commit you. I'm a +justice of the peace. Now confess, you miserable thief." + +Tom turned pale, and, seeing that Billy was in dreadful earnest, began +to cry: "There was five of us in that job," he whispered, "and, Mr. +Little, I never got none of the money. Con Gagen and Mike Doles got it +all. I give them the sacks to keep for a while after I left the store. +They promised to divide, but they run away soon afterwards, and of +course we others were afeared to peach. I didn't know you knowed it. Con +Gagen put me up to it." + +"Well, I do know it. I recognized you when you climbed out the window, +and did not shoot you because you were Rita's brother. I said nothing +of the robbery for the same reason, but I made a mistake. Leave my +store. Get out of the state at once. If you are here Christmas Day, I'll +send you where you belong." + +Tom took the fifty dollars and the advice; and the next day--the day +before Christmas, the day set for Rita's wedding--Sukey's father entered +Billy's store, as I have already told you, in great agitation. + +After Yates had talked to Billy for three or four minutes, the latter +hurriedly closed the store door, donned the Brummel coat, and went +across the road to the inn where the Indianapolis coach was waiting, and +took his place. + +At six o'clock that evening Dic arrived at Billy Little's store from his +southern expedition. Finding the store door locked, he got the key from +the landlord of the inn, in whose charge Billy had left it, went to the +post-office, and rejoiced to find a letter from Rita. He eagerly opened +it--and rode home more dead than alive. Rita's wedding would take place +that night at eight o'clock. The thing was hopeless. He showed the +letter to his mother, and asked that he might be left alone with his +sorrow. Mrs. Bright kissed him and retired to her bed in the adjoining +room, leaving Dic sitting upon the hearth log beside the fire. + +Dic did not blame Rita. He loved her more dearly than ever before, if +that were possible, because she was capable of making the awful +sacrifice. He well knew what she would suffer. The thought of her +anguish drowned the pain he felt on his own account, and his suffering +for her sake seemed more than he could bear. Billy Little, he supposed, +had gone to the wedding, and for the first time in Dic's life he was +angry with that steadfast friend. Dic knew that the sudden plunge from +joy to anguish had brought a benumbing shock, and while he sat beside +the fire he realized that his suffering had only begun--that his real +anguish would come with the keener consciousness of reaction. + +At four o'clock that same afternoon Billy was seated in Rita's parlor, +whispering to her. "My dear girl, I bring you good news. You can't save +Tom. He forged Wallace's name to a note for four hundred dollars, and +passed it at the bank six weeks ago. He wanted to borrow the money from +me to pay the note, but I did not have it. I gave him fifty dollars, and +he has run away--left the state for no one knows where. He carried off +two of Yates's horses, and, best of all, he carried off Sukey. All +reasons for sacrificing yourself to this man Williams are now removed, +save only your father's debt. That, Fisher tells me, has been renewed +for sixty days, and at the end of that time your father and Fisher will +again have it to face. You could not save them, Rita, if you were to +marry half the men in Boston. Even if this debt were paid--cancelled +--instead of renewed, your father would soon be as badly +off as ever. A bank couldn't keep him in business, Rita. Every one he +deals with robs and cheats him. He's a good man, Rita, kind, honest, and +hard working, but he is fit only to farm. I hate to say it, but in many +respects your father is a great fool, very much like Tom. It is easier +to save ten knaves than one fool. A leopard is a leopard; a nigger is a +nigger. God can change the spots of the one and the color of the other, +but I'm blessed if I believe even God can unmake a fool. Now my dear +girl, don't throw away your happiness for life in a hopeless effort to +save your father from financial ruin." + +"But I have given my word, Billy Little," replied the girl, to whom a +promise was a sacred thing. "I believe my father and mother would die if +I were to withdraw. I must go on, I must; it is my doom. It is only +three hours--oh, my God! have mercy on me--" and she broke down, +weeping piteously. Soon she continued: "The guests are all invited, and +oh, I can't escape, I can't! I have given my word; I am lost. Thank you, +dear friend, thank you, for your effort to help me; but it is too late, +too late!" + +"No, it is not too late," continued Billy; "but in three hours it will +be too late, and you will curse yourself because you did not listen to +me." + +"I know I shall; I know it only too well," replied the weeping girl. "I +will not ask you to remain for the--the tragedy." + +"I would not witness it," cried Billy, "for all the gold in the world! +When I'm gone, Rita, remember what I've said. Do not wait until it is +too late, but come with me; come now with me, Rita, and let the +consequences be what they will. They cannot be so evil as those which +will follow your marriage. You do not know. You do not understand. Come +with me, girl, come with me. Do not hesitate. When I have left you, it +will be too late, too late. God only can help you; and if you walk +open-eyed into this trouble, He will _not_ help you. He helps those who +help themselves." + +"No, Billy Little, no; I cannot go with you. I have given my word. I +have cast the die." + +With these words Billy arose, took up his hat, stick, and gloves, went +out into the hall, and opened the front door to go. + +"When I'm gone, Rita, remember what I have said and what I'm about to +say, and even though the minister be standing before you, until you have +spoken the fatal words, it will not be too late. You are an innocent +girl, ignorant of many things in life. Still, every girl, if she but +stops to think, has innate knowledge of much that she is supposed not to +know. When I'm gone, Rita, _think_, girl, _think_, think of this night; +this night after the ceremony, when all the guests have gone and you +are alone with him. Kill yourself, Rita, if you will, if there is no +other way out of it--kill yourself, but don't marry that man. For the +sake of God's love, don't marry him. Death will be sweet compared to +that which you will suffer if you do. Good-by, Rita. Think of this +night, girl; think of this night." + +"Good-by, Billy Little, good-by," cried the girl, while tears streamed +over her cheeks. As she closed the door behind him she covered her face +with her hands and moaned: "I cannot marry him. How can I kill myself? +How can I escape?" + +Meanwhile Madam Jeffreys had donned her black silk dress, made expressly +for the occasion, and was a very busy, happy woman indeed. She did not +know that Tom had run away, but was expecting him home from Blue by the +late stage, which would arrive about seven o'clock. + +Billy left for home on the five o'clock stage, but before he left he had +a talk with Rita's father. + +Soon after Billy's departure, Miss Tousy and a few young lady friends +came to assist at the bride's toilet. It was a doleful party of +bridesmaids in Rita's room, you may be sure; but by seven o'clock she +was dressed. When the task was finished, she said to her friends:-- + +"I am very tired. I have an hour before the ceremony, and I should like +to sit alone by the window in the dark to rest and think. Please leave +me to myself. I will lock the door, and, Miss Tousy, please allow no one +to disturb me." + +"No one shall disturb you, my dear," answered Miss Tousy, weeping as she +kissed her. Then the young ladies left the room, and Rita locked the +door. + +Ten minutes later Mr. Bays entered from Tom's room, which was +immediately back of Rita's. A stairway descended from Tom's room to the +back yard. + +[Illustration: "'HERE,' REPLIED THE GIRL."] + +Mr. Bays kissed Rita, and hastily whispered: "My great-coat, cap, and +gloves are on Tom's bed. Buck is saddled in the stable. Don't ever let +your mother know I did this. Good-by. I would rather die than see you +marry this man and lose Dic. Don't let your mother know," and he hurried +from the room. + +Rita went hurriedly into Tom's room and put on the great-coat, made of +coonskins, a pair of squirrel-skin gloves, and a heavy beaver cap with +curtains that fell almost to her shoulders. She also drew over her shoes +a pair of heavy woollen stockings; and thus arrayed, she ran down the +stairway to the back yard. Flurrying to the stable, she led out "Old +Buck," Mr. Bays's riding horse, and galloped forth in the dark, cold +night for a twenty-six mile ride to Billy Little. + +Soon after Rita's departure the guests began to assemble. At ten minutes +before eight came Williams. Upon his arrival, Mrs. Bays insisted that +Rita should be called, so she and Miss Tousy went to Rita's door and +knocked. The knock was repeated; still no answer. Then Mrs. Bays +determined to enter Rita's room through Tom's,--and I will draw a veil +over the scene of consternation, confusion, and rage that ensued. + + * * * * * + +Near the hour of two o'clock in the morning another scene of this drama +was enacted, twenty-six miles away. Billy Little was roused from his +dreams--black nightmares they had been--by a knocking on his store door, +and when he sat up in bed to listen, he heard Rita's voice calling:-- + +"Billy Little, let me in." + +Billy ran to unlock the front door, crying: "Come in, come in, God bless +my soul, come in. Maxwelton's braes _are_ bonny, bonny, bonny. Tell me, +are you alone?" + +"Yes, Billy, I'm alone, and I fear they will follow me. Hide me +somewhere. But you'll freeze without your coat. Go and--" + +"Bless me, I haven't my coat and waistcoat on. Excuse me; +excuse--Maxwelton's--I'll be out immediately." And the little old fellow +scampered to his bedroom to complete his toilet. Then he lighted a +candle, placed wood on the fire, and called Rita back to his sanctum +sanctorum. She was very cold; but a spoonful of whiskey, prescribed by +Dr. Little, with a drop of water and a pinch of sugar, together with a +bit of cheese and a biscuit from the store, and the great crackling fire +on the hearth, soon brought warmth to her heart and color to her cheeks. + +"What are you going to do with me now you've got me? They will come here +first to find me," she asked, laughing nervously. + +"We'll go to Dic," said Billy, after a moment's meditation. "We'll go to +Dic as soon as you are rested." + +"Oh, Billy Little, I--I can't go to him. You know I'm not--not--you +know." + +"Not married? Is that what you mean?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm mighty thankful you are not. Dic's mother is with him. It will be +all perfectly proper. But never mind; I have another idea. I'll think it +over as we ride." + +After Rita had rested, Billy donned the Beau Brummel coat and saddled +his horse, and the pair started up Blue to awaken Dic. He needed no +awakening, for he was sitting where we left him, on the hearth, gazing +into a bed of embers. + +When our runaway couple reached Dic's house, Billy hitched his horse, +told Rita to knock at the front door, and took her horse to the stable. + +When Dic heard the knock at that strange hour of the night, he +called:-- + +"Who's there?" + +"Rita." + +Dic began to fear his troubles had affected his mind; but when he heard +a voice unmistakably hers calling, "Please let me in; I have brought you +a Christmas gift," he knew that he was sane, and that either Rita or her +wraith was at the door. When she entered, clad in her wedding gown, +coonskin coat and beaver cap, he again began to doubt his senses and +stood in wonder, looking at her. + +"Aren't you glad to see me, Dic?" she asked, laughing. Still he did not +respond, and she continued, "I have ridden all night to bring you a +Christmas gift." + +"A Christmas gift?" he repeated, hardly conscious of the words he spoke, +so great had been the shock of his awakening from a dream of pain to a +reality of bliss. "Where--where is it?" + +"Here," replied the girl, throwing off the great-coat and pressing her +hands upon her bosom to indicate herself. Then Dic, in a flood of +perceptive light and returning consciousness, caught the priceless +Christmas gift to his heart without further question. + +In a moment Billy Little entered the door that Rita had closed. + +"Here, here, break away," cried Billy, taking Rita and Dic each by the +right hand. As he did so Dic's mother entered from the adjoining room, +and Billy greeted her with "Howdy," but was too busy to make +explanations. + +"Now face me," said that little gentleman, speaking in tones of command +to Rita and Dic. + +"Clasp your right hands." The hands were clasped. "Now listen to me. +Diccon Bright, do you take this woman whom you hold by the hand to be +your wedded wife?" + +Dic's faculties again began to wane, and he did not answer at once. + +"The answer is, 'I do,' you stupid," cried Billy, and Dic said, "I do." + +"Do you, Rita Fisher Bays,--Margarita Fisher Bays,--take this man whom +you hold by the right hand to be your husband?" + +Rita's faculties were in perfect condition and very alert, so she +answered quickly, "I do." + +"Then," continued our worthy justice of the peace, "by virtue of +authority vested in me by the laws of the state of Indiana, I pronounce +you husband and wife. I kiss the bride." + +After kissing Rita, and shaking hands with Dic and Mrs. Bright, Billy +hurried out through the door, and the new-made husband and wife watched +him as he mounted and rode away. He was singing--not humming, but +singing--at his topmost pitch, "Maxwelton's braes are bonny, where early +falls the dew." He had never before been known to complete the stanza. +His voice could be heard after he had passed out of sight into the +forest, and just as the sun peeped from the east, turning the frost dust +to glittering diamonds and the snow-clad forest to a paradise in white, +the song lost itself among the trees, and Dic, closing the door, led +Rita to his hearth log. + + * * * * * + +Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall + +By CHARLES MAJOR + +_Author of "When Knighthood Was in Flower," etc._ + +With eight full-page illustrations by HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +"Dorothy Vernon is an Elizabethan maid, but a living, loving, lovable +girl.... The lover of accuracy of history in fiction may rest contented +with the story; but he will probably care little for that once he has +been caught by the spirit and freshness of the romance."--_The Mail and +Express._ + +"Dorothy is a splendid creation, a superb creature of brains, beauty, +force, capacity, and passion, a riot of energy, love, and red blood. She +is the fairest, fiercest, strongest, tenderest heroine that ever woke up +a jaded novel reader and made him realize that life will be worth living +so long as the writers of fiction create her like.... The story has +brains, 'go,' virility, gumption, and originality."--_The Boston +Transcript._ + +"Dorothy is a fascinating character, whose womanly whims and cunning +ways in dealing with her manly, honest lover and her wrathful father are +cleverly portrayed. The interest is maintained to the end. Some might +call Dorothy a vixen, but she is of that rare and ravishing kind who +have tried (and satisfied) men's souls from the days of Mother Eve to +the present time."--_The New York Herald._ + +"A romance of much delicacy, variety, strength, and grace, in which are +revealed the history of four lovers who by their purely human attributes +are distinct types."--_Evening Journal News_, Evansville. + +"As a study of woman, the incomprehensible, yet thoroughly lovable, +Dorothy Vernon clearly leads all recent attempts in fiction. Dorothy is +a wonderful creature."--_Columbus Evening Dispatch._ + +"Dorothy is a feminine whirlwind, very attractive to her audience if +somewhat disconcerting to her victims, and the story, even in these days +when romance has become a drug, makes good reading."--_New York Life._ + + * * * * * + +The Bears of Blue River + +By CHARLES MAJOR + +_Author of "Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall," etc._ + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. B. FROST AND OTHERS + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +"The book is thoroughly healthy, and it is infused through and through +with the breath of the forests. It is a delightful book to +read."--_Charleston Sun-News._ + +"The book is especially adapted to boys, but the well-rounded style of +the author, combined with a little natural history, makes it at once +interesting and instructive to young and old alike."--_Plymouth Weekly._ + +"This is not a mere 'boy's book'; it is a work of art, appealing to the +most cultured reader."--_Christian World._ + +"Though the story may have been written for boys, it is even better fun +for older people and sportsmen, as a well-written, spirited book of so +strenuous a life."--_Literary World._ + + * * * * * + +The Mettle of the Pasture + +By JAMES LANE ALLEN + +Author of "The Choir Invisible," "A Kentucky Cardinal," +etc., etc. + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +"'The Mettle of the Pasture' contains more characters and a greater +variety of them, it has more versatility, more light and shade, more +humor, than any of his previous books. The story, too, is wider in scope +and the central tragedy draws irresistibly to it.... + +"'The Mettle of the Pasture' is a novel of greatness; it is so far Mr. +Allen's masterpiece; a work of beauty and finished art. There can be no +question of its supreme place in our literature; there can be no doubt +of its wide acceptance and acceptability. More than any of his books it +is destined to an enviable popularity. It does not take extraordinary +prescience to predict an extraordinary circulation for it." + --JAMES MACARTHUR in a review in the August _Reader_. + +"It may be that 'The Mettle of the Pasture' will live and become a part +of our literature; it certainly will live far beyond the allotted term +of present-day fiction. Our principal concern is that it is a notable +novel, that it ranks high in the entire range of American and English +fiction, and that it is worth the reading, the re-reading, and the +continuous appreciation of those who care for modern literature at its +best."--_The Boston Transcript._ + +"In 'The Mettle of the Pasture' Mr. Allen has reached the high-water +mark thus far of his genius as a novelist. The beauty of his literary +style, the picturesque quality of his description, the vitality, +fulness, and strength of his artistic powers never showed to better +advantage.... Its reader is fascinated by the picturesque descriptions, +the humor, the clear insight, and the absolute interest of his +creations."--_The Brooklyn Eagle._ + + * * * * * + +The Call of the Wild + +By JACK LONDON + +Author of "The Children of the Frost," etc., etc. + +Illustrated Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +All those who have read it believe that JACK LONDON'S new story, "The +Call of the Wild," will prove one of the half-dozen memorable books of +1903. This story takes hold of the universal things in human and animal +nature; it is one of those strong, thrilling, brilliant things which are +better worth reading the second time than the first. Entertaining +stories we have in plenty; but this is something more--it is a piece of +literature. At the same time it is an unforgettable picture of the whole +wild, thrilling, desperate, vigorous, primeval life of the Klondike +regions in the years after the gold fever set in. It ranks beside the +best things of its kind in English literature. + +The tale itself has for its hero a superb dog named Buck, a cross +between a St. Bernard and a Scotch shepherd. Buck is stolen from his +home in Southern California, where Judge Miller and his family have +petted him, taken to the Klondike, and put to work drawing sledges. +First he has to be broken in, to learn "the law of club and fang." His +splendid blood comes out through the suffering and abuse, the starvation +and the unremitting toil, the hardship and the fighting and the bitter +cold. He wins his way to the mastership of his team. He becomes the best +sledge dog in Alaska. And all the while there is coming out in him "the +dominant primordial beast." + +But meantime, all through the story, the interest is almost as much in +the human beings who own Buck, or who drive him, or who come in contact +with him or his masters in some way or other, as in the dog himself. He +is merely the central figure in an extraordinarily graphic and +impressive picture of life. + +In none of his previous stories has Mr. LONDON achieved so strong a grip +on his theme. In none of them has he allowed his theme so strongly to +grip him. He has increased greatly in his power to tell a story. The +first strong note in the book is the coming out of the dog's good blood +through infinite hardship; the last how he finally obeyed "the call of +the wild" after his last and best friend, Thornton, was killed by the +Indians. + +It has been very greatly praised during its serial run, Mr. MABIE +writing in _The Outlook_ of "its power and its unusual theme.... This +remarkable story, full of incident and of striking descriptions of life +and landscape in the far north, contains a deep truth which is embedded +in the narrative and is all the more effective because it is never +obtruded." + + * * * * * + +People of the Whirlpool + +From the Experience Book of a Commuter's Wife + +_By the Author of +"The Garden of a Commuter's Wife"_ + +With Eight Full-page Illustrations + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +"The book is in every way a worthy companion to its very popular +predecessor."--_The Churchman._ + +"Altogether the story is fascinating, holding the attention with its +charm of narrative and its pictures of real life."--_Grand Rapids +Herald._ + +"The whole book is delicious, with its wise and kindly humor, its just +perspections of the true values of things, its clever pen pictures of +people and customs, and its healthy optimism for the great world in +general."--_Philadelphia Telegraph._ + + * * * * * + +Anne Carmel + +By GWENDOLEN OVERTON + +Author of "The Heritage of Unrest" + +With Illustrations by ARTHUR I. KELLER + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +"A novel of uncommon beauty and depth ... in every way an unusual +book."--_Louisville Times._ + +"One of the few very important books of the year."--_The Sun_, New York. + +"Is so far above the general run of the fiction of to-day as to be +strongly attractive, just because of this contrast, but it is, for +itself, something to move heart and brain to quick action and deep +admiration."--_Nashville American._ + + * * * * * + +The Heart of Rome + +By F. MARION CRAWFORD + +Author of "Saracinesca," "In the Palace of the King," +"Cecilia," "Ave Roma Immortalis," etc. + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +This striking title is perfectly descriptive of the book. Mr. Crawford, +who has studied Rome in all its phases and has been writing novels and +serious books about it for twenty years, has undertaken to put "the +heart of Rome" into his latest novel. Many authors have undertaken to do +this, but in almost every case the result, however it may have been +praised for various features, has been adjudged in the end +unsatisfactory. The author of "Saracinesca" has here written his +strongest and best work; a novel in which, around an absorbing love +story, are described the manifold elements that go to make up the whole +of the Eternal City as it exists at the present time. It is said by +those who have read the story that it will stand as a picture of Roman +and Italian life without a peer. Mr. Crawford has been living in Italy +most of the year in order to be close to the atmosphere and the life of +the city which he has here depicted. + + * * * * * + +The Literary Sense + +By E. NESBIT + +Author of "The Red House," "The Would-Be-Goods," etc. + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +This is a collection of very clever and original short stories, by an +author whose work has attracted much favorable attention here and in +England. The stories deal with lovers' meetings, partings, +misunderstandings or reconciliations. They are little tragedies or +little comedies, and sometimes both. The situations are strong and +ingeniously conceived, and each tale has a turn or twist of its own. +There is throughout a quiet vein of humor and a light touch even where +the situation is strained. In a way the stories are held together, +because most or all of them have a bearing on the idea which is set +forth in the first story--the one that gives the book its title. In that +story the girl loses her lover because, instead of acting simply and +naturally, she tries to act as if she were in a book, to follow her +"literary sense"; in other words, she has something of the same +temperament that distinguished Mr. Barrie's "Sentimental Tommy." This +idea appears and reappears in the other stories, notably in that called +"Miss Eden's Baby," which in its way is a little masterpiece. + + * * * * * + +On the We-a Trail + +By CAROLINE BROWN + +Author of "Knights in Fustian" + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +This story incidentally portrays the vicissitudes and the lives of the +American pioneers in the "Great Wilderness," as the country west of the +Alleghanies was generally known. The capture and recapture of Fort +Sackville, at Vincennes on the Wabash, are important features among the +central incidents. + +The action begins in mid-wilderness and culminates with the fall of the +fort under the assault of George Rogers Clark. Here the lovers are +reunited after months of separation and adventures. They were first +parted by the savages, who murdered the heroine's entire family save +herself. Driven into the forest, she is taken captive by the Indians. +She makes her escape. Later she is taken to the fort by one of +Hamilton's _coureurs de bois_, and adopted into the family of the +commandant. The lover meantime wanders from Kaskaskia to Detroit in +pursuit of the tribe which has taken captive his sweetheart, and has +various adventures by the way, many of which take place on the famous +We-a Trail. The action of the story is practically confined to Indiana, +the author's native state; and it forms an important addition to the +increasing number of novels dealing with the early life of that region +of the country. + + * * * * * + +The Black Chanter + +and Other Highland Tales + +By NIMMO CHRISTIE + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +This is a remarkable group of stories by a new writer. They are all +Scotch, and deal with Scotland at a remote period--about the twelfth +century. All the tales except one--"The Wise Woman," which is the best +of all--deal with fighting, and the pipers appear in almost all. They +are stories rather for men than for women, because they deal with a +rough time in a direct way; but they are so clever that women whom +virility attracts will like them. The striking originality of these +stories augurs well for the author's future. The tales consist largely +in legends, traditions, and dramatic incidents connected with the old +life of Scottish clans. Each tale has at the end an unexpected turn or +quick bit of action, and these endings are almost invariably tragic. The +style is well suited to the character of the stories, which are wild, +weird, and queer. They have a true imaginative vein. + + * * * * * + +Blount of Breckenhow + +By BEULAH MARIE DIX + +Author of "The Making of Christopher Ferringham," "Soldier +Rigdale," and "Hugh Gwyeth" + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +Its scene is laid in England in the years 1642-45. It is not a +historical novel, nor a romance, nor an adventure story; it is the story +of a brave man and a noble woman as set forth in the letters of a +prosperous family of Yorkshire gentry. James Blount, the hero, comes by +his father's side of a race of decayed northern gentry, and by his +mother's side from the yeomanry. Entering the King's army as a private +trooper, he wins a commission; but he never wins social recognition from +his brother officers, and he is left much alone. He meets Arundel Carewe +and loves her. The moment when he is about to tell his love he learns +that she is betrothed to his captain, and only friend, Bevill +Rowlestone. Blount keeps silent till near the end of the story. +Meanwhile Arundel is married to Bevill, who is a delightful +seventeenth-century lover, but not wholly satisfactory as a husband. + +Arundel is in garrison with Bevill at a lonely village through the first +dreary winter of their married life. Bevill neglects what he has won, +but Blount in all honor is very tender and thoughtful of her. On the +night when Arundel's child is born, Bevill makes a gross error of +judgment and shifts a body of troops which exposes his whole position. +He entreats Blount, who is his subaltern, to shoulder the blame. For the +sake of Arundel and her child, Blount does so. The matter proves very +serious. Blount is tried by court-martial, publicly degraded, and kicked +out of the army. All trace of him is lost for some eighteen months. +Then, when Arundel and her child are in great danger in their besieged +country house, Blount, who is serving again as a private trooper, +appears and rescues her. The book does not teem with battle and +violence; only twice do the people in the story come within sound of the +guns. + + * * * * * + +McTodd + +By CUTCLIFFE HYNE + +Author of "Captain Kettle" and "Thompson's Progress" + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +Mr. Cutcliffe Hyne's "McTodd" enriches literature with a new and +fascinating figure. The author established himself with his "Captain +Kettle" books, and he has made his popularity considerably more sure +through his latest story, "Thompson's Progress." McTodd, the engineer, +was quite as popular a hero in the last Captain Kettle book as that +fiery little sailor, and Mr. Hyne now makes him the chief character in a +better story. The author's invention never flags, and the new story is +full of incidents and experiences of the liveliest and most fascinating +kind. Besides drawing a better character, the author has made his +experiences more like those of real people, and has constructed a story +which is well knit, forceful, and absorbing. He has outgrown the +crudities observable in his previous books, and it is expected that his +new creation will give him a much better place in literature and will +greatly strengthen his hold on the popular approval. + + +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + +66 Fifth Avenue, New York + + +Transcriber's note: + +A number of instances of 'Dic' being misspelt as 'Dick' have been +corrected. + +Printer's errors have been corrected, all other inconsistencies +are as in the original. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Forest Hearth: A Romance of Indiana +in the Thirties, by Charles Major + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOREST HEARTH: A ROMANCE *** + +***** This file should be named 29486-8.txt or 29486-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/8/29486/ + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Forest Hearth: A Romance of Indiana in the Thirties + +Author: Charles Major + +Release Date: July 22, 2009 [EBook #29486] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOREST HEARTH: A ROMANCE *** + + + + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<h1>A FOREST HEARTH</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/deco_001.png" width="200" height="72" alt="Publishers symbol" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 600px; height: 418px;"> +<a id="Frontispiece" name="Frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/frontispiece.png" width="600" height="418" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"He Produced A Small Gold Watch With The Word 'Rita' +Engraved Upon The Case."</span> +</div> + +<p><br /></p> + +<h1>A Forest Hearth</h1> + +<h2>A ROMANCE OF INDIANA +IN THE THIRTIES</h2> + +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h2>CHARLES MAJOR</h2> + +<h5>AUTHOR OF "DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL," "THE<br /> +BEARS OF BLUE RIVER," "WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS<br /> +IN FLOWER," ETC.</h5> + +<h4><i><span class="smcap">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CLYDE O. DeLAND</span></i></h4> + +<p><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/deco_001a.png" width="100" height="17" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h2>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd.</span></h3> + +<h3>1903</h3> + +<h4><i>All rights reserved</i></h4> + +<h5><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1903,</span><br /> + +<span class="smcap">By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.</span></h5> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<h5>Set up, electrotyped, and published October, 1903.</h5> + +<h6>Norwood Press<br /> + +J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.<br /> + +Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.</h6> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td align="right"></td> +<td align="left">CHAPTER</td> +<td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">I.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">On the Heart of the Hearth</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">II.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Bachelor Heart</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">III.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Sycamore Divan</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">IV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Debutante</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">V.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Under the Elm Canopy</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">VI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Fight by the River Side</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">VII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Trial</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Christmas Hearth Log</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">IX.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Dic Lends Money Gratis</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">X.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Tournament</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XI.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Kiss and a Duel</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Love Powder</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XIII.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Dimpler</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Wise Miss Tousy</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">XV.</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Christmas Gift</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td></tr> + +</table></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> + +<tr><td align="left"></td> +<td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"He produced a small gold watch with the word 'Rita' engraved<br /> +upon the case"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"She changed it many times"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"She flung at the worthy shepherd the opprobrious words, 'You<br /> +fool'"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"'I've come to get my kiss,' said Doug"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"Covering her face with her hands, she began to weep"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"'Kill him, Dic; kill him as you would a wolf'"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"Miss Tousy softly kissed her and said, ... 'There, don't cry,<br /> +sweet one'"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_315">315</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"'Here,' replied the girl"</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td></tr> + +</table></div> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>ON THE HEART OF THE HEARTH</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A Forest Hearth</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">On the Heart of the Hearth</span></h4> + + +<p>A strenuous sense of justice is the most disturbing of all virtues, and +those persons in whom it predominates are usually as disagreeable as +they are good. Any one who assumes the high plane of "justice to all, +and confusion to sinners," may easily gain a reputation for goodness +simply by doing nothing bad. Look wise and heavenward, frown severely +but regretfully upon others' faults, and the world will whisper, "Ah, +how good he is!" And you will be good—as the sinless, prickly pear. If +the virtues of omission constitute saintship, and from a study of the +calendar one might so conclude, seek your corona by the way of justice. +For myself, I would rather be a layman with a few active virtues and a +small sin or two, than a sternly just saint without a fault. Breed +virtue in others by giving them something to forgive. Conceive, if you +can, the unutterable horror of life in this world without a few blessed +human faults. He who sins not at all, cannot easily find reason to +forgive; and to forgive those who trespass against us, is one of the +sweetest benedictions of life. I have known many persons who built their +moral structure upon the single rock of justice; but they all bred +wretchedness among those who loved them, and made life harder because +they did not die young.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>One woman of that sort, I knew,—Mrs. Margarita Bays. To her face, or in +the presence of those who might repeat my words, I of course called her +"Mrs. Bays"; but when I felt safe in so doing, I called her the "Chief +Justice"—a title conferred by my friend, Billy Little. Later happenings +in her life caused Little to christen her "my Lady Jeffreys," a +sobriquet bestowed upon her because of the manner in which she treated +her daughter, whose name was also Margarita.</p> + +<p>The daughter, because she was as sweet as the wild rose, and as gentle +as the soft spring sun, received from her friends the affectionate +diminutive of Rita. And so I shall name her in this history.</p> + +<p>Had not Rita been so gentle, yielding, and submissive, or had her +father, Tom Bays,—husband to the Chief Justice,—been more combative +and less amenable to the corroding influences of henpeck, I doubt if +Madam Bays would ever have attained a dignity beyond that of "Associate +Justice." That strong sense of domineering virtue which belongs to the +truly just must be fed, and it waxes fat on an easy-going husband and a +loving, tender daughter.</p> + +<p>In the Bays home, the mother's righteous sense of justice and duty, +which applied itself relentlessly upon husband and daughter, became the +weakest sort of indulgence when dealing with the only son and heir. +Without being vicious, Tom, Jr., was what the negroes called "jes' clean +triflin'," and dominated his mother with an inherited club of inborn +selfishness. Before Tom's selfishness, Justice threw away her scales and +became maudlin sentiment.</p> + +<p>I have been intimately acquainted with the Bays family ever since they +came to Blue River settlement from North Carolina, and I am going to +tell you the story of the sweetest, gentlest nature God has ever given +me to know—Rita Bays. I warn you there will be no heroics in this +history, no palaces, no grand people—nothing but human<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> nature, the +forests, and a few very simple country folk indeed.</p> + +<p>Rita was a babe in arms when her father, her mother, and her +six-year-old brother Tom moved from North Carolina in two great +"schooner" wagons, and in the year '20 or '21 settled upon Blue River, +near the centre of a wilderness that had just been christened "Indiana."</p> + +<p>The father of Tom Bays had been a North Carolina planter of considerable +wealth and culture; but when the old gentleman died there were eight +sons and two daughters among whom his estate was to be divided, and some +of them had to choose between moving west and facing the terrors of +battle with nature in the wilderness, and remaining in North Carolina to +become "poor white trash." Tom Bays, Sr., had married Margarita, +daughter of a pompous North Carolinian, Judge Anselm Fisher. Whether he +was a real judge, or simply a "Kentucky judge," I cannot say; but he was +a man of good standing, and his daughter was not the woman to endure the +loss of caste at home. If compelled to step down from the social +position into which she had been born, the step must be taken among +strangers, that part at least of her humiliation might be avoided.</p> + +<p>With a heart full of sorrow and determination, Madam Bays, who even then +had begun to manifest rare genius for leadership, loaded two "schooners" +with her household goods, her husband, her son, and her daughter, and +started northwest with the laudable purpose of losing herself in the +wilderness. They carried with them their inheritance, a small bag of gold, +and with it they purchased from the government a quarter-section—one +hundred and sixty acres—of land, at five shillings per acre. The land +on Blue was as rich and fertile as any the world could furnish; but for +miles upon miles it was covered with black forests, almost impenetrable to +man, and was infested by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> wild beasts and Indians. Here madam and her +husband began their long battle with the hardest of foes—nature; and +that battle, the terrors of which no one can know who has not fought it, +doubtless did much to harden the small portion of human tenderness with +which God had originally endowed her. They built their log-cabin on the +east bank of Blue River, one mile north of the town of the same name. +The river was spoken of simply as Blue.</p> + +<p>Artistic beauty is not usually considered an attribute of log-cabins; +but I can testify to the beauty of many that stood upon the banks of +Blue,—among them the house of Bays. The main building consisted of two +ground-floor rooms, each with a front door and a half-story room above. +A clapboard-covered porch extended across the entire front of the house, +which faced westward toward Blue. Back of the main building was a +one-story kitchen, and adjoining each ground-floor room was a huge +chimney, built of small logs four to six inches in diameter. These +chimneys, thickly plastered on the inside with clay, were built with a +large opening at the top, and widened downward to the fireplace, which +was eight or ten feet square, and nearly as high as the low ceiling of +the room. The purpose of these generous dimensions was to prevent the +wooden chimney from burning. The fire, while the chimney was new, was +built in the centre of the enormous hearth that the flames might not +touch the walls, but after a time the heat burnt the clay to the +hardness of brick, and the fire was then built against the back wall. By +pointing up the cracks, and adding a coat of clay now and then, the +walls soon became entirely fireproof, and a fire might safely be kindled +that would defy Boreas in his bitterest zero mood. An open wood fire is +always cheering; so our humble folk of the wilderness, having little +else to cheer them during the long winter evenings, were mindful to be +prodigal in the matter of fuel, and often<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> burned a cord of wood between +candle-light and bedtime on one of their enormous hearths. A cord of +wood is better than a play for cheerfulness, and a six-foot back-log +will make more mirth than Dan Rice himself ever created. Economy did not +enter into the question, for wood was nature's chief weapon against her +enemies, the settlers; and the question was not how to save, but how to +burn it.</p> + +<p>To this place Rita first opened the eyes of her mind. The girl's +earliest memories were of the cozy log-cabin upon the banks of the +limpid, gurgling creek. Green in her memory, in each sense of the word, +was the soft blue-grass lawn, that sloped gently a hundred yards from +the cabin, built upon a little rise in the bottom land, down to the +water's edge. Often when she was a child, and I a man well toward middle +life, did I play with the enchanting little elf upon the blue-grass +lawn, and drink the waters of perennial youth at the fountain of her +sweet babyhood. Vividly I remember the white-skinned sycamores, the +gracefully drooping elms, and the sweet-scented honey-locust that grew +about the cabin and embowered it in leafy glory. Even at this long +distance of time, when June is abroad, if I catch the odor of locust +blossoms, my mind and heart travel back on the wings of a moment, and I +hear the buzzing of the wild bees, the song of the meadow-lark, the +whistle of bob-white, and the gurgling of the creek—all blended into +one sweet refrain like the mingling tones of a perfect orchestra by the +soft-voiced babble of my wee girl-baby friend. I close my eyes, and see +the house amid the hollyhocks and trees, a thin line of blue smoke +curling lazily from the kitchen chimney and floating away over the deep, +black forest to the north and east. I see the maples languidly turning +the white side of their leaves to catch the south wind's balmy breath, +and I see by my side a fate-charged, tiny tot, dabbling in the water, +mocking the songs of the birds, and ever turning her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> face, with its +great brown wistful eyes, to catch the breath of destiny and to hear the +sad dread hum of the future. But my old chum Billy Little was the +child's especial friend.</p> + +<p>In those good times there was another child, a boy, Diccon Bright, who +often came down from his cabin home a mile up river to play with Rita on +the blue-grass lawn in summer, or to sit with her on the hearth log in +winter. In cold weather the hearth log was kept on one side of the +hearth, well within the fireplace itself, ready for use when needed. It +gloried in three names, all of which were redolent of home. It was +called the "hearth log" because it was kept upon the hearth; the +"waiting log" because it was waiting to take the place of the log that +was burning, and the "ciphering log" because the children sat upon it in +the evening firelight to do their "ciphering"—a general term used to +designate any sort of preparation for the morrow's lesson. In those +times arithmetic was the chief study, and from it the acquisition of all +branches of knowledge took the name of ciphering.</p> + +<p>Diccon—where on earth his parents got the name, I cannot tell—was four +or five years older than Rita. He was a manly boy, and when my little +friend could hardly lisp his name she would run to him with the unerring +instinct of childhood and nestle in his arms or cling to his helpful +finger. The little fellow was so sturdy, strong, and brave, and his dark +gray eyes were so steadfast and true, that she feared no evil from him, +though ordinarily she was a timid child. She would sit by him on the +ciphering log during the long winter evenings, and the boy, the girl, +and the fire were the best of friends, and had glorious times together +on the heart of the cheery hearth. The north wind might blow, the snow +might snow, and the cold might freeze, Rita, Dic, and the fire cared not +a straw.</p> + +<p>"I want no better mirror, my little sweetheart," he would say, "than +your brown eyes; no prettier color than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> your rosy cheeks and glossy +black hair, and no truer friend than your loving little heart." And the +fire crackled its entire approval.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Dic," she would reply, laughing with delight, "if you really +want them, you may have them; they are all yours." And the fire smiled +rosily, beaming its benediction.</p> + +<p>"But what will your father and mother say and Tom?" asked Dic.</p> + +<p>"We'll not tell them," replied this tiny piece of Eve; and the fire +almost choked itself with spluttering laughter. So, with the fire as a +witness, the compact was made and remade many times, until she thought +she belonged to Dic and gloried in her little heart because of it.</p> + +<p>Diccon and Rita's brother, Tom, even during their early childhood, when +they were hardly half so tall as the guns they carried, were companion +knights in the great wars waged by the settlers against the wild beasts +of the forests, and many a bear, wolf, wildcat, and deer fell before the +prowess of small Sir Diccon la Valorous and little Sir Thomas de +Triflin'. Out of their slaughter grew friendship, and for many years Sir +Thomas was a frequent guest upon the ciphering log of Sir Diccon, and +Sir Diccon spent many winter evenings on the hearth at Castle Bays.</p> + +<p>As the long years of childhood passed, Dic began to visit the Bays home +more frequently than Tom visited the Brights'. I do not know whether +this change was owing to the increasing age of the boys, or—but Rita +was growing older and prettier every day, and you know that may have had +something to do with Dic's visits.</p> + +<p>Dic had another boy friend—an old boy, of thirty-five or more—whose +name was William Little. He was known generally as Billy Little, and it +pleased the little fellow to be so called, "Because," said he, "persons +give the diminutive to fools and those whom they love; and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> know I am +not a fool." The sweetest words in the German language are their home +diminutives. It is difficult to love a man whom one <i>must</i> call Thomas. +Tom, Jack, and Billy are the chaps who come near to us.</p> + +<p>Billy was an old bachelor and an Englishman. His family had intended him +for the church, and he was educated at Trinity with that end in view. +Although not an irreligious man, he had views on religion that were far +from orthodox.</p> + +<p>"I found it impossible," he once remarked, "to induce the church to +change its views, and equally impossible to change my own; so the church +and I, each being unreasonably stubborn, agreed to disagree, and I threw +over the whole affair, quarrelled with my family, was in turn thrown +over by them, and here I am, in the wilderness, very much pleased."</p> + +<p>He lived in the little town of Blue River, and was justice of the peace, +postmaster, storekeeper, and occasionally school-teacher. He was small +in stature, with a tendency to become rotund as he grew older. He took +pride in his dress and was as cleanly as an Englishman. He was +reasonably willing to do the duty that confronted him, and loved but +three forms of recreation,—to be with his two most intimate friends, +Rita and Dic, to wander in the trackless forests, and to play upon his +piano. His piano was his sweetheart, and often in the warm summer +evenings, when his neighbors were in bed, would the strains of his music +lull them to sleep, and float out into the surrounding forests, +awakening the whippoorwill to heart-rending cries of anguish that would +give a man the "blues" for a month. I believe many ignorant persons +thought that Billy was not exactly "right in the top," as they put it, +because he would often wander through the forests, night or day, singing +to himself, talking to the trees and birds, and clasping to his soul +fair nature in her virgin strength and sweetness. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> often communed +with himself after this fashion: "I am a fortunate man in the things I +love, for I have them to my heart's content. Rita and Dic are children. +I give them knowledge. They give me youth. I touch my piano. It fills my +soul with peace. If it gives me a discordant note, the fault is mine. I +go to the forest, and sweet Nature takes me in her arms and lulls me to +ecstasy."</p> + +<p>Billy Little and I had been college chums, and had emigrated on the same +ship. I studied law, entered the practice, married, and have a family. +While my wife and family did not mar the friendship between Little and +myself, it prevented frequency of intercourse, for a wife and family are +great absorbents. However, he and I remained friends, and from him I +have most of the facts constituting this story.</p> + +<p>This friend of Dic's was a great help to the boy intellectually, and at +fourteen or fifteen years of age, when other boys considered their +education complete if they could spell phthisis and Constantinople, our +hero was reading Virgil and Shakespeare, and was learning to think for +himself. The knowledge obtained from Billy Little the boy tried to +impart to Rita. Tom held learning and books to be effeminate and +wasteful of time; but Rita drank in Dic's teaching, with now and then a +helpful draught from Billy Little, and the result soon began to show +upon the girl.</p> + +<p>Thus it was that Dic often went to see Tom, but talked to Tom's sister. +Many an evening, long after Tom had unceremoniously climbed the rude +stairway to bed, would the brown-eyed maid, with her quaint, wistful +touch of womanhood, sit beside Dic on the ciphering log inside the +fireplace, listening to him read from one of Billy Little's books, +watching him trace continents, rivers, and mountains on a map, or +helping him to cipher a complicated problem in arithmetic. The girl by +no means understood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> all that Dic read, but she tried, and even though +she failed, she would clasp her hands and say, "Isn't it grand, Dic?" +And it was grand to her because Dic read it.</p> + +<p>Lamps were unknown to our simple folk, so the light of the fireplace was +all they had to read by. It was, therefore, no uncommon sight in those +early cabin homes to see the whole family sitting upon the broad hearth, +shading their eyes with their hands, while some one—frequently the +local school-teacher—sat upon the hearth log and read by the fire that +furnished both light and heat. This reading was frequently Dic's task in +the Bays home.</p> + +<p>One who has seen a large family thus gathered upon the spacious hearth +will easily understand the love for it that ages ago sprang up in the +hearts of men and crickets. At no place in all the earth, and at no time +in all its history, has the hearth done more in moulding human character +than it did in the wilderness on the north side of the lower Ohio when +the men who felled the forest and conquered nature offered their humble +devotions on its homely altar.</p> + +<p>So it came to pass that Dic and Rita grew up together on the heart of +the hearth; and what wonder that their own hearts were welded by the +warmth and light of its cheery god. Thus the boy grew to manhood and the +girl to maidenhood, then to young womanhood, at which time, of course, +her troubles began.</p> + +<p>Chief among the earlier troubles of our little maid was a growing +tenderness for Dic. Of that trouble she was not for many months aware. +She was unable to distinguish between the affection she had always given +him and the warming tenderness she was beginning to feel, save in her +disinclination to make it manifest. When with him she was under a +constraint as inexplicable to her as it was annoying. It brought grief +to her tender heart, since it led her into little acts of rudeness or +neglect, which in turn always led to tears. She often blamed Dic for the +altered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> condition, though it was all owing to the change in herself. +There was no change in him. He sought the girl's society as frankly as +when they were children, though at the time of which I write he had made +no effort to "keep company" with her. She, at fifteen, believing herself +to be a young lady, really wished for the advances she feared. Sukey +Yates, who was only fourteen, had "company" every Sunday evening, and +went to all the social frolics for miles around. Polly Kaster, not +sixteen, was soon to be married to Bantam Rhodes. Many young men had +looked longingly upon Rita, who was the most beautiful girl on Blue; but +the Chief Justice, with her daughter's hearty approval, drove all +suitors away. The girl was wholly satisfied with Dic, who was "less than +kin," but very much "more than kind." He came to see the family, herself +included; but when he went out to social functions, church socials, +corn-huskings, and dances he took Sukey Yates, or some other girl, and +upon such evenings our own little maiden went to bed dissatisfied with +the world at large, and herself in particular. Of course, she would not +have gone to dances, even with Dic. She had regard for the salvation of +her soul, and the Chief Justice, in whom the girl had unquestioning +faith, held dancing to be the devil's chief instrument of damnation. +Even the church socials were not suitable for young girls, as you will +agree if you read farther; and Mrs. Margarita, with a sense of propriety +inherited from better days, tried to hold her daughter aloof from the +country society, which entertained honest but questionable views on many +subjects.</p> + +<p>Dic paid his informal visit to the Bays household in the evenings, and +at the time of the girl's growing inclination she would gaze longingly +up the river watching for him; while the sun, regretful to leave the +land, wherein her hero dwelt, sank slowly westward to shine upon those +poor waste places that knew no Diccon. When she would see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> him coming +she would run away for fear of herself, and seek her room in the loft, +where she would scrub her face and hands in a hopeless effort to remove +the sun-brown. Then she would scan her face in a mirror, for which Dic +had paid two beautiful bearskins, hoping to convince herself that she +was not altogether hideous.</p> + +<p>"If I could only be half as pretty as Sukey Yates," she often thought, +little dreaming that Sukey, although a very pretty girl, was plain +compared with her own winsome self.</p> + +<p>After the scrubbing she would take from a little box the solitary piece +of grandeur she possessed,—a ribbon of fiery red,—and with this around +her neck or woven through the waving floods of her black hair, she felt +she was bedecked like a veritable queen of hearts. But the ribbon could +not remove all doubts of herself, and with tears ready to start from her +eyes she would stamp her foot and cry out: "I hate myself. I am an ugly +fool." Then she would slowly climb down the rude stairway, and, as we +humble folk would say, "take out her spite" against herself on poor Dic. +She was not rude to him, but, despite her inclination, she failed to +repay his friendliness in kind as of yore.</p> + +<p>Tom took great pleasure in teasing her, and chuckled with delight when +his indulgent mother would tell her visiting friends that he was a great +tease.</p> + +<p>One evening when Rita had encountered more trouble than usual with the +sun-brown, and was more than ever before convinced that she was a fright +and a fool, she went downstairs, wearing her ribbon, to greet Dic, who +was sitting on the porch with father, mother, and Tom. When she emerged +from the front door, Tom, the teaser, said:—</p> + +<p>"Oh, just look at her! She's put on her ribbon for Dic." Then, turning +to Dic, "She run to her room and spruced up when she saw you coming."</p> + +<p>Dic laughed because it pleased him to think, at least to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> hope, that Tom +had spoken the truth. Poor Rita in the midst of her confusion +misunderstood Dic's laughter; and, smarting from the truth of Tom's +words, quickly retorted:—</p> + +<p>"You're a fool to say such a thing, and if—if—if—Mr.—Mr. Bright +believes it, he is as great a fool as you."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bright!" cried de Triflin'. "My, but she's getting stylish!"</p> + +<p>Rita looked at Dic after she spoke, and the pain he felt was so easily +discernible on his face that she would have given anything, even the +ribbon, to have had her words back, or to have been able to cry out, "I +didn't mean it, Dic; I didn't mean it."</p> + +<p>But the words she had spoken would not come back, and those she wanted +to speak would not come forward, so tears came instead, and she ran to +her loft, to do penance in sobs greatly disproportionate to her sin.</p> + +<p>Soon Dic left, and as he started up the forest path she tried by gazing +at him from her window to make him know the remorse she felt. She wanted +to call to him, but she dared not; then she thought to escape unseen +from the house and run after him. But darkness was rapidly falling, and +she feared the black, terrible forest.</p> + +<p>We talk a great deal about the real things of after life; but the real +things of life, the keen joys and the keenest pains, come to a man +before his first vote, and to a woman before the days of her mature +womanhood.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE BACHELOR HEART</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Bachelor Heart</span></h4> + + +<p>Rita's first great pain kept her sleepless through many hours. She +resolved that when Dic should come again she would throw off the +restraint that so hurt and provoked her, and would show him, at whatever +cost, that she had not intended her hard words for him.</p> + +<p>The next day seemed an age. She sought all kinds of work to make the +time pass quickly. Churning, usually irksome, was a luxury. She swept +every nook and corner of the house, and longed to sweep the whole farm.</p> + +<p>That evening she did not wait till Dic was in sight to put on her +ribbon. She changed it many times from her throat to her hair and back +again, long before the sun had even thought of going down.</p> + +<p>Her new attitude toward Dic had at least one good effect: it took from +her the irritation she had so often felt against herself. Losing part of +her self-consciousness in the whirl of a new, strong motive, wrought a +great change, not only in her appearance, but also in her way of looking +at things—herself included. She was almost satisfied with the image her +mirror reflected. She might well have been entirely satisfied. There was +neither guile nor vanity in the girl's heart, nor a trace of deceit in +her face; only gentleness, truth, and beauty. She had not hitherto given +much thought to her face; but with the change in her way of seeing Dic, +her eyes were opened to the value of personal beauty. Then she began to +wonder. Regret for her hard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> words to Dic deepened her longing for +beauty, in the hope that she might be admired by him and more easily +forgiven. Billy Little, who had seen much of the world, once said that +there was a gentleness and beauty about Rita at this time which he +believed no other woman ever possessed. She was child and woman then, +and that combination is hard to beat, even in a plain girl. Poor old +Billy Little! He was more than thirty years her senior, but I believe +there is no period in the life of a bachelor, however case-hardened he +may be, when his heart is entirely safe from the enemy. That evening +Rita sat on the porch watching for Dic. But the sun and her heart went +down, and Dic did not come.</p> + +<p>The plaintive rain cry of a whippoorwill from the branches of a dead +tree across the river, and the whispering "peep, peep, peep," of the +sleepy robins in the foliage near the house, helped to deepen her +feeling of disappointment, and she was thoroughly miserable. She tried +to peer through the gloaming, and feared her father and mother would +mark her troubled eagerness and guess its cause. But her dread of their +comments was neutralized by the fear that Dic would not come.</p> + +<p>Opportunity is the touchstone of fate, save with women. With them it is +fate itself. Had Dic appeared late that evening, there would have been a +demonstration on Rita's part, regardless of who might have seen, and the +young man would have discovered an interesting truth. Rita, deeply +troubled, discovered it for herself, and thought surely it was plain +enough for every one else to see.</p> + +<p>When darkness had fallen, she became reckless of concealment, and walked +a short way up the river in the hope of meeting Dic. The hooting of an +owl frightened her, but she did not retreat till she heard the howling +of a wolf. Then she ran home at full speed and went to bed full of the +most healthful suffering a heart can know—that which it feels because +of the pain it has given another.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 413px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/fig_001.png" width="413" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"She Changed It Many Times."</span> +</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p>Thus Dic missed both opportunity and demonstration. The next evening he +missed another opportunity, and by the morning of the third day our +little girl, blushing at the thought, determined to write to him and ask +his forgiveness. There was one serious obstacle to writing: she had +neither paper nor ink, nor money with which to buy them. Hitherto she +had found little use for money, but now the need was urgent. Tom always +had money, and she thought of begging a few pennies from him. No! Tom +would laugh, and refuse. If she should ask her mother, a string of +questions would ensue, with "No" for a snapper. Her father would +probably give her money, if she asked for it; but her mother would ask +questions later. She would ride to town, one mile south on Blue, and ask +credit of her old friend, Billy Little, to the extent of a sheet of +paper and a small pot of ink. For a pen she would catch a goose, pluck a +quill, and ask Billy to cut it. Billy could cut the best pen of any one +on Blue.</p> + +<p>Dinner over, she caught the goose after an exciting chase, plucked the +quill, saddled her horse, and was slipping away from the back yard when +her mother's voice halted her.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Margarita.</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm—going—going to see Sukey Yates," answered the girl.</p> + +<p>She had not intended going to Sukey's, but after her mother's peremptory +demand for information, she formed the <i>ex post facto</i> resolution to do +so, that her answer might not be a lie.</p> + +<p>"Now, what on earth do you want there?" asked the Chief Justice.</p> + +<p>"I—I only want to sit awhile with her," answered Rita. "May I go? The +work is all done."</p> + +<p>"No, you shan't go," responded the kind old lady. You see, one of the +maxims of this class of good persons is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> to avoid as many small +pleasures as possible—in others. That they apply the rule to +themselves, doesn't help to make it endurable.</p> + +<p>Rita—with whom to hear was to obey—sprang from her horse; but just +then her father came upon the scene. His soft words and soothing +suggestions mollified Justice, and Rita started forth upon her visit to +Sukey. She had told her mother she was going to see Sukey Yates; and +when she thought upon the situation, she became convinced that her <i>ex +post facto</i> resolution, even though honestly acted upon, would not avail +her in avoiding a lie, unless it were carried out to the letter and in +the spirit. There was not a lie in this honest girl—not a fractional +part of a lie—from her toes to her head. She went straight to see +Sukey, and did not go to town, though she might easily have done so. She +did not fear discovery. She feared the act of secret disobedience, and +above all she dreaded the lie. A strong motive might induce her to +disobey, but the disobedience in that case would be open. She would go +to Sukey's to-day. To-morrow she would go to town in open rebellion, if +need be. The thought of rebellion caused her to tremble; but let the +powers at home also tremble. Like many of us, she was brave for +to-morrow's battle, since to-morrow never comes.</p> + +<p>Rita was not in the humor to listen to Sukey's good-natured prattle, so +her visit was brief, and she soon rode home, her heart full of trouble +and rebellion. But the reward for virtue, which frequently fails to make +its appearance, waited upon our heroine. When she was about to dismount +at the home gate, her father called to her:—</p> + +<p>"While you're on your horse, Rita, you might ride to town and ask Billy +Little if there's a letter. The mail came in three days ago."</p> + +<p>The monster, Rebellion, at once disappeared, and the girl, +conscience-smitten, resolved never, never to entertain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> him again. She +rode down the river path through the forest, happy after many days of +wretchedness.</p> + +<p>Billy Little's store building consisted of two log-built rooms. The long +front room was occupied by the store and post-office. The back room, as +Billy said, was occupied by his piano and himself. When he saw Rita, +clothed in dainty calico and smiles, gallop up to the hitching-post, his +heart was filled with joy, his face beamed with pleasure, and his scalp +was suffused by a rosy hue. Billy's smooth-shaven face was pale, the +blood never mounting to his cheeks, so he made amends as best he could +and blushed with the top of his head.</p> + +<p>"Good evening to you, Rita," he said, as he lifted her to the ground and +hitched her horse. "I am delighted to see you. You come like the rosy +sun after a rainy day."</p> + +<p>"The sun doesn't come after the day, Billy Little," retorted the +laughing girl. "You probably mean the pale moon, or a poor dim little +star."</p> + +<p>"I know what I mean," answered the little old fellow in tones of mock +indignation, "and I'll not allow a chit of a girl to correct my +astronomy. I'm your schoolmaster, and if I say the sun comes after the +day, why after the day it comes. Now, there!" he continued, as they +entered the store. "Turn your face to the wall and do penance. Such +insolence!"</p> + +<p>The girl faced the wall, and after a moment she looked laughingly over +her shoulder at him. "If you'll let me turn around, I'll admit that the +sun comes at midnight, if you say it does, Billy Little."</p> + +<p>"Midnight it is," said Billy, sternly. "Take your seat."</p> + +<p>She ran laughing to Billy, and clasping his arm affectionately, said +with a touch of seriousness:—</p> + +<p>"It comes whenever you say it does, Billy Little. I'd believe you before +I'd believe myself."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Poor old bachelor heart! Look to your breastworks; the enemy is at hand.</p> + +<p>"Now I've noticed," said cynical Billy, "that whenever the feminine +heart wants something, it grows tender. What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I want a letter, Billy Little. Father sent me down to fetch it, if +there is one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there's one here," he answered, going back of the glass-covered +pigeon-holes. "There's one here from Indianapolis. It's from your Uncle +Jim Fisher. I suppose he's after your father again to sell his farm and +invest the proceeds in the Indianapolis store. Precious fool he'll be if +he does."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, he would not be a fool," retorted the girl. "I'm just wild for +father to move to Indianapolis. I don't want to grow up in the country +like a ragweed or mullein stalk, and I—" ("Like a sweetbrier or a +golden-rod," interrupted Billy) "and I don't want you to advise him not +to go," she continued, unmindful of Billy's flowers of poesy.</p> + +<p>"Well, here's the letter. Do you want anything else?"</p> + +<p>"N-o-o-no."</p> + +<p>"Then, for once, I've found a disinterested female in a coaxing mood," +replied this modern Diogenes. He came from behind the counter, +pretending to believe her, and started toward the door.</p> + +<p>"How's Dic?" he asked. "I haven't seen him for a fortnight. I've been +wondering what has become of him." The girl's face turned red—painfully +so to Billy—as she replied:—</p> + +<p>"I—I haven't seen him either for—for a very long time—three days." +She stopped talking and Billy remained silent. After a long pause she +spoke up briskly, as if she had just remembered something.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I almost forgot—there <i>is</i> something I want, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>—and after all, +you're right. I want—I want—won't you—will you—I say, Billy Little, +won't you let me have a sheet of writing paper and a pot of ink, and +won't you cut this pen for me?"</p> + +<p>Billy took the quill and turned to go behind the counter. The girl was +dancing nervously on her toes. "But say, Billy Little, I can't pay you +for them now. Will—will—you trust me?"</p> + +<p>Billy did not reply, but went to the letter-paper box.</p> + +<p>"You had better take more than one sheet, Rita," he said softly. "If +you're going to write a love-letter to Dic, you will be sure to spoil +the first sheet, perhaps the second and third."</p> + +<p>Billy's head blushed vividly after he had spoken, for his remark was a +prying one. The girl had no thought of writing a love-letter, and she +resented the insinuation. She was annoyed because she had betrayed her +purpose in buying the paper. But she loved Billy Little too dearly to +show her resentment, and remained silent. The girl, Billy, and Dic +differing as much as it is possible for three persons to differ, save in +their common love for books and truth, had been friends ever since her +babyhood, and Billy was the only person to whom she could easily lay +bare her heart. Upon second thought she concluded to tell him her +trouble.</p> + +<p>"It was this way, Billy Little," she began, and after stumbling over +many words, she made a good start, and the little story of her troubles +fell from her lips like crystal water from a babbling spring.</p> + +<p>After her story was finished—and she found great relief in the +telling—Billy said:—</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll trust you. I'd trust you for the whole store if you +wanted to buy it. I'd trust you with my soul," he added after a pause. +"There's not a false drop of blood in your veins."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, Billy Little," she answered, as she took his hand caressingly for +an instant, and her eyes, with their wonderful capacity for expression, +said the rest.</p> + +<p>"So, you see, I <i>do</i> want to write a letter to Dic," she said, dropping +his hand; "but it is not to be a love-letter. I could not write one if I +wished. I was very wicked. Oh, Billy Little, I honestly think, at times, +I'm the worst girl that ever lived. Something terrible will happen to me +for my wickedness, I'm sure. Mother says it will."</p> + +<p>"Yes, something terrible—terrible, I'm sure," returned Billy, musingly.</p> + +<p>"And I want to apologize to him," she continued, "and tell him I didn't +mean it. Isn't it right that I should?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—yes," answered Billy, starting out of his revery. "Of course, +yes—Maxwelton's braes are bonny—um—um—um—um—um—yes, oh yes."</p> + +<p>When vexed, pleased, or puzzled, Billy was apt to hum the opening line +of "Annie Laurie," though the first four words were all that received +the honor of distinct articulation. The remainder of the stanza he +allowed to die away under his breath. Rita was of course familiar with +the habit, but this time she could not tell which motive had prompted +the musical outburst. Billy himself couldn't have told, but perhaps the +bachelor heart was at the bottom of it.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Billy Little, for the paper," said Rita. "I'll pay you with +the first money I get." Billy silently helped her to mount her horse. +She smiled, "Good-by," and he walked slowly back to the store muttering +to himself: "Billy Little, Billy Little, your breastworks are weak, and +you are a—Maxwelton's braes—um—um—um—um.—Ah, good evening, Mrs. +Carson. Something I can do for you this evening? Sugar? Ah, yes, plenty. +Best in town. Best shipment I ever had," and Billy was once more a +merchant.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Rita reached home supper was ready, and after the supper work was +finished it was too dark to write; so the letter was postponed a day, +and she took her place on the porch, hoping that Dic would come and that +the letter might be postponed indefinitely. But he did not come. Next +morning churning had again become loathsome, sweeping was hard work, and +dinner was a barbarous institution. Rita had no appetite, and to +sympathize with those who are hungry one must be hungry.</p> + +<p>Innumerable very long minutes had woven themselves into mammoth hours +when Rita, having no table in her room, found herself lying on the floor +writing her momentous letter. It was not to be a love-letter; simply an +appeal for forgiveness to a friend whom she had wantonly injured.</p> + +<p>"Dear old Billy Little," she said to herself, when she opened the +package. "What pretty paper—and he has given me six sheets in place of +one—and a little pot of ink—and a sand-box! I wonder if the quill is a +good one! Ah, two—three quills! Dear old Billy Little! Here is enough +paper to last me for years." In that respect she was mistaken. She +experienced difficulty with effort number one, but finished the letter +and read it aloud; found it wholly unsatisfactory, and destroyed it. She +used greater care with the next, but upon reading it over she found she +had said too much of what she wished to leave unsaid, and too little of +what she wanted to say. She destroyed number two with great haste and +some irritation, for it was almost a love-letter. The same fate befell +numbers three, four, and five. After all, Billy's liberal supply of +paper would not last for years. If it proved sufficient for one day, she +would be satisfied. Number six, right or wrong, must go to Dic, so she +wrote simply and briefly what was in her heart.<br /><br /></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Friend Dic:</span> My words were not intended for you. I was angry +with Tom, as I had good reason to be, though he spoke the truth. I +did put on my ribbon because I saw you coming, and I have cried +every night since then because of what I said to you, and because +you do not come to let me tell you how sorry I am. You should have +given me a chance. I would have given you one.</p> + +<p class="citation"><span class="smcap">Rita.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>It was a sweet, straightforward letter, half-womanly, half-childish, and +she had no cause to be ashamed of it; but she feared it was bold, and +tears came to her eyes when she read it, because there were no more +sheets of paper, and modest or bold it must go to Dic.</p> + +<p>Having written the letter, she had no means of sending it; but she had +entered upon the venture, and was determined to carry it through. Mrs. +Bays and her husband had driven to town, and there was no need for <i>ex +post facto</i> resolutions. When the letter had been properly directed and +duly sealed, the girl saddled her horse and started away on another +journey to Sukey Yates. This time, however, she went somewhat out of her +way, riding up the river path through the forest to Dic Bright's home. +When she reached the barnyard gate Dic was hitching the horses to the +"big wagon." He came at Rita's call, overjoyed at the sight of her. He +knew she had come to ask forgiveness. For many months past he had tried +not to see that she was unkind to him, but her words on the porch had +convinced him, and he saw that her coldness had been intentional. Of +course he did not know the cause of her altered demeanor, and had +regretfully put it down to an altered sentiment on her part. But when he +saw her at the barnyard gate, he was again in the dark as to her motive.</p> + +<p>When Dic came up to her she handed him the letter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> over the gate, +saying: "Read it alone. Let no one see it."</p> + +<p>Dic had only time to say, "Thank you," when the girl struck her horse +and galloped down the forest path, bound for Sukey. When she had passed +out of sight among the trees, Dic went down the river to a secluded +spot, known as "The Stepoff," where he could read the letter without +fear of detection. He had long suspected that his love for the girl was +not altogether brotherly, and his recent trouble with her had +crystallized that suspicion into certainty. But he saw nothing back of +the letter but friendship and contrition. The girl's love was so great a +treasure that he dared not even hope for it, and was more than satisfied +with the Platonic affection so plainly set forth in her epistle. We who +have looked into Rita's heart know of a thing or two that does not +resemble Platonism; but the girl herself did not fully know what she +felt, and Dic was sure she could not, under any circumstances, feel as +he did. His mistake grew partly out of his lack of knowledge that +woman's flesh and blood is of exactly the same quality that covers the +bones and flows in the veins of man, and—well, Rita was Rita, and, in +Dic's opinion, no other human being was ever of the quality of her +flesh, or cast in the mould of her nature. The letter told him that he +still held her warm, tender love as a friend. He was thankful for that, +and would neither ask nor expect anything more.</p> + +<p>If upon Rita's former visit to Sukey she had been too sad to enjoy the +vivacious little maiden, upon this occasion she was too happy. She sat +listening patiently to her chat, without hearing much of it, until Sukey +said:—</p> + +<p>"Dic was over to see me last night. I think he's so handsome, don't +you?"</p> + +<p>Rita was so startled that she did not think anything at the moment, and +Sukey presently asked:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Don't you think he has a fine head? and his eyes are glorious. The gray +is so dark, and they look right at you."</p> + +<p>Rita, compelled to answer, said, "I think he is—is all right—strong."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, he is strong," responded Sukey. "When he takes hold of you, you +just feel like he could crush you. Oh, it's delicious—it's +thrilling—when you feel that a man could just tear you to pieces if he +wanted to."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Rita; "I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Oh, just because," replied Sukey, shrugging her shoulders and laughing +softly, her red lips parted, her little teeth glistening like wet ivory, +and the dimples twinkling mischievously.</p> + +<p>"Just because" explained nothing to Rita, but something in Sukey's +laughter and manner aroused undefined and disagreeable suspicions, so +she said:—</p> + +<p>"Well, Sukey, I must be going home."</p> + +<p>"Why, you just came," returned Sukey, still laughing softly. She had +shot her arrow intentionally and had seen it strike the target's centre. +Sukey was younger than Rita, but she knew many times a thing or two; +while poor Rita's knowledge of those mystic numbers was represented by +the figure O.</p> + +<p>Why should Dic "take hold" of any one, thought Rita, while riding home, +and above all, why should he take hold of Sukey? Sukey was pretty, and +Sukey's prettiness and Dic's "taking hold" seemed to be related in some +mysterious manner. She who saw others through the clear lens of her own +conscience did not doubt Dic and Sukey, but notwithstanding her +trustfulness, a dim suspicion passed through her mind that something +might be wrong if Dic had really "taken hold" of Sukey. Where the evil +was, she could not determine; and to connect the straightforward, manly +fellow with anything dishonorable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> or wicked was impossible to her. So +she dismissed the subject, and it left no trace upon her mind save a +slight irritation against Sukey.</p> + +<p>Rita felt sure that Dic would come to see Tom that evening, and the red +ribbon was in evidence soon after supper. Dic did come, and there was at +least one happy girl on Blue.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE SYCAMORE DIVAN</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Sycamore Divan</span></h4> + + +<p>A virgin love in the heart of a young girl is like an effervescent +chemical: it may withstand a great shock, but a single drop of an +apparently harmless liquid may cause it to evaporate. This risk Dic took +when he went that evening to see Tom; and the fact that Rita had written +her letter, of which she had such grave misgivings, together with the +words of Sukey Yates, made his risk doubly great. Poor Dic needed a +thorough knowledge of chemistry. He did not know that he possessed it, +but he was a pure-minded, manly man, and the knowledge was innate with +him.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Rita," said Dic, when, after many efforts, she came out +upon the porch where he was sitting with her father, her mother, and +Tom.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," answered Rita, confusedly, and her mistake as to the +time of day added to her confusion.</p> + +<p>"Good morning!" cried Tom. "It's evening. My! but she's confused because +you're here, Dic."</p> + +<p>Tom was possessed of a simian acuteness that had led him to discover +poor Rita's secret before she herself was fully aware of its existence. +She, however, was rapidly making the interesting discovery, and feared +that between the ribbon, the letter, and Tom's amiable jokes, Dic would +discover it and presume upon the fact. From the mingling of these doubts +and fears grew a feeling of resentment against Dic—a conviction before +the fact. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> wished him to know her regard for him, but she did not +want him to learn it from any act of hers. She desired him to wrest it +from her by main force, and as little awkwardness as a man may use. Had +Dic by the smallest word or act shown a disposition to profit by what +Rita feared had been excessive frankness in her letter, or had he, in +any degree, assumed the attitude of a confident lover, such word or act +would have furnished the needful chemical drop, and Dic's interests +would have suffered. His safety at this time lay in ignorance. He did +not suspect that Rita loved him, and there was no change in his open +friendly demeanor. He was so easy, frank, and happy that evening that +the girl soon began to feel that nothing unusual had happened, and that, +after all, the letter was not bold, but perfectly right, and quite +proper in all respects. Unconsciously to her Dic received the credit for +her eased conscience, and she was grateful to him. She was more +comfortable, and the evening seemed more like old times than for many +months before.</p> + +<p>Soon after Dic's arrival, Tom rode over to see Sukey Yates. As the +hollyhock to the bees, so was Sukey to the country beaux—a conspicuous, +inviting, easily reached little reservoir of very sweet honey. Later, +Mr. and Mrs. Bays drove to town, leaving Dic and Rita to themselves, +much to the girl's alarm, though she and Dic had been alone together +many times before. Thus Dic had further opportunity to make a mistake; +but he did not mention the letter, and the girl's confidence came slowly +back to her.</p> + +<p>The evening was balmy, and after a time Dic and Rita walked to the crest +of the little slope that fell gently ten or fifteen feet to the water's +edge. A sycamore log answered the purpose of a divan, and a great +drooping elm furnished a royal canopy. A half-moon hung in the sky, +whitening a few small clouds that seemed to be painted on the blue-black +dome. The air, though not oppressive, was warm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> enough to make all +nature languorous, and the soft breath of the south wind was almost +narcotic in its power to soothe. A great forest is never still; even its +silence has a note of its own. The trees seem to whisper to each other +in the rustling of their leaves. The birds, awakened by the wind or by +the breaking of a twig, speak to their neighbors. The peevish catbird +and the blue jay grumble, while the thrush, the dove, and the redbird +peep caressingly to their mates, and again fall asleep with gurgles of +contentment in their throats.</p> + +<p>Rita and Dic sat by the river's edge for many minutes in silence. The +ever wakeful whippoorwill piped his doleful cry from a tree across the +water, an owl hooted from the blackness of the forest beyond the house, +and the turtle-doves cooed plaintively to each other in their +far-reaching, mournful tones, giving a minor note to the nocturnal +concert. Now and then a fish sprang from the water and fell back with a +splash, and the water itself kept up a soft babble like the notes of a +living flute.</p> + +<p>Certainly the time was ripe for a mistake, but Dic did not make one. A +woman's favor comes in waves like the flowing of the sea; and a wise +man, if he fails to catch one flood, will wait for another. Dic was +unconsciously wise, for Rita's favor was at its ebb when she walked down +to the river bank. Ebb tide was indicated by the fact that she sat as +far as possible from him on the log. The first evidence of a returning +flood-tide would be an unconscious movement on her part toward him. +Should the movement come from him there might be no flood-tide.</p> + +<p>During the first half-hour Dic did most of the talking, but he spoke +only of a book he had borrowed from Billy Little. With man's usual +tendency to talk a subject threadbare, he clung to the one topic. A few +months prior to that time his observations on the book would have +interested the girl; but recently two or three unusual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> events had +touched her life, and her dread that Dic would speak of them, was +rapidly growing into a fear that he would not. By the end of that first +half-hour, her feminine vivacity monopolized the conversation with an +ostentatious display of trivial details on small subjects, and she began +to move toward his end of the log. Still Dic kept his place, all +unconscious of his wisdom.</p> + +<p>Geese seemed to be Rita's favorite topic. Most women are clever at +periphrasis, and will go a long way around to reach a desired topic, if +for any reason they do not wish to approach it directly. The topics Rita +wished to reach, as she edged toward Dic on the log and talked about +geese, were her unkind words and her very kind letter. She wished to +explain that her words were not meant to be unkind, and that the letter +was not meant to be kind, and thought to reach the desired topics by the +way of geese.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember, Dic," she asked, "a long time ago, when Tom and I and +the Yates children spent the afternoon at your house? We were sitting +near the river, as we are sitting now, and a gray wolf ran down from the +opposite bank and caught a gander?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember it as if it were yesterday," replied Dic.</p> + +<p>"Geese are such fools when they are frightened," continued Rita, +clinging to her subject.</p> + +<p>"So are people," answered Dic. "We are all foolish when frightened. The +other day the barn door slammed to with a crash, and I was so frightened +I tried to put the collar in the horse's mouth." Rita laughed, and Dic +continued, "Once I was in the woods hunting, and a bear rose up—"</p> + +<p>"But geese are worse than anybody when disturbed," interrupted Rita, +"worse even than you when the barn door slams. The other day I wanted to +catch a goose to get a—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They are not worse than a lot of girls at gabbling," interrupted Dic, +ungallantly retaliating for Rita's humorous thrust.</p> + +<p>"They are not half so dull as a lot of men," she replied, tossing her +head. "When men get together they hum and hum about politics and crops, +till it makes one almost wish there were no government or crops. But +geese are—the other day I wanted to catch one to get a—"</p> + +<p>"All men don't hum and hum, as you say," returned Dic. "There's Billy +Little—you don't think he hums, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered the girl; "Billy Little always says something when he +talks, but he's always talking. I will put him against any man in the +world for a talking match. But the other day I wanted to catch a goose +to get a quill, and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that reminds me," broke in Dic, "my Uncle Joe Bright is coming to +visit us soon. Talk about talkers! He is a Seventh Day Adventist +preacher, and his conversation—no, I'll say his talk, for that's all it +is—reminds me of time."</p> + +<p>"How is that?" queried Rita.</p> + +<p>"It's made up of small particles, goes on forever, and is all seconds. +He says nothing first hand. His talk is all borrowed."</p> + +<p>Rita laughed and tried again. "Well, I wanted to catch—"</p> + +<p>"You just spoke of a talking match," said Dic. "I have an idea. Let us +bring Billy Little and my uncle together for a talking match."</p> + +<p>"Very well," replied Rita, laughing heartily. "I'll stake my money on +Billy Little. But I was saying, the other day I—"</p> + +<p>"I'll put mine on Uncle Joe," cried Dic. "Billy Little is a 'still Bill' +compared with him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rita was provoked, and I think with good reason; but after a pause she +concluded to try once more.</p> + +<p>"The other day I wanted a quill for a pen, and when I tried to catch a +goose I thought their noise would alarm the whole settlement."</p> + +<p>"Geese awakened Rome," said Dic. "If they should awaken Blue River, it, +also, might become famous. The geese episode is the best known fact +concerning the Eternal City—unless perhaps it is her howling."</p> + +<p>"Rome had a right to howl," said Rita, anxious to show that she +remembered his teaching. "She was founded by the children of a wolf."</p> + +<p>Dic was pleased and laughingly replied: "That ponderous historical +epigram is good enough to have come from Billy Little himself. When you +learn a fact, it immediately grows luminous."</p> + +<p>The girl looked quickly up to satisfy herself that he was in earnest. +Being satisfied, she moved an inch or two nearer him on the log, and +began again:—</p> + +<p>"I wanted to catch the goose—" but she stopped and concluded to try the +Billy Little road. "Dear old Billy Little," she said, "isn't he good? +The other day he said he'd trust me for the whole store, if I wanted to +buy it. I had no money and I wanted to buy—"</p> + +<p>"Why should he not trust you for all you would buy?" asked Dic. "He +knows he would get his money."</p> + +<p>The Billy Little route also seemed hilly. She concluded to try another, +and again made a slight movement toward Dic on the log.</p> + +<p>"I went from your house this afternoon over to Sukey's." She looked +stealthily at Dic, but he did not flinch. After a pause she continued, +with a great show of carelessness and indifference, though this time she +moved away from him as she spoke. "She said you had been over to see her +last night." And to show that she was not at all in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>terested in his +reply, she hummed the air of a song and carefully scrutinized a star +that was coming dangerously close to the moon.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I went over to borrow their adze. Ours is broken," returned Dic.</p> + +<p>The song ceased. Star and moon might collide for all the singer cared. +She was once again interested in things terrestrial.</p> + +<p>"Now, Dic," she cried, again moving toward him and unduly emphasizing +the fact that she was merely teasing (she talked to tease, but listened +to learn), "now, Dic, you know the adze was only an excuse. You went to +see Sukey. You know you did. Why didn't you borrow Kaster's adze? They +live much nearer your house." She thought she had him in a trap, and +laughed as if she were delighted.</p> + +<p>"I went to Kaster's first. They had none."</p> + +<p>The girl concluded she was on the wrong road. But the side road had +suddenly become interesting, and she determined to travel it a short +way. Silence ensued on Dic's part, and travel on the side road became +slow. Rita was beginning to want to gallop. If she continued on the side +road, she feared her motive might grow to look more like a desire to +learn than a desire to tease; but she summoned her boldness, and with a +laugh that was intended to be merry, said:—</p> + +<p>"Dic, you know you went to see Sukey, and that you spent the evening +with her."</p> + +<p>"Did she say I did?" he asked, turning sharply upon her.</p> + +<p>"Well—" replied Rita, but she did not continue. The Sukey Yates road +<i>was</i> interesting, unusually so.</p> + +<p>Dic paused for an answer, but receiving none, continued with emphasis:—</p> + +<p>"I did not go into the house. I wasn't there five minutes, and I didn't +say ten words to Sukey."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You need not get mad about it," replied the girl. "I don't care how +often you go to see Sukey or any other girl."</p> + +<p>"I know you don't," he returned. "Of course you don't care. I never +hoped—never even dreamed—that you would," and his breath came quickly +with his bold, bold words.</p> + +<p>"You might as well begin to dream," thought the girl, but she laughed, +this time nervously, and said, "She told me you were there and +took—took hold of—that is, she said you were so strong that when you +took hold of her she felt that you could crush her." Then forgetting +herself for a moment, she moved quite close to Dic and asked, "<i>Did</i> you +take—take—" but she stopped.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Rita," returned Dic, with a sharpness that attracted her +attention at once, "did she say I took hold of her, or are you trying to +tease me? If you are teasing, I think it is in bad taste. If she said—"</p> + +<p>"Well," interrupted the girl, slightly frightened, "she said that when +you take hold of one—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she did not say herself?" asked Dic.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that she could have meant any one else," replied Rita. +"But, dear me, I don't care how often you take hold of her; you need not +get angry at me because you took hold of her. There can be no harm in +taking hold of any one, I'm sure, if you choose to do so; but why one +should do it, I don't know, and I'm sure I don't care."</p> + +<p>No <i>ex post facto</i> resolution could cure that lie, though of course it +is a privileged one to a girl.</p> + +<p>Dic made no reply, save to remark: "I'll see Miss Sukey to-morrow. If I +wanted to 'take hold' of her, as she calls it, I would do so, but—but +I'll see her to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The answer startled Rita. She did not want to be known as a tale-bearer. +Especially did she object in this particular case; therefore she +said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"You may see her if you wish, but you shall not speak to her of what I +have told you. She would think—"</p> + +<p>"Let her think what she chooses," he replied. "I have never 'taken hold' +of her in my life. Lord knows, I might if I wanted to. All the other +boys boast that they take turn about, but—. She would be a fool to tell +if it were true, and a story-teller if not. So I'll settle the question +to-morrow, and for all time."</p> + +<p>A deal of trouble might have been saved had Rita permitted him to make +the settlement with Sukey, but she did not. The infinite potency of +little things is one of the paradoxes of life.</p> + +<p>"No, you shall not speak of this matter to her," she said, moving close +to him upon the log and putting her hand upon his arm coaxingly. +"Promise me you will not."</p> + +<p>He would have promised to stop breathing had she asked it in that mood. +It was the first he had ever seen of it, and he was pleased, although, +owing to an opaqueness of mind due to his condition, it told him nothing +save that his old-time friend was back again.</p> + +<p>"If you tell her," continued the girl, "she will be angry with me, and I +have had so much trouble of late I can't bear any more."</p> + +<p>At last she was on the straight road bowling along like a mail coach. +"After I spoke to you as I did the other night—you know, when Tom—I +could not eat or sleep. Oh, I was in so much trouble! You and I had +always been such real friends, and you have always been so good to me—" +a rare little lump was rapidly and alarmingly growing in her throat—"I +have never had even an unkind look from you, and to speak to you as I +did,—oh, Dic,—" the lump grew too large for easy utterance, and she +stopped speaking. Dic was wise in not pursuing the ebb, but he was +foolish in not catching the flood. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> perhaps if he would wait, it +might ingulf him of its own accord, and then, ah, then, the sweetness of +it!</p> + +<p>"Never think of it again," he said soothingly. "Your words hurt me at +the time, but your kind, frank letter cured the pain, and I intended +never to speak of it. But since you have spoken, I—I—"</p> + +<p>The girl was frightened, although eager to hear what he would say, so +she remained silent during Dic's long pause, and at length he said, "I +thank you for the letter."</p> + +<p>A sigh of mingled relief and disappointment came from her breast.</p> + +<p>"It gave me great pleasure, for it made me know that you were still my +friend," said Dic, "and that your words were meant for Tom, and not for +me."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, not for you," said Rita, still struggling with the lump in her +throat.</p> + +<p>"Let us never speak of it again," said Dic. "I'm glad it happened. It +puts our friendship on a firmer basis than ever before."</p> + +<p>"That would be rather hard, to do, wouldn't it?" asked the girl, +laughing contentedly. "We have been such good friends ever since I was a +baby—since before I can remember."</p> + +<p>The direct road was becoming too smooth for Rita, and she began to fear +she would not be able to stop.</p> + +<p>"Let us make this bargain," said Dic. "When you want to say anything +unkind, say it to me. I'll not misunderstand."</p> + +<p>"Very well," she replied laughingly, "the privilege may be a great +comfort to me at times. I, of course, dare not scold mother. If I look +cross at Tom, mother scolds me for a week, and I could not speak +unkindly to poor father. You see, I have no one to scold, and I'm sure +every one should have somebody to explode upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> with impunity now and +then. So I'll accept your offer, and you may expect—" There was a brief +pause, after which she continued: "No, I'll not. Never again so long as +I live. You, of all others, shall be safe from my ill temper," and she +gave him her hand in confirmation of her words.</p> + +<p>In all the world there was no breast freer from ill temper than hers; no +heart more gentle, tender, and trustful. Her nature was like a burning +spring. It was pure, cool, and limpid to its greatest depths, though +there was fire in it.</p> + +<p>Dic did not consider himself obliged to release Rita's hand at once, and +as she evidently thought it would be impolite to withdraw it, there is +no telling what mistakes might have happened had not Tom appeared upon +the scene.</p> + +<p>Tom seated himself beside Dic just as that young man dropped Rita's +hand, and just as the young lady moved a little way toward her end of +the log.</p> + +<p>"You are home early," remarked Rita.</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded Tom, "Doug Hill was there—the lubberly pumpkin-head."</p> + +<p>No man of honor would remain in a young lady's parlor if at the time of +his arrival she had another gentleman visitor unless upon the request of +the young lady, and no insult so deep and deadly could be offered to the +man in possession as the proffer of such a request by the young lady to +the intruder.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes of silence Tom remarked: "This night reminds me of +the night I come from Cincinnati to Brookville on the canal-boat. +Everything's so warm and clear like. I set out on top of the boat and +seed the hills go by."</p> + +<p>"Did the hills go by?" asked Rita, who had heard the story of Tom's +Cincinnati trip many times.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, they seemed to go by," answered Tom. "Of course, they didn't +move. It was the boat. But I jest seed them move as plain as I see that +cloud up yonder."</p> + +<p>That Tom had not profited by Billy Little's training and his mother's +mild corrections now and then (for the Chief Justice had never entirely +lost the habits of better days), was easily discernible in his speech. +Rita's English, like Dic's and Billy Little's, was corrupted in spots by +evil communication; but Tom's—well, Tom was no small part of the evil +communication itself.</p> + +<p>Dic had heard the Cincinnati story many times, and when he saw symptoms +of its recurrence, he rose and said:—</p> + +<p>"Well, Tom, if you <i>seed</i> the hills go by, you'll <i>seed</i> me go by if you +watch, for I'm going home," and with a good night he started up the +river path, leaving Rita and her brother Tom seated on the log.</p> + +<p>"So Doug Hill was there?" asked Rita.</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded Tom; "and how any girl can let him kiss her, I don't +know. His big yaller face reminds me of the under side of a mud-turtle."</p> + +<p>"I hope Sukey doesn't allow him nor any one else to kiss her," cried +Rita, with a touch of indignant remonstrance. Tom laughed as if to say +that he could name at least one who enjoyed that pleasant privilege.</p> + +<p>Rita was at that time only sixteen years old, and had many things to +learn about the doings of her neighbors, which one would wish she might +never know. The Chief Justice had at least one virtue: she knew how to +protect her daughter. No young man had ever been permitted to "keep +company" with Rita, and she and her mother wanted none. Dic, of course, +had for years been a constant visitor; but he, as you know, was like one +of the family. Aside from the habit of Dic's visits, and growing out of +them, Madam Bays had dim outlines of a future purpose. Dic's father, who +was dead, had been considered well-to-do among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> his neighbors. He had +died seized of four "eighties," all paid for, and two-thirds cleared for +cultivation. Eighty acres of cleared bottom land was looked upon as a +fair farm. One might own a thousand acres of rich soil covered with as +fine oak, walnut, and poplar as the world could produce and might still +be a poor man, though the timber in these latter days would bring a +fortune. Cleared land was wealth at the time of which I write, and in +building their houses the settlers used woods from which nowadays +furniture is made for royal palaces. Every man on Blue might have said +with Louis XIV, "I am housed like a king." Cleared land was wealth, and +Dic, upon his mother's death, would at least be well able to support a +wife. The Chief Justice knew but one cause for tenderness—Tom. When +Rita was passing into womanhood, and developing a beauty that could not +be matched on all the River Blue, she began to assume a commercial value +in her mother's eyes that might, Madam B. thought in a dimly conscious +fashion, be turned to Tom's account. Should Rita marry a rich man, there +would be no injustice—justice, you know, was the watchword—in leaving +all the Bays estate to the issue male. Therefore, although Mrs. Bays was +not at all ready for her young daughter to receive attention from any +man, when the proper time should come, Dic might be available if no one +better offered, and Tom, dear, sweet, Sir Thomas de Triflin', should +then have all that his father and mother possessed, as soon as they +could with decent self-respect die and get out of his way.</p> + +<p>As time passed, and Rita's beauty grew apace, Mrs. Bays began to feel +that Dic with his four "eighties" was not a price commensurate with the +winsome girl. But having no one else in mind, she permitted his visits +with a full knowledge of their purpose, and hoped that chance or her +confidential friend, Providence, might bring a nobler prize<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> within +range of the truly great attractiveness of Tom's sister.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bays knew that the life she and her neighbors were leading was poor +and crude. She also knew that men of wealth and position were eagerly +seeking rare girls of Rita's type. By brooding over better things than +Dic could offer, her hope grew into a strong desire, and with Rita's +increasing beauty this motherly desire took the form of faith. Still, +Dic's visits were permitted to continue, and doubtless would be +permitted so long as they should be made ostensibly to the family.</p> + +<p>Tom's remarks upon Sukey and Sukey's observations concerning Dic had +opened Rita's eyes to certain methods prevalent among laddies and +lasses, and as a result Sukey, for the time, became <i>persona non grata</i> +to her old-time friend. Rita was not at the time capable of active +jealousy. She knew Sukey was pretty enough, and, she feared, bold enough +to be dangerous in the matter of Dic, but she trusted him. Sukey +certainly was prettily bedecked with the pinkest and whitest of cheeks, +twinkling dimples, and sparkling eyes; but for real beauty she was not +in Rita's class, and few men would think of her fleshly charms twice +when they might be thinking of our little heroine.</p> + +<p>Thus Tom and Sukey became fountain-heads of unhallowed knowledge upon +subjects concerning which every young girl, however pure, has a +consuming curiosity.</p> + +<p>Rita had heard of the "kissing games" played by the youngsters, and a +few of the oldsters, too, at country frolics, corn-huskings, and church +socials; but as I have told you, the level-headed old Chief Justice had +wisely kept her daughter away from such gatherings, and Rita knew little +of the kissing, and never telling what was going on about her. Tom and +Sukey had thrown light upon the subject for her, and she soon +understood, feared, and abhorred. Would she ever pity and embrace?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE DEBUTANTE</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Debutante</span></h4> + + +<p>A year after the small happenings I have just related, great events +began to cluster about Dic. They were truly great for him and of course +were great for Rita.</p> + +<p>Through Billy Little's aid Dic received an offer from an eastern horse +buyer to lead a drove of horses to New York. The task was difficult, and +required a man of health, strength, judgment, and nerve. The trip going +would require two months, and the horses must be kept together, fed, +cared for, and, above all, protected night and day from horse thieves, +until after the Alleghanies were crossed. The horses were driven loose +in herds of one hundred or more. Three men constituted a crew. In this +instance Dic was to be in charge, and two rough horse-boys would be his +assistants. It would have been impossible to <i>drive</i> the horses over the +fenceless roads and through the leagues of trackless forest; therefore, +they were led. The men would take turns about riding in advance, and the +man leading would continually whistle a single shrill note which the +horses soon learned to follow. Should the whistling cease for a moment, +the horses would stop and perhaps stampede. This might mean forty-eight +hours of constant work in gathering the drove, with perhaps the loss of +one or more. If you will, for one hour, whistle a shrill note loud +enough to reach the ears of a herd of trampling, neighing horses, you +will discover<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> that even that task, which is the smallest part of horse +"leading," is an exhausting operation.</p> + +<p>The work was hard, but the pay was good, and Dic was delighted with the +opportunity. One of its greatest attractions to him was the fact that he +would see something of the world. Billy Little urged him to accept the +offer.</p> + +<p>"A man," said he, "estimates his own stature by comparing it with those +about him, and the most fatal mistake he can make is to underestimate +his size. Self-conceit is ugly, but it never injured any one. Modesty +would have ruined Napoleon himself. The measure of a man, like the +length of a cloth-yard, depends upon the standard. Go away from here, +Dic. Find your true standard. Measure yourself and return, if you wish. +This place is as good as another, if a man knows himself; if he doesn't, +he is apt to be deceived by the littleness of things about him. Yet +there are great things here, too—greater, in some respects, than any to +be found in New York; but the great things here are possibilities. Of +course, possibilities are but the raw material. They must be +manufactured—achieved. But achievement, my boy, achievement! that's the +whole thing, after all. What would Cæsar Germanicus and Napoleon have +been without possibilities? A ready-made opportunity is a good thing in +its way, but it is the creation of opportunity out of crude +possibilities that really marks and makes the man and stamps the deed. +Any hungry fool would seize the opportunity to eat who might starve if +he had to make his bread. Go out into the world. You have good eyes. It +will not take long to open them. When they are opened, come back and you +will see opportunities here that will make you glad you are alive."</p> + +<p>"But, Billy Little," replied Dic, who was sitting with Rita on the +sycamore divan, while their small elderly friend sat upon the grass +facing them, "you certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> have seen the world. Your eyes were opened +before you came here, and it seems to me your learning and culture are +buried here among the possibilities you speak of."</p> + +<p>"No, Dic," answered Billy, "you see, I—well, I ran away from—from many +things. You see, you and I are cast in different moulds. You are six +feet tall, physically and temperamentally." Rita thought Billy was the +most acute observer in Christendom, but she did not speak, save with her +eyes. Those eyes nowadays were always talking.</p> + +<p>"Six feet don't amount to much," responded Dic. "There is Doug Hill, who +is six feet three, with no more brains than a catfish. It is what's at +the top of the six feet that counts. You have more at the top of your +five feet four than the tallest man on Blue, and as I said, you seem to +be buried here. Where are the possibilities for you, Billy Little? And +if you can't achieve something great—poor me!"</p> + +<p>"There are different possibilities for different men. I think, for +example, I have achieved something in you. What say you, Rita?"</p> + +<p>The girl was taken unawares. "Indeed you have, glorious—splendid—that +is, I mean you have achieved something great in all of us whom you have +tried to influence. I see your possibilities, Billy Little. I see them +stamped upon the entire Blue River settlement. La Salle and Marquette, +of whom Dic read to me from your book, had the same sort of +opportunities. Their field was broader, but I doubt if their influence +will be more lasting than yours."</p> + +<p>"Rather more conspicuous," laughed Billy.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Rita, "your achievements will not be recorded. Their +effect will probably be felt by all of us, and the achievement must be +your only reward."</p> + +<p>"It is all I ask," returned Billy. Then, after a pause,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> he spoke in +mock reproof to Dic, "Now, hang your head in shame."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's my turn," Dic replied.</p> + +<p>"The achievements of picturesque men only should be placarded to the +world," said Billy. "The less said about a little old knot like me the +better for—better for the knot."</p> + +<p>"You are not a knot," cried Rita indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Rita," said Dic, "you know the walnut knot, while it shows the roughest +bark, has the finest grain in the tree."</p> + +<p>"I am going home if you don't stop that sort of talking," said Billy, +pleased to his toes, but pretending to be annoyed.</p> + +<p>A fortnight before Dic's intended departure for New York an opportunity +presented itself of which the young man, after due consideration, +determined to take advantage. He walked over one evening to see Tom, +but, as usual, found Rita. After a few minutes in which to work his +courage up, he said:—</p> + +<p>"There is to be a church social at Scott's to-morrow night—the +Baptists. I wonder if you would like—that is, would want to—would be +willing to go with me?"</p> + +<p>"I would be glad to go," answered the girl; "but mother won't let me."</p> + +<p>"We'll go in and ask her, if you wish," he replied.</p> + +<p>"There's no use, but we can try. Perhaps if she thinks I don't want to +go, she will consent."</p> + +<p>Into the house they went, and Dic made his wants known to the head of +the family.</p> + +<p>"No," snapped the good lady, "she can't go. Girls of sixteen and +seventeen nowadays think they are young ladies."</p> + +<p>"They are dull, anyway," said Rita, referring to church socials. "I have +heard they are particularly dull at Scott's—the Baptists are so +religious. Sukey Yates said they did nothing but preach and pray and +sing psalms and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> take up a collection at the last social Scott gave. +It's just like church, and I don't want to go anyway." She had never +been to a church social, but from what she had heard she believed them +to be bacchanalian scenes of riotous enjoyment, and her remarks were +intended to deceive.</p> + +<p>"You should not speak so disrespectfully of the church," said the Chief +Justice, sternly. "The Lord will punish you for it, see if He doesn't. +Since I think about it, the socials held at Scott's are true, religious, +God-fearing gatherings, and you shall go as a punishment for your +sacrilegious sneers. Perhaps if you listen to the Word, it may come back +after many days." Margarita, Sr., often got her Biblical metaphors +mixed, but that troubled her little. There was, she thought, virtue in +scriptural quotations, even though entirely inapplicable to the case in +point.</p> + +<p>"Come for her to-morrow evening, Dic," said Mrs. B. "She shall be +ready." Then turning to Rita: "To speak of the Holy Word in that manner! +You shall be punished."</p> + +<p>Dic and Rita went out to the porch. Dic laughed, but the girl saw +nothing funny.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me just as if I had told a story," she said. "One may act a +story as easily as tell it."</p> + +<p>"Well, you are to be punished," laughed Dic.</p> + +<p>"But you know I want to go. I have never been to a social, and it will +not punish me to go."</p> + +<p>"Then you are to be punished by going with me," returned the stalwart +young fisherman. She looked up to him with a flash of her eyes—those +eyes were worse than a loose tongue for tattling—and said:—</p> + +<p>"That is true."</p> + +<p>Dic, who was fairly boiling with pleasant anticipations, went to town +next day and boiled over on Billy Little.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to take Rita to Scott's social this evening," he said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed," responded Billy; "it's her first time out, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I envy her, by George, I do, and I envy you," said Billy. He did not +envy Dic; but you may remember my remarks concerning bachelor hearts and +their unprotected condition in this cruel world. There may be pain of +the sort Billy felt without either envy or jealousy.</p> + +<p>"Dic, I have a mind to send Rita a nice ribbon or two for to-night. What +do you think about it?" asked Billy.</p> + +<p>"She would be delighted," answered Dic. "She would accept them from you, +but not from me."</p> + +<p>"There is no flattery in that remark," answered Billy, with a touch of +sharpness.</p> + +<p>"Why, Billy Little, what do you suppose I meant?" asked Dic.</p> + +<p>"I know you spoke the truth. She would accept a present from the little +old knot, but would refuse it from the straight young tree."</p> + +<p>"Why, Billy Little, I meant nothing of the sort."</p> + +<p>"Now, not another word," interrupted Billy. "Give these ribbons to her +when you ride home, and tell her the knot sends them to the sweetbrier." +Then turning his face to the shelves on the wall, and arranging a few +pieces of goods, he hummed under his breath his favorite stanza, +"Maxwelton's braes," and paid no further attention to his guest.</p> + +<p>Rita came out as Dic rode up to the gate. He did not dismount, but +handed her the ribbons across the fence, saying: "Billy Little sends you +these for to-night. He said they were from the knot to the sweetbrier."</p> + +<p>The girl's suppressed delight had been troubling her all day. Her first +party, her first escort, and that escort Dic! What more could a girl +desire? The ribbons were too much. And somebody was almost ready to weep +for joy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> She opened the little package and her eyes sparkled. When she +felt that speech was entirely safe, she said:—</p> + +<p>"The little package is as prim and neat as Billy Little himself. Dear, +sweet, old Billy Little."</p> + +<p>Dic, whose heart was painfully inflamed, was almost jealous of Billy, +and said:—</p> + +<p>"I suppose you would not have accepted them from me?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" she responded. "Of course I would." Her eyes grew wide when +she looked up to him and continued, "Did you get them for me and tell me +that Billy Little sent them?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Dic, regretfully, as he began to see possibilities, even +on Blue. One possibility, at least, he saw clearly—one that he had +lost.</p> + +<p>"It was more than a possibility," he said to himself, as he rode +homeward. "It was a ready-made opportunity, and I did not see it. The +sooner I go to New York or some place else and get my eyes opened, the +better it will be for me."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The church social opened with a long, sonorous prayer by the Baptist +preacher, Mr. Wetmore. Then followed a psalm, which in turn was followed +by a "few words." After the few words, Rev. Wetmore said in soft, +conciliatory tones, "Now, brethren, if Deacon Moore will be so kind as +to pass the hat, we will receive the offering."</p> + +<p>Wetmore was not an ordained minister, nor was he recognized by the +church to which he claimed to belong. He was one of the many itinerant +vagabonds who foisted themselves upon isolated communities solely for +the sake of the "offering."</p> + +<p>Deacon Moore passed his hat, and when he handed it to Wetmore that +worthy soul counted out two large copper pennies. There were also in the +hat two brass buttons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> which Tom, much to Sukey's amusement, had torn +from his clothing for the purpose of an offering. Sukey laughed so +inordinately at Tom's extravagant philanthropy that she convinced De +Triflin' he was a very funny fellow indeed; but she brought upon her +pretty flaxen head a reprimand from Wetmore.</p> + +<p>"Undue levity," said he, "ill becomes even frivolous youth at this +moment. Later you will have ample opportunity to indulge your mirth; but +for the present, the Lord's business—" at the word "business" he +received the hat from Deacon Moore, and looked eagerly into it for the +offering. Disappointment, quite naturally, spread itself over his sallow +face, and he continued: "Buttons do not constitute an acceptable +offering to the Lord. He can have no use for them. I think that during +the course of my life work in the vineyard I have received a million +buttons of which I—I mean the Lord—can have no possible use. If these +buttons had been dollars or shillings, or even pennies, think of the +blessings they would have brought from above."</p> + +<p>The reverend man spoke several times with excusable asperity of +"buttons," and after another psalm and a sounding benediction the +religious exercises were finished, and the real business of the evening, +the spelling-bee and the kissing games, began.</p> + +<p>At these socials many of the old folks took part in the spelling-bee, +after which they usually went home—an event eagerly awaited by the +young people.</p> + +<p>There was but one incident in the spelling-bee that touched our friends, +and I shall pass briefly over that part of the entertainment preceding +it. The class, ranging in years from those who lisped in youth to those +who lisped in age, stood in line against the wall, and Wetmore, +spelling-book in hand, stood in front of them to "give out" the words. +It was not considered fair to give out a word not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> in the spelling-book +until the spelling and "syllabling" of sentences was commenced. All +words were syllabled, but to spell and syllable a sentence was not an +easy task, and by the time sentences were reached the class usually had +dwindled down to three or four of the best spellers. Of course, one who +missed a word left the class. Our friends—Billy Little, Dic, Rita, and +Sukey Yates—were in the contest.</p> + +<p>The first word given out was metropolitan, and it fell to Douglas of the +Hill. He began: "M-e-t—there's your met; r-o—there's your ro; there's +your metro; p-o-l—there's your pol; there's your ro-pol; there's your +met-ro-pol; i—there's your i; there's your pol-i; there's your +ro-pol-i; there's your met-ro-pol-i; t-e-n—there's your—" "t-a-n," +cried the girl next to him, who happened to be Sukey Yates, and Douglas +stepped down and out.</p> + +<p>A score or more of words were then spelled without an error, until +Constantinople fell to the lot of an elderly man who stood by Rita. He +began: "C-o-n—there's your Con; s-t-a-n—there's your stan; there's +your Con-stan; t-i—there's your ti; there's your stan-ti; there's your +Con-stan-ti; n-o—there's your no; there's your ti-no; there's your +stan-ti-no; there's your Con-stan-ti-no; p-e-l—there's your pell; +there's your no—"—"p-l-e—there's your pell" (so pronounced); "there's +your Con-stan-ti-no-ple," chimed Rita, and her elderly neighbor took a +chair. Others of the class dropped out, leaving only our four +acquaintances,—Dic, Billy, Sukey, and Rita. Dic went out on "a" in +place of "i" in collectible, Sukey turning him down. Rita had hoped he +would win the contest and had determined, should it narrow down to +herself and him, to miss intentionally, if need be. After Dic had taken +a chair, judgment fell to and upon Sukey. She began "j-u-d-g-e—there's +your judge;" whereupon Billy Little said, "Sink the e," and Sukey sank, +leaving Billy Little and Rita standing against the wall, as if they were +about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> to be married. Billy, of course, was only awaiting a good +opportunity to fail in order that the laurels of victory might rest upon +Rita's brow.</p> + +<p>"We will now spell and syllable a few sentences," said Wetmore. "Mr. +Little, I give you the sentence, 'An abominable bumblebee with his tail +cut off.'"</p> + +<p>It must be remembered that in spelling these words and sentences each +syllable was pronounced separately and roundly. B-o-m was a full grown, +sonorous bom. B-u-m was a rolling bum, and b-l-e was pronounced bell +with a strong, full, ringing, liquid sound. The following italics show +the emphasis. Billy slowly repeated the sentence and began:—</p> + +<p>"A-n—there's your an; a—there's your a; there's your an-a; b-o-m—there's +your <i>bom</i>; there's your <i>a</i>-bom; there's your <i>an</i>-a-<i>bom</i>; +i—there's your i; there's your <i>bom</i>-i; there's your <i>a</i>-bom-i; +there's your <i>an</i>-a-bom-i; n-a—there's your na; there's your <i>i</i>-na; +there's your <i>bom</i>-i-na; there's your <i>a</i>-bom-i-<i>na</i>; there's +your <i>an</i>-a-<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>; b-l-e—there's your bell; there's your +<i>na</i>-bell; there's your <i>i</i>-na-bell; there's your +<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell; there's your <i>a</i>-bom-i-<i>na</i>-bell; there's +your <i>an</i>-a-<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell; +b-u-m—there's your bum; there's your <i>bell</i>-bum; there's your +<i>na</i>-bell-bum; there's your <i>i</i>-na-<i>bell</i>-bum; there's your +<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>; there's your +<i>a</i>-bom-i-<i>na</i>-<i>bell</i>-<i>bum</i>; there's your +<i>an</i>-a-<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>; b-l-e—there's your bell; +there's your <i>bum</i>-bell; there's your <i>bell</i>-bum-<i>bell</i>; +there's your <i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell; there's your +<i>i</i>-na-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell; there's your +<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell; there's your +<i>a</i>-bom-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell; there's your +<i>an</i>-a-<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell; +b-e-e—there's your bee; there's your <i>bell</i>-bee; there's your +<i>bum</i>-bell-bee; there's your <i>bell</i>-bum-<i>bell</i>-bee; there's your +<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-<i>bell</i>-bee; there's your +<i>i</i>-na-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee; there's your +<i>bom</i>-i-na-<i>bell</i>-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee; there's your +<i>a</i>-bom-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee; there's your +<i>an</i>-a-bom-i-<i>na</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>bell-<i>bum</i>-<i>bell</i>-bee; +w-i-t-h—h-i-s—there's your with-his; there's your <i>bee</i>-with-his; +there's your <i>bell</i>-bee-with-his; there's your +<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +<i>bell</i>-bum-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his; there's your +<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +<i>i</i>-na-<i>bell</i>-<i>bum</i>-bell-<i>bee</i>-with-his; there's your +<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +<i>a</i>-<i>bom</i>-i-na-<i>bell</i>-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +<i>an</i>-a-<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his; +t-a-l-e—there's your—" But Rita chimed in at once: "T-a-i-l—there's your +tail; there's your <i>with</i>-his-tail; there's your <i>bee</i>-with-his-tail; +there's your <i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-<i>tail</i>; there's your +<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +<i>bell</i>-bum-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +<i>i</i>-na-<i>bell</i>-bum-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +<i>bom</i>-i-na-<i>bell</i>-bum-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +<i>a</i>-bom-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +<i>an</i>-a-<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his-tail; +c-u-t—there's your cut; there's your <i>tail</i>-cut; there's your +<i>with</i>-his-tail-cut; there's your <i>bee</i>-with-his-tail-cut; there's +your <i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +<i>bum</i>-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +<i>bell</i>-bum-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +<i>i</i>-na-<i>bell</i>-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his-<i>tail</i>-cut; there's +your <i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-<i>bee</i>-with-his +-<i>tail</i>-cut; there's your <i>a</i>-bom-i-<i>na</i>-<i>bell</i>-bum +-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail-<i>cut</i>; there's your <i>an</i>-a-<i>bom</i> +-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail-cut; o-f-f—there's +your off; there's your <i>cut</i>-off; there's your <i>tail</i>-cut-off; +there's your <i>with</i>-<i>his</i>-tail-cut-off; there's your <i>bee</i>-with +-his-tail-cut-off; there's your <i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's +your <i>bum</i>-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +<i>bell</i>-bum-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +<i>i</i>-na-<i>bell</i>-bum-<i>bell</i>-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's +your <i>a</i>-bom-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; +there's your <i>an</i>-a-<i>bom</i>-i-<i>na</i>-bell-<i>bum</i>-bell-bee-with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +his-tail-cut-<i>off</i>," and Rita took her seat, filled with triumph, save +for the one regret that Dic had not won.</p> + +<p>Many of the old folks, including Billy Little, departed when the bee +closed, and a general clamor went up for the kissing games to begin.</p> + +<p>Rita declined to take part in the kissing games, and sat against the +wall with several other young ladies who had no partners. To Dic she +gave the candid reason that she did not want to play, and he was glad.</p> + +<p>Doug Hill, who, in common with every other young man on the premises, +ardently desired Rita's presence in the game, said:—</p> + +<p>"Oh, come in, Rita. Don't be so stuck up. It won't hurt you to be +kissed." Doug was a bold, devil-may-care youth, who spoke his mind +freely upon all occasions. He was of enormous size, and gloried in the +fact that he was the neighborhood bully and very, very "tough." Doug +would have you know that Doug would drink; Doug would gamble; Doug would +fight. He tried to create the impression that he was very bad indeed, +and succeeded. He would go to town Saturdays, "fill up," as he called +getting drunk, and would ride furiously miles out of his way going home +that he might pass the houses of his many lady-loves, and show them by +yells and oaths what a rollicking blade he was. The reputation thus +acquired won him many a smile; for, deplore the fact as we may, there's +a drop of savage blood still alive in the feminine heart that does not +despise depravity in man as it really should.</p> + +<p>"Come into the game," cried Doug, taking Rita by the arm, and dragging +her toward the centre of the room.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to play," cried the girl. "Please let loose of my arms; +you hurt me," but Doug continued to drag her toward the ring of players +that was forming, and she continued to resist. Doug persisted, and after +a moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> of struggling she called out, "Dic, Dic!" She had been +accustomed since childhood to call upon that name in time of trouble, +and had always found help. Dic would not have interfered had not Rita +called, but when she did he responded at once.</p> + +<p>"Let her alone, Hill," said Dic, as pleasantly as possible under the +circumstances. "If she doesn't want to play, she doesn't have to."</p> + +<p>"You go to—" cried Doug. "Maybe you think you can run over me, you +stuck-up Mr. Proper."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to do anything of the sort," answered Dic; "but if you +don't let loose of Rita's arm, I'll—"</p> + +<p>"What will you do?" asked Doug, laughing uproariously.</p> + +<p>For a moment Dic allowed himself to grow angry, and said, "I'll knock +that pumpkin off your shoulders," but at once regretted his words.</p> + +<p>Doug thought Dic's remark very funny, and intimated as much. Then he +bowed his head in front of our hero and said, "Here is the pumpkin; hit +it if you dare."</p> + +<p>Dic restrained an ardent desire, and Doug still with bowed head +continued, "I'll give you a shillin' if you'll hit it, and if you don't, +I'll break your stuck-up face."</p> + +<p>Dic did not accept the shilling, which was not actually tendered in +lawful coin, but stepped back from Doug that he might be prepared for +the attack he expected. After waiting what he considered to be a +reasonable time for Dic to accept his offer, Doug started toward our +hero, looking very ugly and savage. Dic was strong and brave, but he +seemed small beside his bulky antagonist, and Rita, frightened out of +all sense of propriety, ran to her champion, and placing her back +against his breast, faced Doug with fear and trembling. The girl was not +tall enough by many inches to protect Dic's face from the breaking Doug +had threatened; but what she lacked in height<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> she made up in terror, +and she looked so "skeert," as Doug afterwards said, that he turned upon +his heel with the remark:—</p> + +<p>"That's all right. I was only joking. We don't want no fight at a church +social, do we, Dic?"</p> + +<p>"I don't particularly want to fight any place," replied Dic, glad that +the ugly situation had taken a pleasant turn.</p> + +<p>"Reckon you don't," returned Doug, uproariously, and the game proceeded.</p> + +<p>Partly from disinclination, and partly because he wanted to talk to +Rita, Dic did not at first enter the game, but during an intermission +Sukey whispered to him:—</p> + +<p>"We are going to play Drop the Handkerchief, and if you'll come in I'll +drop it behind you every time, and—" here the whispers became very low +and soft, "I'll let you catch me, too. We'll make pumpkin-head sick."</p> + +<p>The game of skill known as "Drop the Handkerchief" was played in this +fashion: a circle of boys and girls was formed in the centre of the +room, each person facing the centre. One of the number was chosen "It." +"It's" function was to walk or run around the circle and drop the +handkerchief behind the chosen one. If "It" happened to be a young man, +the chosen one, of course, was a young woman who immediately started in +pursuit. If she caught the young man before he could run around the +circle to the place she had vacated, he must deposit a forfeit, to be +redeemed later in the evening. In any case she became the next "It." A +young lady "It" of course dropped the handkerchief behind a young man, +and equally, of course, started with a scream of frightened modesty +around the circle of players, endeavoring to reach, if possible, the +place of sanctuary left vacant by the young man. He started in pursuit, +and if he caught her—there we draw the veil. If the young lady were +anxious to escape, it was often possible for her to do so. But thanks to +Providence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> all hearts were not so obdurate as Rita's. I would say, +however, in palliation of the infrequency of escapes, that it was looked +upon as a serious affront for a young lady to run too rapidly. In case +she were caught and refused to pay the forfeit, her act was one of +deadly insult gratuitously offered in full view of friends and +acquaintances.</p> + +<p>Dic hesitated to accept Sukey's invitation, though, in truth, it would +have been inviting to any man of spirit. Please do not understand me to +say that Dic was a second Joseph, nor that he was one who would run away +from a game of any sort because a pretty Miss Potiphar or two happened +to be of the charmed and charming circle.</p> + +<p>He had often been in the games, and no one had ever impugned his spirit +of gallantry by accusing him of unseemly neglect of the beautiful Misses +P. His absence from this particular game was largely due to the fact +that the right Miss Potiphar was sitting against the wall.</p> + +<p>A flush came to Rita's cheek, and she moved uneasily when she saw Sukey +whispering to Dic; but he did not suspect that Rita cared a straw what +Sukey said. Neither did it occur to him that Rita would wish him to +remain out of the game. He could, if he entered the game, make Doug Hill +"sick," as Sukey had suggested, and that was a consummation devoutly to +be wished. He did not wish to subject himself to the charge of +ungallantry; and Sukey was, as you already know, fair to look upon, and +her offer was as generous as she could make under the circumstances. So +he chose a young lady, left Rita by the wall, and entered the game.</p> + +<p>Doug Hill happened to be "It" and dropped the handkerchief behind Sukey, +whereupon that young lady walked leisurely around the circle, making no +effort to capture the Redoubtable. Such apathy was not only an +infringement of the etiquette of the game, but might, if the injured +party were one of high spirits, be looked upon as an insult.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sukey then became "It," and, dropping the handkerchief behind Dic, +deliberately waited for him to catch her; when, of course, a catastrophe +ensued. Meantime, the wall was growing uncomfortable to Rita. She had +known in a dimly conscious way that certain things always happened at +country frolics, but to <i>see</i> them startled her, and she began to feel +very miserable. Her tender heart fluttered piteously with a hundred +longings, chief among which was the desire to prevent further +catastrophes between Dic and Sukey.</p> + +<p>Compared to Sukey, there was no girl in the circle at all entitled to be +ranked in the Potiphar class of beauty. So, when Dic succeeded Sukey as +"It," he dropped the handkerchief behind her. Then she again chose Dic, +and in turn became the central figure in a catastrophe that was painful +to the girl by the wall. If Rita had been in ignorance of her real +sentiments for Dic, that ignorance had, within the last few minutes, +given place to a knowledge so luminous that it was almost blinding. The +room seemed to become intensely warm. Meantime the play went on, and the +process of making Doug "sick" continued with marked success. Sukey +always favored Dic, and he returned in kind. This alternation, which was +beyond all precedent, soon aroused a storm of protests.</p> + +<p>"If you want to play by yourselves," cried Tom, "why don't you go off by +yourselves?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," cried the others; "if you can't play fair, get out of the game."</p> + +<p>The order of events was immediately changed, but occasionally Sukey +broke away from time-honored precedent and repeated her favors to Dic. +Doug was rapidly growing as "sick" as his most inveterate enemy could +have desired. There was another person in the room who was also very +wretched—one whom Dic would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> have pained for all the Sukey +Potiphars in Egypt. The other person was not only pained, she was +grieved, confused, frightened, desperate. She feared that she would cry +out and ask Dic not to favor Sukey. She did not know what to do, nor +what she might be led to do, if matters continued on their present +course.</p> + +<p>Soon after Tom's reprimand, Sukey found the duty of dropping the +handkerchief again devolving upon her pretty self. She longed with all +her heart to drop it behind Dic; but, fearing the wrath of her friends, +she concluded to choose the man least apt to arouse antagonism in Dic's +breast. She would choose one whom he knew she despised, and would trust +to luck and her swift little feet to take her around the circle before +the dropee could catch her.</p> + +<p>Wetmore had been an active member, though a passive participant, in the +game, since its beginning. When a young lady "It" walked back of him, he +would eagerly watch her approach, and when she passed him, as all did, +he would turn his face after her and hope for better things from the +next. Repeated disappointments had lulled his vigil, and when Sukey, the +girl of all others for whom he had not hoped, dropped the sacred linen +behind his reverend form, he was so startled that he did not seize the +precious moment. He was standing beside Doug Hill, and the handkerchief +fell almost between the two. It was clearly intended for his reverence; +but when he failed instantly to meet the requirements of the situation, +the Douglas, most alert of men, resolved to appropriate the opportunity +to himself. At the same moment Brother W. also determined to embrace it, +and, if possible, "It." Each stooped at the same instant, and their +heads collided.</p> + +<p>"Let it alone, parson, it's for me," cried the Douglas.</p> + +<p>Parson did not answer, but reached out his hand for the coveted prize. +Thereupon Douglas pushed him backward,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> causing him to be seated with +great violence upon the floor. At that unfortunate moment Sukey, who had +taken speed from eagerness, completed her trip around the circle, and +being unable to stop, fell headlong over the figure of the self-made +parson. She had not seen Doug's part in the transaction, and being much +disturbed in mind and dress, turned upon poor Wetmore and flung at the +worthy shepherd the opprobrious words, "You fool."</p> + +<p>When we consider the buttons in the offering, together with Sukey's +unjust and biting words, we cannot help believing that Wetmore had been +born under an unlucky star.</p> + +<p>One's partner in this game was supposed to favor one now and then, when +opportunity presented; but Wetmore's partner, Miss Tompkinson, having +waited in vain for favors from that gentleman, quitted the game when +Sukey called him, "You fool." Wetmore thought, of course, he also would +be compelled to drop out; but, wonder of wonders, Rita, the most +beautiful girl in the room, rose to her feet and said:—</p> + +<p>"I'll take your place, Miss Tompkinson." She knew that if she were in +the game, Sukey's reign would end, and she had reached the point of +perturbation where she was willing to do anything to prevent the +recurrence of certain painful happenings. She knew that she should not +take part in the game,—it was not for such as her,—but she was +confused, desperate, and "didn't care." She modestly knew her own +attractions. Every young man in the circle was a friend of Tom's, and +had at some time manifested a desire to be a friend to Tom's sister. Tom +was fairly popular for his own sake, but his exceeding radiance was +borrowed. The game could not be very wicked, thought Rita, since it was +encouraged by the church; but even if it were wicked, she determined to +take possession of her own in the person of Dic. Out of these several<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +impulses and against her will came the words, "I'll take your place, +Miss Tompkinson," and almost before she was aware of what she had done +she was standing with fiercely throbbing pulse, a member of the +forbidden circle.<br /><br /></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 418px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/fig_002.png" width="418" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"She flung at the worthy shepherd the opprobrious words, +'You fool.'"</span> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p>As Rita had expected, the handkerchief soon fell behind her, and without +the least trouble she caught the young fellow who had dropped it, for +the man did not live who could run from her. The pledge, a pocket-knife, +was deposited, and Rita became a trembling, terrified "It." What to do +with the handkerchief she did not know, but she started desperately +around the circle. After the fourth or fifth trip the players began to +laugh. Dic's heart was doing a tremendous business, and he felt that +life would be worthless if the handkerchief should fall from Rita's hand +behind any one but him. Meanwhile the frightened girl walked round and +round the circle, growing more confused with every trip.</p> + +<p>"Drop it, Rita," cried Doug Hill, "or you'll drop."</p> + +<p>"She's getting tired," said another.</p> + +<p>"See how warm she is," remarked gentle Tom.</p> + +<p>"Somebody fan her," whispered Sukey.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I want to play," said Rita, whose cheeks were burning. +A chorus of protests came from all save Dic; so she took up her burden +again and of course must drop it. After another long weary walk an +inspiration came to her; she would drop the handkerchief behind Tom. She +did so. Tom laughed, and all agreed with one accord that it was against +the rules of the game to drop the handkerchief behind a brother or +sister. Then Rita again took up her burden, which by that time was a +heavy one indeed. She had always taken her burdens to Dic, so she took +this one to him and dropped it.</p> + +<p>"I knew she would," screamed every one, and Rita started in dreadful +earnest on her last fatal trip around the circle. A moment before the +circle had been too small,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> but now it seemed interminable, and poor +Rita found herself in Dic's strong arms before she was halfway home. She +almost hated him for catching her. She did not take into consideration +the facts that she had invited him and that it would have been ungallant +had he permitted her to escape, but above all, she did not know the +desire in his heart. She had surprised and disappointed him by entering +the game; but since it was permitted, he would profit by the surprise +and snatch a joyful moment from his disappointment. But another surprise +awaited him. When a young lady was caught a certain degree of +resistance, purely for form's sake, was expected, but usually the young +lady would feel aggrieved, or would laugh at the young man were the +resistance taken seriously. When Dic caught Rita there was one case, at +least, where the resistance was frantically real. She covered her face +with her hands and supposed he would make no effort to remove them. She +was mistaken, he acted upon the accepted theories of the game. She was a +baby in strength compared with Dic, and he easily held her hands while +he bent her head backward till her upturned face was within easy reach.</p> + +<p>"Don't kiss me," she cried.</p> + +<p>There was no sham in her words, and Dic, recognizing the fact, released +her at once and she walked sullenly to a chair. According to the rude +etiquette of the time, she had insulted him.</p> + +<p>There had been so many upheavals in the game that the trouble between +Dic and Rita brought it to a close.</p> + +<p>Dic was wounded, and poor Rita felt that now she had driven him from her +forever. Her eyes followed him about the room with wistful longing, and +although they were eloquent enough to have told their piteous little +story to one who knew anything about the language of great tender eyes, +they spoke nothing but reproachfulness to Dic. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> did not go near her, +but after a time she went to him and said:—</p> + +<p>"I believe I will go home; but I am not afraid to go alone, and you need +not go with me—that is, if you don't want to."</p> + +<p>"I do want to go with you," he responded. "I would not let you ride by +yourself. Even should nothing harm you, the howling of a wolf would +frighten you almost to death."</p> + +<p>She had no intention of riding home alone. She knew she would die from +fright before she had ridden a hundred yards into the black forest, so +she said demurely:—</p> + +<p>"Of course, if you will go with me after—"</p> + +<p>"I would go with you after anything," he answered, but she thought he +spoke with a touch of anger.</p> + +<p>Had Dic ever hoped to gain more than a warm friendship from the girl +that hope had been shattered for all time, and never, never, never would +he obtrude his love upon her again. As a matter of fact, he had not +obtruded it upon her even once, but he had thought of doing it so many +times that he felt as if he had long been an importunate suitor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<h2>UNDER THE ELM CANOPY</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Under the Elm Canopy</span></h4> + + +<p>Dic and Rita rode home through the forest in silence. His anger soon +evaporated, and he was glad she had refused to pay the forfeit. He would +be content with the friendship that had been his since childhood, and +would never again risk losing it. What right had he, a great, uncouth +"clodhopper," to expect even friendship from so beautiful and perfect a +creature as the girl who rode beside him; and, taking it all in all, the +fault, thought he, lay entirely at his door. In this sombre mood he +resolved that he would remain unmarried all his life, and would be +content with the incompleted sweet of loving. He would put a guard upon +himself, his acts, his words, his passion. The latter was truly as noble +and pure as man ever felt for woman, but it should not be allowed to +estrange his friend. She should never know it; no, never, never, never.</p> + +<p>Rita's cogitations were also along the wrong track. During her silent +ride homeward the girl was thinking with an earnestness and a rapidity +that had never before been developed in her brain. She was, at times, +almost unconscious that Dic was riding beside her, but she was vividly +conscious of the fact that she would soon be home and that he also would +be there. She determined to do something before parting from him to make +amends for her conduct at the social. But what should she do? Hence the +earnest and rapid intellection within the drooping head. She did not +regret having refused to kiss Dic. She would, under like circum<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>stances, +again act in the same manner. She regretted the circumstances. To her, a +kiss should be a holy, sacred thing, and in her heart she longed for the +time when it would be her duty and her privilege to give her lips to the +one man. But kissing games seemed to her little less than open and +public shame.</p> + +<p>She could not, for obvious reasons, tell Dic she was sorry she had +refused him, and she certainly would not mend matters by telling him she +was glad. Still less could she permit him to leave her in his present +state of mind. All together it was a terrible dilemma. If she could for +only one moment have a man's privilege to speak, she thought, it would +all be very simple. But she could not speak. She could do little more +than look, and although she could do that well, she knew from experience +that the language of her eyes was a foreign tongue to Dic.</p> + +<p>When they reached home, Dic lifted Rita from her saddle and stabled her +horse. When he came from the barn she was holding his horse and waiting +for him. He took the rein from her hands, saying:—</p> + +<p>"It seems almost a pity to waste such a night as this in the house. I +believe one might read by the light of the moon."</p> + +<p>"Yes," murmured the girl, hanging her head, while she meditatively +smoothed the grass with her foot.</p> + +<p>"It's neither warm nor cold—just pleasant," continued Dic.</p> + +<p>"No," she responded very softly.</p> + +<p>"But we must sleep," he ventured to assert.</p> + +<p>She would not contradict the statement. She was silent.</p> + +<p>"If the days could be like this night, work would be a pleasure," +observed Dic, desperately.</p> + +<p>"No," came the reply, hardly louder than a breath. She was not thinking +of the weather, but Dic stuck faithfully to the blessed topic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It may rain soon," he remarked confusedly. There was not a cloud in +sight.</p> + +<p>"Yes," breathed the pretty figure, smoothing the grass with her foot.</p> + +<p>"But—but, I rather think it will not," he said.</p> + +<p>The girl was silent. She didn't care if it snowed. She longed for him to +drop the subject of the weather and to say something that would give her +an opportunity to speak. Her manner, however, was most unassuring, and +convinced Dic that he had offended beyond forgiveness, while his +distant, respectful formality and persistency in the matter of the +weather almost convinced the girl that he was lost to her forever. Thus +they stood before each other, as many others have done, a pair of +helpless fools within easy reach of paradise. Dic's straightforward +habits of thought and action came to his aid, however, and he determined +to make at least one more effort to regain the girl's friendly regard. +He abandoned the weather and said somewhat abruptly:—</p> + +<p>"Rita, if I offended you to-night, I am sorry. I cannot tell you all the +pain I feel. When you dropped the handkerchief behind me, I thought—I +know I was wrong and should have known better at the time—but I +thought—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dic," she softly interrupted, still smoothing the grass with her +foot, "I am not offended; it is you."</p> + +<p>Had the serene yellow moon burst into a thousand blazing suns, Dic could +not have been more surprised.</p> + +<p>"Rita, do you mean it? Do you really mean it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"And were you afraid I was offended?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," again very softly.</p> + +<p>"And did you care?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," with an emphatic nod of the head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And do you—" he paused, and she hesitatingly whispered:—</p> + +<p>"Yes." She did not know what his question would have been; but whatever +he wished to ask, "Yes" would be her answer, so she gave it, and Dic +continued:—</p> + +<p>"Do you wish me to remain for a few minutes?"</p> + +<p>This time the "Yes" was given by a pronounced drooping of the head, but +she took his hand for an instant that she might not possibly be +misunderstood.</p> + +<p>Dic hitched his horse to the fence, and, turning to Rita, said:—</p> + +<p>"Shall we go over to the log by the river?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Ah, how many yeses she had for him that night, and yes is a sweet +word.</p> + +<p>When they were seated on the log the girl waited a reasonable time for +Dic to begin the conversation. He remained silent, and soon she +concluded to take the matter temporarily in her own hands. He had begun +a moment before, but had stopped; perhaps with a little help he would +begin again.</p> + +<p>"I was sure you were angry," she said, "and I thought you would not +forgive me this time. I have so often given you cause to dislike me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rita, I don't believe you know that you could not make me dislike +you. When I thought that—that you did not care for me, I was so grieved +that life seemed almost worthless, but I love you so dearly, Rita—" but +that was just what he had determined never, never to tell her. He +stopped midway in his unintentional confession, surprised that the girl +did not indignantly leave him. Her heart beat wofully. Breathing +suddenly became harder work than churning. She sat demurely by his side +on the log, only too willing to listen, with a dictionary full of +"Yeses" on the end of her tongue, and he sat beside her, unable for the +moment to think. After a long pause she determined to give him a fresh +start.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was in the wrong, Dic, and if you wish I'll apologize to you before +all who saw me. But I was frightened. I should not have gone into the +game. It may be right for other girls—I would not say that it is not +right—but for me, I know it would be a sin—a real sin. I am not wise, +but, Dic, something tells me that certain things cannot occupy a middle +ground. They must be holy and sacred, or they are sinful, and I—I did +not want it to—to happen then, because—because—" there she stopped +speaking. She had unintentionally used the word "then," with slight +emphasis; but slight as it was, it sent Dic's soul soaring heavenward, +buoyant with ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"Why, Rita, why did you not want it to happen—" he feared to say +"then," and it would seem from the new position of his arm, he also +feared she might fall backward off the log.</p> + +<p>"Because—because," came in soft whispers. The beautiful head was +drooped, and the face was hidden from even the birds and the moon, while +Dic's disengaged hand, out of an abundance of caution lest she might +fall, clasped hers.</p> + +<p>"Because—why, Rita?" he pleaded.</p> + +<p>Softly came the response, "Because I wanted to be alone with—with—you +when it—it happened." It happened before she had finished her sentence, +but when it was finished the head lay upon his shoulder, and the birds, +should they awaken, or the moon, or any one else, might see for aught +she cared. It was holy and sacred now, and she felt no shame: she was +proud. The transfer of herself had been made. She belonged to him, and +he, of course, must do with his own property as he saw fit. It was no +longer any affair of hers.</p> + +<p>The victory of complete surrender is sometimes all-conquering; at any +rate, Dic was subjugated for life. His situation was one that would be +hard to improve upon in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> the way of mere earthly bliss. Heaven may +furnish something better, and if it does, the wicked certainly have no +conception of what they are going to miss. Tom, for example, would never +have put buttons in the offering. Doug would not gamble and drink. Poor, +painted Nanon would starve rather than sin. Old man Jones, in the amen +corner, would not swindle his neighbor; nor would Wetmore, the Baptist, +practise the holy calling of shepherd, having in his breast the heart of +a wolf. We all, saving a woman here and there, have our sins, little and +great, and many times in the day we put in jeopardy that future bliss. +But I console myself with the hope that there is as much forgiveness in +heaven as there is sin on earth, save for the hypocrite. There may be +forgiveness even for him, but I trust not.</p> + +<p>I have done this bit of philosophizing that I might give Dic and Rita a +moment to themselves on the sycamore divan. You may have known the time +in your life when you were thankful for the sight of a dear friend's +back.</p> + +<p>There was little said between our happy couple for many minutes after +the explosion; but like a certain lady, who long ago resided for a time +in a beautiful garden, the girl soon began to tempt the man: not to eat +apples, for Rita was one of the "women here and there" spoken of above. +She was pure and sinless as the light of a star. Her tempting was of +another sort. Had Rita been Eve, there would have been no fall.</p> + +<p>After several efforts to speak, she said, "Now you will not go to New +York, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Rita," he responded confidently, "of course I'll go. There is more +reason now for my going than ever before."</p> + +<p>"Why more now than ever before?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>"Because I want money that I may support you," he responded. "I'll tell +you a great secret, Rita, but you must promise you will never tell it to +any one."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I promise—cross my heart," she answered, and Dic knew that wild horses +could not tear the secret from her girlish breast.</p> + +<p>"I'm studying law," continued Dic. "Billy Little has been buying law +books for me. They are too expensive for me to buy. He bought me +'Blackstone's Commentaries'—four large volumes." The big words tasted +good in his mouth, and were laden with sweetness and wisdom for her +ears.</p> + +<p>"I have read them twice," continued Dic. "He is going to buy 'Kent,' and +after that I'll take up works on pleading and special subjects. He has +consulted Mr. Switzer, and if I can save enough money to keep you and me +for two or three years in idleness, I am to go into Mr. Switzer's office +to learn the practice. It is a great and beautiful study."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it must be, Dic," cried the girl, delightedly. "To think that you +will be a lawyer. I have always known that you would some day be a great +man. Maybe you will be a judge, or a governor, or go to Congress."</p> + +<p>"That is hardly possible," responded Dic, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is possible," she responded very seriously. "Anything is +possible for you—even the presidency, and I'll help you. I will not be +a millstone, Dic. I'll help you. We'll work together—and you'll see +I'll help you."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, she began to help him at once by putting her arm coaxingly +over his shoulder, and saying:—</p> + +<p>"But if you are going to do all this you should not waste your time +leading horses to New York."</p> + +<p>"But you see, Rita," he responded, "I can make a lot of money by going, +and I shall see something of the world, as you heard Billy Little say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you would rather see the world than me?" queried the girl, drawing +away from him with an injured air, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>upon Dic, of course, vowed that +he would rather see her face than a thousand worlds.</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you stay where you can see it?" she asked poutingly.</p> + +<p>"Because, as I told you, I want to make money so that when I go into Mr. +Switzer's office I can support you—and the others—" He stopped, +surprised by his words.</p> + +<p>"The others? What others?" asked the girl. That was a hard question to +answer, and he undertook it very lamely.</p> + +<p>"You see, Rita," he stammered, "there will be—there might—there may +be—don't you know, Rita?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know, Dic. Why are you so mysterious? What +others—who—oh!" And she hid her face upon his breast, while her arms +stole gently about his neck.</p> + +<p>"You see," remarked Dic, speaking softly to the black waves of lustrous +hair, "I must take Iago's advice and put money in my purse. I have +always hoped to be something more than I am. Billy Little, who has been +almost a father to me, has burned the ambition into me. But with all my +yearning, life has never held a real purpose compared with that I now +have in you. The desire for fame, Rita, the throbbing of ambition, the +lust for gold and dominion, are considered by the world to be the great +motives of human action. But, Rita, they are all simply means to one +end. There is but one great purpose in life, and that is furnished to a +man by the woman he loves. Billy Little gave me the thought. It is not +mine. How he knew it, being an old bachelor, I cannot tell."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Billy Little has had the—the purpose and lost it," said Rita, +being quite naturally in a sentimental mood.</p> + +<p>"I wonder?" mused Dic.</p> + +<p>"Poor, dear old Billy Little," mused Rita. "But you will not go to New +York?" continued Miss Persistency.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dic had resolved, upon hearing Rita's first petition concerning the New +York trip, that he would be adamant. His resolution to go was built upon +the rock of expediency. It was best for him, best for Rita, that he +should go, and he had no respect for a poor, weak man who would permit a +woman to coax him from a clearly proper course. She should never coax +him out of doing that which was best for them both.</p> + +<p>"We'll discuss it at another time," he answered evasively, as he tried +to turn her face up toward him. But her face would not be turned, and +while she hid it on his breast she pushed his away, and said:—</p> + +<p>"No, we'll discuss it now. You must promise me that you will not go. If +you do not, I shall not like you, and you shall not—" She did not +finish the sentence, and Dic asked gently:—</p> + +<p>"I shall not—what, Rita?"</p> + +<p>"Anything," came the enlightening response from the face hidden on his +breast. "Besides, you will break my heart, and if you go, I'll know you +don't care for me. I'll know you have been deceiving me." Then the face +came up, and the great brown eyes looked pleadingly into his. "Dic, I've +leaned on you so long—ever since I was a child—that I have no strength +of my own; but now that I have given myself up to you, I—I cannot stand +alone, even for a day. If you go away from me now, it will break my +heart. I tell you it will."</p> + +<p>Dic felt her tears upon his hand, and soon he heard soft sobs and felt +their gentle convulsions within her breast. Of course the result was +inevitable; the combatants were so unevenly matched. Woman's tears are +the most potent resolvent know to chemistry. They will dissolve rocks of +resolution, and Dic's resolutions, while big with intent, were small in +flintiness, though he had thought well of them at the time they were +formed. He could not endure the pain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> inflicted by Rita's tears. He had +not learned how easy and useful tears are to women. They burned him.</p> + +<p>"Please, Rita, please don't cry," he pleaded.</p> + +<p>The tears, while they came readily and without pain, were honest; at any +rate, the girl being so young, they were not deliberately intended to be +useful. They were a part of her instinct of self-preservation.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, please, Rita. Your tears hurt me."</p> + +<p>"Then promise me you won't go to New York." I fear there is no getting +away entirely from the theory of utility. With evident intent to crowd +the battle upon a wavering foe, the tears came fast and furious.</p> + +<p>"Promise me," sobbed Rita; and I know you will love Dic better when I +tell you that he promised. Then the girl's face came up, and, I grieve +to say, the tears, having served their purpose, ceased at once.</p> + +<p>Next morning Dic went to see Billy Little and told him he had come to +have a talk. Billy locked the store door and the friends repaired to the +river. There they found a shady resting-place, and Billy, lighting his +pipe, said:—</p> + +<p>"Blaze away."</p> + +<p>"I know you will despise me," the young man began.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't," interrupted Billy. "You are human. I don't look for +unmixed good. If I did, I should not find it except once in a while in a +woman. What have you been doing? Go on." Billy leaned forward on his +elbows, placed the points of his fingers together, and, while waiting +for Dic to begin, hummed his favorite stanza concerning the braes of +Maxwelton.</p> + +<p>"Well," responded Dic, "I've concluded not to go to New York."</p> + +<p>Billy's face turned a shade paler as he took his pipe from his lips and +looked sadly at Dic. After a moment of scrutiny he said:—</p> + +<p>"I had hoped to get you off before it happened. It's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> <i>all</i> off now. You +might as well throw Blackstone into Blue."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" queried Dic. "Before what happened?"</p> + +<p>"Before Rita happened," responded Billy.</p> + +<p>"Rita?" cried Dic in astonishment. "How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"How do I know that spring follows winter?" asked Billy. "I had hoped +that winter would hold a little longer, and that I might get you off to +New York before spring's arrival."</p> + +<p>"Billy Little, you are talking in riddles," said Dic, pretending not to +understand. "Drop your metaphor and tell me what you mean."</p> + +<p>"You know well enough what I mean, but I'll tell you. I hoped that you +would go to New York before Rita came to you. There would have been +oceans of time after your return. She is very young, not much over +sixteen."</p> + +<p>"But you see, Billy Little, it was this way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know all about how it was. She cried and said you didn't care for +her, that you were breaking her heart, and wouldn't let you kiss her +till you gave her your promise. Oh, bless your soul, I know exactly how +it came about. Maxwelton's braes are um, um, um, um, yes, yes."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Rita?" asked Dic, who could not believe that she would +tell even Billy of the scene on the log.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have not seen her. How could I? It all happened last night +after the social, and it is now only seven A.M."</p> + +<p>"Billy Little, I believe you are a mind reader," said Dic, musingly.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not," replied Billy, with asperity. "Let's go back to the +store. You've told me all I want to know; but I don't blame you much +after all. You couldn't help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> it. No man could. But you'll die plowing +corn. Perhaps you'll be happier in a corn field than in a broader one. +Doubtless the best thing one can do is to drift. With all due reverence, +I am almost ready to believe that Providence made a mistake when it +permitted our race to progress beyond the pastoral age. Stick to your +ploughing, Dic. It's good, wholesome exercise, and Rita will furnish +everything else needful to your happiness."</p> + +<p>They walked silently back to the store. Dic, uninvited, entered and sat +down on a box. Billy distributed the morning mail and hummed Maxwelton +Braes. Then he arranged goods on the counter. Dic followed the little +old fellow with his eyes, but neither spoke. The younger man was waiting +for his friend to speak, and the friend was silent because he did not +feel like talking. He loved Dic and Rita with passionate tenderness. He +had almost brought them up from infancy, and all that was best in them +bore the stamp of his personality. Between him and Dic there was a +feeling near akin to that of father and son, but unfortunately Rita was +not a boy. Still more unfortunately the last year had added to her +already great beauty a magnetism that was almost mesmeric in its effect. +There had also been a ripening in the sweet tenderness of her gentle +manner, and if you will remember the bachelor heart of which I have +spoken, you will understand that poor Billy Little couldn't help it at +all, at all. God knows he would have helped it. The fault lay in the +girl's winsomeness; and if Billy's desire to send Dic off to New York +was not an unmixed motive, you must not blame Billy too severely. +Neither must you laugh at him; for he had the heart of a boy, and the +most boyish act in the world is to fall in love. Billy had never +misunderstood Rita's tenderness and love for him. There was no designing +coquetry in the girl. She had always since babyhood loved him, perhaps +better even than she loved her parents,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> and she delighted to show him +her affection. Billy had never been deceived by her preference, and of +course was careful that she should not observe the real quality of his +own regard for her. But the girl's love, such as she gave, was sweet to +him—oh, so sweet, this love of this perfect girl—and he, even he, old +and gray though he was, could not help longing for that which he knew +was as far beyond his reach as the bending rainbow is beyond the hand of +a longing child. He was more than fifty in years, but his heart was +young, and we, of course, all agree that he was very foolish +indeed—which truth he knew quite as well as we.</p> + +<p>So this disclosure of Dic's was a shock to Billy, although it was the +thing of all others he most desired should come to pass.</p> + +<p>"Are you angry, Billy Little?" asked Dic, feeling somewhat inclined to +laugh, though standing slightly in fear of his little friend.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," returned Billy. "Why should I be angry? It's no affair +of mine."</p> + +<p>"No affair of yours, Billy Little?" asked Dic, with a touch of distress +in his voice, though he knew that it was an affair very dear to Billy's +heart. "Do you really mean it?"</p> + +<p>"No, of course I don't mean it," returned Billy; "but I wish you +wouldn't bother me. Don't you see I'm at work?"</p> + +<p>Billy's conduct puzzled Dic, as well it might, and the young man turned +his face toward the door, determined to wait till an explanation should +come unsought.</p> + +<p>Billy's bachelor apartment—or apartments, as he called his single +room—was back of the store. There were his bed,—a huge, mahogany +four-poster,—his library, his bath-tub, a half-dozen good pictures in +oil and copper-plate, a pair of old fencing foils,—relics of his +university<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> days,—a piano, and a score of pipes. Under the bed was a +flat leather trunk, and on the floor a rich, though worn, velvet carpet. +Three or four miniatures on ivory rested on the rude mantel-shelf, and +in the middle of the room stood a mahogany table covered with +<i>Blackwood's Magazines</i>, pamphlets, letters, and books. In the midst of +this confusion on the table stood a pair of magnificent gold +candlesticks, each holding a half-burned candle, and over all was a +mantle of dust that would have driven a woman mad. Certainly the +contents of Billy's "apartments" was an incongruous collection to find +in a log-cabin of the wilderness.</p> + +<p>At the end of half an hour Billy called to Dic, saying:—</p> + +<p>"I wish you would watch the store for me. I'm going to my apartments for +a bit. If Mrs. Hawkins comes in, give her this bottle of calomel and +this bundle of goods. The calomel is a fippenny bit; the goods is four +shillin', but I don't suppose she'll want to pay for them. Don't take +coonskins. I won't have coonskins. If I can't sell my goods for cash, +I'll keep 'em. Butter and eggs will answer once in a while, if the +customer is poor and has no money, but I draw the line on coonskins. The +Hawkinses always have coonskins. I believe they breed coons, but they +can't trade their odoriferous pelts to me. If she has them, tell her to +take them to Hackett's. He'll trade for fishing worms, if she has any, +and then perhaps get more than his shoddy goods are worth. Well, here's +the calomel and the goods. Get the cash or charge them. There's a letter +in the C box for Seal Coble. Give it to Mrs. Hawkins, and tell her to +hand it to Seal as she drives past his house. Tell her to read it to the +old man. He doesn't know <i>a</i> from <i>x</i>. I doubt if Mrs. Hawkins does. But +you can tell her to read it—it will flatter her. I'll return when I'm +ready. Meantime, I don't want to be disturbed by any one. Understand?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Dic, and the worthy merchant disappeared, locking the +door behind him.</p> + +<p>Billy sat down in the arm-chair, leaned his head backward, and looked at +the ceiling for a few minutes; then, resting his elbows on his knees, he +buried his face in his hands. There he sat without moving for an hour. +At the end of that time he arose, drew the trunk from under the bed, +unlocked it, and raised the lid. A woman's scarf, several bundles of +letters, two teakwood boxes, ten or twelve inches square and three or +four inches deep, beautifully mounted in gold, and a dozen books neatly +wrapped in tissue paper, made up the contents. These articles seemed to +tell of a woman back somewhere in Billy's life; and if they spoke the +truth, there must have been grief along with her for Billy. For although +he was created capable of great joy, by the same token he could also +suffer the deepest grief.</p> + +<p>Out of the trunk came one of the gold-mounted boxes, and out of the box +came a package of letters neatly tied with a faded ribbon. Billy lifted +the package to his face and inhaled the faint odor of lavender given +forth; then he—yes, even he, Billy Little, quaint old cynic, pressed +the dainty bundle to his lips and breathed a sigh of mingled sorrow and +relief.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I knew they would help me," he said. "They always do. Whatever my +troubles, they always help me."</p> + +<p>He opened the package, and, after carefully reading the letters, bound +them again with the ribbon, and took from the box a small ivory jewel +case, an inch cube in size. From the ivory box he took a heavy plain +gold ring and went over to the chair, where he sat in bachelor +meditation, though far from fancy free.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he sprang from the chair, exclaiming: "I'll do it. I'll do it. +She would wish me to—I will, I will."</p> + +<p>He then went back to the storeroom, loitered behind the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> letter-boxes a +few minutes, called Dic back to him, and said:—</p> + +<p>"You are going to have one of the sweetest, best girls in all the world +for your wife," said he. "You are lucky, Dic, but she is luckier. When +you first told me of—of what happened last night, I was disappointed +because I saw your career simply knocked end over end. No man, having as +sweet a wife as Rita, ever amounted to anything, unless she happened to +be ambitious, and Rita has no more ambition than a spring violet. Such a +woman, unless she is ambitious, takes all the ambition out of a man. She +becomes sufficient for him. She absorbs his aspirations, and gives him +in exchange nothing but contentment. Of course, if she is ambitious and +sighs for a crown for him, she is apt to lead him to it. But Rita knows +how to do but one thing well—first conjugation, present infinitive, +<i>amare</i>. She knows all about that, and she will bring you mere +happiness—nothing else. By Jove, I'm sorry for you. You'll only be +happy."</p> + +<p>"But, Billy Little," cried Dic, "you have it wrong. Don't you see that +she will be an inspiration? She will fire me. I will work and achieve +greater things for her sake than I could possibly accomplish without +her."</p> + +<p>"That's why you're going to New York, is it?" asked Dic's cynical +friend.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, that was her first request, and—and, you must +understand—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand. I know she will coax you out of leaving her side +long enough to plow a corn row if you are not careful. There'll be happy +times for the weeds. Women of Rita's sort are like fire and water, Dic; +they are useful and delightful, but dangerous. No man, however wise, +knows their power. Egad! One of them would coax the face off of ye if +she wanted it, before you knew you had a face. It's their God-given +privilege to coax; but bless your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> soul, Dic, what a poor world this +would be without their coaxing. God pity the man who lacks it! Eh, Dic?" +Billy was thinking of his own loneliness.</p> + +<p>"Rita certainly knows how to coax," replied Dic. "And—and it is very +pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Have you an engagement ring for her?" asked Billy.</p> + +<p>"No," responded Dic, "I can't afford one now, and Rita doesn't expect +it. After I'm established in the law, I'll buy her a beautiful ring."</p> + +<p>"After you're established in the law! If the poor girl waits for +that—but she shan't wait. I have one here," said Billy, drawing forth +the ivory box. "I value it above all my possessions." His voice broke +piteously. "It is more precious to me ... than words can ... tell or ... +money can buy. It brought me ... my first great joy ... my first great +grief. I give it to you, Dic, that you may give it to Rita. Egad! I +believe I've taken a cold from the way my eyes water. There, there, +don't thank me, or I'll take it back. Now, I want to be alone. Damme, I +say, don't thank me. Get out of here, you young scoundrel; to come in +here and take my ring away from me! Jove! I'll have the law on you, the +law! Good-by."</p> + +<p>"I fear I should not have given them the ring," mused Billy when Dic had +gone.... "It might prove unlucky.... It came back to me because she was +forced to marry another.... I wonder if it will come back to Dic? +Nonsense! It is impossible.... Nothing can come between them.... But it +was a fatal ring for me.... I am almost sorry ... but it can bring no +trouble to Dic and Rita ... impossible. But I am almost sorry ... go +off, Billy Little; you are growing soft and superstitious ... but it +would break her heart. I wonder ... ah! nonsense. Maxwelton's braes are +bonny, um, um, um, um, um, um." And Billy first tried to sing his grief +away, then sought relief from his beloved piano.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE FIGHT BY THE RIVER SIDE</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Fight by the River Side</span></h4> + + +<p>Deep in the forest on the home path, Dic looked at the ring, and quite +forgot Billy Little, while he anticipated the pleasure he would take in +giving the golden token to Rita. He did not intend to be selfish, but +selfishness was a part of his condition. A great love is, and should be, +narrowing.</p> + +<p>That evening Dic walked down the river path to Bays's and, as usual, sat +on the porch with the family. Twenty-four hours earlier sitting on the +porch with the family would have seemed a delightful privilege, and the +moments would have been pleasure-winged. But now Mrs. Bays's profound +and frequently religious philosophizing was dull compared to what might +be said on the log down by the river bank.</p> + +<p>Tom, of course, talked a good deal. Among other things he remarked to +Dic:—</p> + +<p>"I 'lowed you'd never come back here again after the way Rita treated +you last night." Of course he did not know how exceedingly well Rita had +treated Dic last night.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was nothing," returned Dic. "Rita was right. I hope she will +always—always—" The sentence was hard to finish.</p> + +<p>"You hope she'll always treat you that-a-way?" asked Tom, derisively. "I +bet if you had her alone she wouldn't be so hard to manage—would you, +Rita?" Tom thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> himself a rare wit, and a mistake of that sort makes +one very disagreeable. Rita's face burned scarlet at Tom's witticism, +and Mrs. Bays promptly demanded of her daughter:—</p> + +<p>"What on earth are you talking about?" Poor Rita had not been talking at +all, and therefore made no answer. The demand was then made of Tom, but +in a much softer tone of voice:—</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Tom," his mother asked.</p> + +<p>"I'll not tell you. Rita and Dic may, but I'll not. I'm no tell-tale." +No, not he!</p> + +<p>The Chief Justice turned upon Rita, looked sternly over her glasses, and +again insisted:—</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing, girl? Tell me at once. I command you by the +duty you owe your mother."</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you, mother. Please don't ask," replied Rita, hanging her +head.</p> + +<p>"You can tell me, and you shall," cried the fond mother.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you, mother, and I won't. Please don't ask."</p> + +<p>"Do my ears deceive me? You refuse to obey your parents? 'Obey thy +father and thy mother that thy days may be long'—"</p> + +<p>Tom interrupted her: "Oh, mother, for goodness' sake, quit firing that +quotation at Rita. I'm sick of it. If it's true, I ought to have died +long ago. I don't mind you. Never did. Never will."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, Tom," answered his mother, meekly. "And this disobedient +girl shall mind me, too." Rita had never in all her life disobeyed a +command from either father or mother. She was obedient from habit and +inclination, and in her guileless, affectionate heart believed that a +terrific natural cataclysm of some sort would surely occur should she +even think of disobeying.</p> + +<p>With ostentatious deliberation Mrs. Bays folded her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> knitting and placed +it on the floor beside her; took off her spectacles, put them in the +case, and put the case in her pocket. Rita knew her mother was clearing +the decks for action and that Justice was coldly arranging to have its +own. So great was the girl's love and fear for this hard woman that she +trembled as if in peril.</p> + +<p>"Now, Margarita Fisher Bays," the Chief Justice began, glaring at the +trembling girl. When on the bench she addressed her daughter by her full +name in long-drawn syllables, and Rita's full name upon her mother's +lips meant trouble. But at the moment Mrs. Bays began her address from +the bench Billy Little came around the corner of the house and stopped +in front of the porch.</p> + +<p>Tom said, "Hello, Billy Little," Mr. Bays said, "Howdy," and Mrs. Bays +said majestically: "Good evening, Mr. Little. You have come just in time +to see the ungratefullest creature the world can produce—a disobedient +daughter."</p> + +<p>"I can't believe that you have one," smiled Billy.</p> + +<p>Rita's eyes flashed a look of gratitude upon her friend. Dic might not +be able to understand the language of those eyes, but Billy knew their +vocabulary from the smallest to the greatest word.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't believe it either," said Mrs. Bays, "if I had not just heard +her say it with my own ears."</p> + +<p>"Did she say it with your own ears?" interrupted Tom.</p> + +<p>"Now, Tom, please don't interrupt, my son," said Mrs. Bays. "She said to +her own mother, Mr. Little, 'I won't;' said it to her own mother who has +toiled and suffered and endured for her sake all her life long; to her +own mother who has nursed her and watched over her and tried to do her +duty according to the poor light that God has vouchsafed—and—and I've +been troubled with my heart all day."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rita, poor girl, had been troubled with her heart many days.</p> + +<p>"Yes, with my heart," continued the dutiful mother. "Dr. Kennedy says I +may drop any moment." (Billy secretly wished that Kennedy had fixed the +moment.) "And when I asked her to tell me what she did last night at the +social, she answered, 'I can't and won't.' I should have known better +than to let her go. She hasn't sense enough to be let out of my sight. +She lied to me about the social, too. She pretended that she did not +want to go, and she did want to go." That was the real cause of Mrs. +Margarita's anger. She suspected she had been duped into consenting, and +the thought had rankled in her heart all day.</p> + +<p>"You did want to go, didn't you?" snapped out the old woman.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, I did want to go," replied Rita.</p> + +<p>"There, you hear for yourself, Mr. Little. She lied to me, and now is +brazen enough to own up to it."</p> + +<p>Tom thought the scene very funny and laughed boisterously. Had Tom been +scolded, Rita would have wept.</p> + +<p>"Go it, mother," said Tom. "This is better than a jury trial."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tom, be still, son!" said Mrs. Bays, and then turning to Rita: "Now +you've got to tell me what happened at Scott's social. Out with it!"</p> + +<p>Rita and Dic were sitting near each other on the edge of the porch. Mr. +Bays and Tom occupied rocking-chairs, and Billy Little was standing on +the ground, hat in hand.</p> + +<p>"Tell me this instant," cried Mrs. Bays, rising from her chair and going +over to the girl, who shrank from her in fear. "Tell me, or +I'll—I'll—"</p> + +<p>"I can't, mother," the girl answered tremblingly. "I can't tell you +before all these—these folks. I'll tell you in the house."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You went into the kissing game. That's what you did," cried Mrs. Bays, +"and your punishment shall be to confess it before Mr. Little." Rita +began to weep, and answered gently:—</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, I did, but I did not—did not—" A just and injured wrath +gathered on the face of Justice.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I command you not?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you all about it, Mrs. Bays," interrupted Dic. "I coaxed her +to go in." (Rita's heart thanked him for the lie.) "The others all +insisted. One of the boys dragged her to the centre of the room and she +just had to go into the game. She only remained a short time, and what +Tom referred to is this: she would not allow any one to—to kiss her, +and she quit the game when she—she refused me."</p> + +<p>"She quit the game when it quit, I 'low. Isn't that right?" asked the +inquisitor.</p> + +<p>"The game stopped when she went out—"</p> + +<p>"I thought as much," replied Mrs. Bays, straightening up for the purpose +of delivering judgment. "Now go to bed at once, you disobedient, +indecent girl! I'm ashamed of you, and blush that Mr. Little should know +your wickedness."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please let me stay," sobbed Rita, but Mrs. Bays pointed to the door +and Rita rose, gave one glance to Dic, and went weeping to her room. Mr. +Bays said mildly:—</p> + +<p>"Margarita, you should not have been so hard on the girl."</p> + +<p>"Now, Tom Bays," responded the strenuous spouse, "I'll thank you not to +meddle with my children. I know my duty, and I'll do it. Lord knows I +wish I could shirk it as some people do, but I can't. I must do my duty +when the Lord is good enough to point it out, or my conscience will +smite me. There's many a person with my heart would sit by and let her +child just grow up in the wilder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>ness like underbrush; but I <i>must</i> do +my duty, Mr. Little, in the humble sphere in which Providence has placed +me. Give every man his just dues, and do my duty. That's all I know, Mr. +Little. 'Justice to all and punishment for sinners;' that's my motto and +my husband will tell you I live up to it." She looked for confirmation +to her spouse, who said regretfully:—</p> + +<p>"Yes, I must say that's true."</p> + +<p>"There," cried triumphant Justice. "You see, I don't boast. I despise +boasting." She took up her knitting, put on her glasses, closed her +lips, and thus announced that court was also closed.</p> + +<p>Poor Rita, meantime, was sobbing, upstairs at her window.</p> + +<p>After a long, awkward silence, Billy Little addressed Dic. "I came up to +spend the night with you, and if you are going home, I'll walk and lead +my horse. I suppose you walked down?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Dic; "I'll go with you."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to carry off your company, Mrs. Bays," said Billy, "but I +want to—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dic's no company; he's always here. I don't know where he finds +time to work. I'd think he'd go to see the girls sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Rita's a girl, isn't she?" asked Billy, glancing toward Dic.</p> + +<p>"Rita's only a child, and a disobedient one at that," replied Mrs. Bays, +but Billy's words put a new thought into her head that was almost sure +to cause trouble for Rita.</p> + +<p>When Billy and Dic went around the house to fetch Billy's horse, Rita +was sitting at the window upstairs. She smiled through her tears and +tossed a note to Dic, which he deciphered by the light of the moon. It +was brief, "Please meet me to-morrow at the step-off—three o'clock."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>The step-off was a deep hole in the river halfway between Bays's and +Bright's.</p> + +<p>Dic and Billy walked up the river path a little time in silence. Billy +was first to speak.</p> + +<p>"I consider," said he, "that profane swearing is vulgar, but I must say +damn that woman. What an inquisitor she would make. I hope Kennedy is +right about her heart. Think of her as your mother-in-law!"</p> + +<p>"When Rita is my wife," replied Dic, "I'll protect her, if I have +to—to—"</p> + +<p>"What will you do, Dic?" asked Billy. "Such a woman is utterly +unmanageable. You see, the trouble is, that she believes in herself and +is honest by a species of artificial sincerity. Show me a stern, hard +woman who is bent on doing her duty, her whole duty, and nothing but her +duty, and I'll show you a misery breeder. Did you give Rita the ring?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't had the chance," answered Dic. "I'll do it to-morrow. Billy +Little, I want to thank you—you must let me tell you what I think, or +I'll burst."</p> + +<p>"Burst, then," returned Billy. "I'd rather be kicked than thanked. I +knew how Rita and you would feel, or I should not have given you the +ring. Do you suppose I would have parted with it because of a small +motive? Have you told the Chief Justice?"</p> + +<p>"No; she will learn when she sees the ring on Rita's finger."</p> + +<p>Silence then ensued, which was broken after a few minutes by Billy +Little humming under his breath, "Maxwelton's braes are bonny." Dic soon +joined in the sweet refrain, and, each encouraging the other, they +swelled their voices and allowed the tender melody to pour forth. I can +almost see them as they walked up the river path, now in the black +shadow of the forest, and again near the gurgling water's edge, in the +yellow light of the moon. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> warm, delicious air was laden with the +odor of trees and sweetbrier, and to the song the breath of the south +wind played an accompaniment of exquisite cadence upon the leaves. I +seem to hear them singing,—Billy's piping treble, plaintive, quaint, +and almost sweet, carrying the tenor to Dic's bass. There was no +soprano. The concert was all tenor and bass, south wind, and rustling +leaves. The song helped Dic to express his happiness, and enabled Billy +to throw off the remnants of his heartache. Music is a surer antidote to +disappointment, past, present, and future, than the philosophy of all +the Stoics that ever lived; and if all who know the truth of that +statement were to read these pages, Billy Little would have many +millions of sympathizers.</p> + +<p>Dic did not neglect Rita's note, but read it many times after he had +lighted the candle in the loft where he and Billy were to sleep. Long +after Billy had gone to bed Dic sat up, thinking of Rita, and anon +replenishing his store of ecstasy from the full fountain of her note. +After an unreasonable period of waiting Billy said:—</p> + +<p>"If you intend to sit there all night, I wish you would smother the +candle. It's filling the room with bugs. Here is a straddle-bug of some +sort that's been trying to saw my foot off."</p> + +<p>"In a moment, Billy Little," answered Dic. The moment stretched into +many minutes, until Billy, growing restive, threw his shoe at the candle +and felled it in darkness to the floor. Dic laughed and went to bed, and +Billy fell into so great a fit of laughter that he could hardly check +it. Neither slept much, and by sun-up Billy was riding homeward.</p> + +<p>That he might be sure to be on time, Dic was at the step-off by +half-past two, and five minutes later Rita appeared. The step-off was at +a deep bend in the river where the low-hanging water-elm, the redbud, +and the dog<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>wood, springing in vast luxuriance from the rich bottom +soil, were covered by a thick foliage of wild grape-vines.</p> + +<p>"The river path," used only as a "horse road" and by pedestrians, left +the river at the upper bend, crossing the narrow peninsula formed by the +winding stream, and did not intrude upon the shady nook of raised ground +at the point of the peninsula next the water's edge. There was, however, +a horse path—wagon roads were few and far apart—on the opposite side +of the river. This path was little used, save by hunters, the west side +of the river being government land, and at that time a vast stretch of +unbroken forest. Rita had chosen the step-off for her trysting-place +because of its seclusion, and partly, perhaps, for the sake of its +beauty. She and Dic could be seen only from the opposite side of the +river, and she thought no one would be hunting at that time of the year. +The pelts of fur-giving animals taken then were unfit for market. +Venison was soft, and pheasants and turkeys were sitting. There would be +nothing she would wish to conceal in meeting Dic; but the instinct of +all animate nature is to do its love-making in secret.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dic," said the girl, after they were seated on a low, rocky bench +under a vine-covered redbud, "oh, Dic, I did so long to speak to you +last night. After what happened night before last—it seems ages ago—I +have lived in a dream, and I wanted to talk to you and assure myself +that it is all true and real."</p> + +<p>"It is as real as you and I, Rita, and I have brought you something that +will always make you know it is real."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it wonderful, Dic?" said the girl, looking up to him with a +childish wistfulness of expression that would always remain in her eyes. +"Isn't it wonderful that this good fortune has come to me? I can hardly +realize that it is true."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I am the one to whom the good fortune has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> really come," +replied Dic. "You are so generous that you give me yourself, and that is +the richest present on earth."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you are so generous that you take me. I cannot understand it +all yet; I suppose I shall in time. But what have you brought that will +make me know it is all real?"</p> + +<p>Dic then brought forth the ivory box and held it behind him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is it?" cried the girl, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Give me your hand," commanded Dic. The hand was promptly surrendered.</p> + +<p>"Now close your eyes," he continued. The eyes were closed, very, very +honestly. Rita knew no other way of doing anything, and never so much as +thought of peeping. Then Dic lifted the soft little hand to his lips, +and slipped the gold band on the third finger.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know what it is now," she cried delightedly, but she would not +look till Dic should say "open." "Open" was said, and the girl +exclaimed:—</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dic, where did you get it?"</p> + +<p>Bear this fact in mind: If you live among the trees, the wild flowers, +and the birds, you will always remain a child. Rita was little more than +a child in years, and I know you will love Dic better because within his +man's heart was still the heart of his childhood. The great oak of the +forest year by year takes on its encircling layer of wood, but the +layers of a century still enclose the heart of a sprig that burst forth +upon a spring morning from its mother acorn.</p> + +<p>For a moment after Rita asked Dic where he got the ring he regretted he +had not bought it, but he said:—</p> + +<p>"Billy Little gave it to me that I might give it to you; so it really is +his present."</p> + +<p>A shade of disappointment spread over her face, but it lasted only a +moment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But you give it to me," she said. "It was really yours, and you give it +to me. I am almost glad it comes from Billy Little. He has been so much +to me. You are by nature different from other men, but the best +difference we owe to Billy Little." The pronoun "we" was significant. It +meant that she also was Billy Little's debtor for the good he had +brought to Dic, since now that wonderful young man belonged to her.</p> + +<p>"I wonder where he got it?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied Dic. "He said he valued it above all else he +possessed, and told me it had brought him his sweetest joy and his +bitterest grief. I think he gave it to a sweetheart long years ago, and +she was compelled to return it and to marry another man. I am only +guessing. I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we had better not keep it," returned the girl, with a touch of +her forest-life superstition. "It might bring the same fate to us. I +could not bear it, Dic, now. I should die. Before you spoke to +me—before that night of Scott's social—it would have been hard enough +for me to—to—but now, Dic, I couldn't bear to lose you, nor to marry +another. I could not; indeed, I could not. Let us not keep the ring."</p> + +<p>Dic's ardor concerning the ring was dampened, but he said:—</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Rita, you surprise me. Nothing can come between us."</p> + +<p>"I fear others have thought the same way. Perhaps Billy Little and his +sweetheart"—she was almost ready for tears.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but what can come between us? Your parents, I hope, won't object. +Mine won't, and we don't—do we?" said Dic, argumentatively.</p> + +<p>"Ah," answered Rita with her lips, but her eyes, whose language Dic was +beginning to comprehend, said a great deal more than can be expressed in +mere words.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then what save death can separate us?" asked Dic. "We would offend +Billy Little by returning the ring, and it looks pretty on your finger. +Don't you like it, Rita?"</p> + +<p>"Y-e-s," she responded, her head bent doubtingly to one side, as she +glanced down at the ring.</p> + +<p>"You don't feel superstitious about it, do you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"N-o-o."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll keep it, won't we?"</p> + +<p>"Y-e-s."</p> + +<p>He drew the girl toward him and she turned her face upward.</p> + +<p>He would have kissed her had he not been startled by a call from the +opposite side of the river.</p> + +<p>"Here, here, stop that. That'll never do. Too fine-haired and modest for +a kissing game, but mighty willin' when all alone. We'll come over and +get into the game ourselves."</p> + +<p>Dic and Rita looked up quickly and saw the huge figure of Doug Hill +standing on the opposite bank with a gun over his shoulder and a bottle +of whiskey in his uplifted hand. By his side was his henchman, Patsy +Clark. The situation was a trying one for Dic. He could not fight the +ruffian in Rita's presence, and he had no right to tell him to move on. +So he paid no attention to Doug's hail, and in a moment that worthy +Nimrod passed up the river. Dic and Rita were greatly frightened, and +when Doug passed out of sight into the forest they started home. They +soon reached the path and were walking slowly down toward Bays's, when +they were again startled by the disagreeable voice of the Douglas. This +time the voice came from immediately back of them, and Dic placed +himself behind Rita.<br /><br /></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 412px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/fig_003.png" width="412" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'I've come to get my kiss,' said Doug."</span> +</div> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p>"I've come to get my kiss," said Doug, laughing boisterously. He was +what he called "full"; not drunk, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> "comfortable," which meant +uncomfortable for those who happened to be near him. "I've come for my +kiss," he cried again.</p> + +<p>"You'll not get it," answered Rita, who was brave when Dic was between +her and her foe. Dic, wishing to avoid trouble, simply said, "I guess +not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you guess not?" said Doug, apparently much amused. "You guess not? +Well, we'll see, Mr. Fine-hair; we'll see." Thereupon, he rested his gun +against a tree, stepped quickly past Dic, and seized Rita around the +waist. He was drawing her head backward to help himself when Dic knocked +him down. Patsy Clark then sprang upon Dic, and, in imitation of his +chief, fell to the ground. Doug and Patsy at once rose to their feet and +rushed toward Dic. Rita screamed, as of course any right-minded woman +would have done, and, clasping her hands in terror, looked on fascinated +and almost paralyzed. Patsy came first and again took a fall. This time, +from necessity or inclination,—probably the latter,—he did not rise, +but left the drunken Douglas to face Dic single-handed and alone. Though +tall and strong, Dic was by no means the equal of Doug in the matter of +bulk, and in a grappling match Doug could soon have killed him. Dic +fully understood this, and, being more active than his huge foe, +endeavored to keep him at arm's length. In this he was successful for a +time; but at last the grapple came, and both men fell to the +ground—Doug Hill on top. Poor Rita was in a frenzy of terror. She could +not even scream. She could only press her hands to her heart and look. +When Dic and Doug fell to the ground, Patsy Clark, believing himself +safe, rose to a sitting posture, and Doug cried out to him:—</p> + +<p>"Give me your knife, Patsy, give me your knife." Patsy at once responded +by placing his hunting-knife in Doug's left hand. Dic saw his imminent +danger and with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> his right hand clasped Doug's left wrist in a grasp +that could not be loosened. After several futile attempts to free his +wrist, Doug tossed the knife over to his right side. It fell a few +inches beyond his reach, and he tried to grasp it. Rita saw that very +soon he would reach the knife, and Dic's peril brought back her presence +of mind. Doug put forth terrific efforts to reach the knife, and, +despite Dic's resistance, soon had it in his grasp. In getting the +knife, however, Doug gave Dic an opportunity to throw him off, and he +did so, quickly springing to his feet. Doug was on his feet in a +twinkling, and rushed upon Dic with uplifted knife. Dic knew that he +could not withstand the rush, and thought his hour had come; but the +sharp crack of a rifle broke the forest silence, and the knife fell from +Doug's nerveless hand, his knees shook under him, his form quivered +spasmodically for a moment, and he plunged forward on his face. Dic +turned and saw Rita standing back of him, holding Doug's rifle to her +shoulder, a tiny curl of blue smoke issuing from the barrel. The girl's +face turned pale, the gun fell from her hands, her eyes closed, and she +would have fallen had not Dic caught her in his arms. He did not so much +as glance at Doug, but at once carried the unconscious Rita home with +all the speed he could make.</p> + +<p>"Now for goodness' sake, what has she been doing?" cried Mrs. Bays, as +Dic entered the front door with his almost lifeless burden. "That girl +will be the death of me yet."</p> + +<p>"She has fainted," replied Dic, "and I fear she's dead."</p> + +<p>With a wild scream Mrs. Bays snatched Rita from Dic's arms in a frenzy +of grief that bore a touch of jealousy. In health and happiness Rita for +her own good must bow beneath the rod; but in sickness or in death Rita +was her child, and no strange hand should minister to her. A blessed +philosopher's stone had for once transmuted her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> hard, barren sense of +justice to glowing love. She carried the girl into the house and applied +restoratives. After a little time Rita breathed a sigh and opened her +eyes. Her first word was "Dic!"</p> + +<p>"Here I am, Rita," he softly answered, stepping to her bedside and +taking her hand. Mrs. Bays, after her first inquiry, had asked no +questions, and Dic had given no information. After Rita's return to +consciousness tears began to trickle down her mother's furrowed cheek, +and, ashamed of her weakness, she left the room. Dic knelt by Rita's bed +and kissed her hands, her eyes, her lips. His caresses were the best of +all restoratives, and when Mrs. Bays returned, Rita was sitting on the +edge of the bed, Dic's arm supporting her and her head resting on his +shoulder. Mrs. Bays came slowly toward them. The girl's habitual fear of +her mother returned, and lifting her head she tried to move away from +Dic, but he held her. Mrs. Bays reached the bedside and stood facing +them in silence. The court of love had adjourned. The court of justice +was again in session. She snatched up Rita's hand and pointed to the +ring.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" she asked sternly.</p> + +<p>"That is our engagement ring," answered Dic. "Rita has promised to be my +wife."</p> + +<p>"Never!" cried the old woman, out of the spirit of pure antagonism. +"Never!" she repeated, closing her lips in a spasm of supposed duty. +Rita's heart sank, and Dic's seemed heavier by many pounds than a few +moments before, though he did not fear the apostle of justice and duty +as did Rita. He hoped to marry Rita at once with her mother's consent; +but if he could not have that, he would wait until the girl was +eighteen, when she could legally choose for herself. Out of his +confidence came calmness, and he asked,</p> + +<p>"Why shall not Rita be my wife? She shall want for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> nothing, and I will +try to make her happy. Why do you object?"</p> + +<p>"Because—because I do," returned Mrs. Bays.</p> + +<p>"In so important a matter as this, Mrs. Bays, 'because' is not a +sufficient reason."</p> + +<p>"I don't have to give you a reason," she answered sharply.</p> + +<p>"You are a good woman, Mrs. Bays," continued Dic, with a deliberate and +base intent to flatter. "No man or woman has ever had injustice at your +hands, and I, who am almost your son, ask that justice which you would +not refuse to the meanest person on Blue."</p> + +<p>The attack was unfair. Is it ever fair to gain our point by flattering +another's weakness? Dic's statement of the case was hard to evade, so +Mrs. Margarita answered:—</p> + +<p>"The girl's too young to marry. I'll never consent. I'll have nothing of +the sort going on, for a while at any rate; give him back the ring."</p> + +<p>Rita slipped the ring from her finger and placed it in Dic's hand.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me," Mrs. Bays demanded, "how this came about? How came Rita +to faint?"</p> + +<p>Rita hung her head and began to weep convulsively.</p> + +<p>"Rita and I," answered Dic, "were walking home down the river path. We +had been sitting near the step-off. Doug Hill and Patsy Clark came up +behind us, and Doug tried to kiss Rita. I interfered, and we fought. He +was about to kill me with Patsy's hunting-knife when—when—when I shot +him. Then Rita fainted, and I feared she was dead, so I brought her home +and left Doug lying on his face, with Patsy Clark standing over him."</p> + +<p>Rita so far recovered herself as to be able to say:—</p> + +<p>"No, mother, I killed him."</p> + +<p>"You," shrieked Mrs. Bays, "you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the girl replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Dic to Mrs. Bays's incredulous look, "that was the way of +it, but I was the cause, and I shall take the blame. You had better not +speak of this matter to any one till we have consulted Billy Little. I +can bear the blame much better than Rita can. When the trial comes, you +and Rita say nothing. I will plead guilty to having killed Doug Hill, +and no questions will be asked."</p> + +<p>"If you will do it, Dic, if you will do it," wailed Mrs. Bays.</p> + +<p>"I certainly will," returned Dic.</p> + +<p>"No, you shall not," said Rita.</p> + +<p>"You must be guided by your mother and me," replied Dic. "I know what is +best, and if you will do as we direct, all may turn out better than we +now hope. He was about to kill me, and I had a right to kill him. I do +not know the law certainly, but I fear you had no right to kill him in +my defence. I have read in the law books that a man may take another's +life in the defence of one whom he is bound to protect. I fear you had +no right to kill Doug Hill for my sake."</p> + +<p>"I had, oh, I had!" sobbed Rita.</p> + +<p>"But you will be guided by your mother and me, will you not, Rita?" +Despite fears of her mother, the girl buried her face on Dic's breast, +and entwining her arms about his neck whispered:—</p> + +<p>"I will be guided by you."</p> + +<p>Dic then arose and said: "It may be that Doug is not dead. I will take +one of your horses, Mrs. Bays, and ride to town for Dr. Kennedy."</p> + +<p>Within ten minutes Dic was with Billy Little, telling him the story. +"I'm going for Kennedy," said Dic. "Saddle your horse quickly and ride +up with us."</p> + +<p>Five minutes later, Dic, Kennedy, and Billy Little were galloping +furiously up the river to the scene of battle. When they reached it, +Doug, much to Dic's joy, was seated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> leaning against a tree. His shirt +had been torn away, and Patsy was washing the bullet wound in the breast +and back, for the bullet had passed entirely through Doug's body.</p> + +<p>"Well, he's not dead yet," cried Kennedy. "So far, so good. Now we'll +see if I can keep from killing him."</p> + +<p>While the doctor was at work Dic took Billy to one side. "I told Mrs. +Bays and Rita not to speak about this affair," he said. "I will say upon +the trial that I fired the shot."</p> + +<p>"Why, Dic, that will never do."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will; it must. You see, I had a good right to kill him, but +Rita had not. At any rate, don't you know that they might as well kill +Rita at once as to try her? She couldn't live through a trial for +murder. It would kill her or drive her insane. I'll plead guilty. That +will stop all questioning."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Billy, deep in revery, and stroking his chin; "perhaps +you are right. But how about Hill and Clark? They will testify that Rita +did the shooting."</p> + +<p>"No one will have the chance to testify if I plead guilty," said Dic.</p> + +<p>"And if Doug should die, you may hang or go to prison for life on a mere +unexplained plea of guilty. That shall never happen with my consent."</p> + +<p>"Billy Little, you can't prevent it. I'll make a plea of guilty," +responded Dic, sharply; "and if you try to interfere, I'll never speak +your name again, as God is my help."</p> + +<p>Billy winced. "No wonder she loves you," he said. "I'll not interfere. +But take this advice: say nothing till we have consulted Switzer. Don't +enter a plea of guilty. You must be tried. I believe I have a plan that +may help us."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Billy Little?" asked Dic, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I'll not tell you now. Trust me for a time without questions, Dic. I am +good for something, I hope."</p> + +<p>"You are good for everything concerning me, Billy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> Little," said Dic. "I +will trust you and ask no questions."</p> + +<p>"Little," said Kennedy, "if you will make a stretcher of boughs we will +carry Hill up to Bright's house and take him home in a wagon. I think he +may live." Accordingly, a rude litter was constructed, and the four men +carried the wounded Douglas to Dic's house, where he was placed upon a +couch of hay in a wagon, and taken to his home, two or three miles +eastward.</p> + +<p>On the road over, Billy Little asked Dr. Kennedy to lead his horse while +he talked to Patsy Clark, who was driving in the wagon.</p> + +<p>"How did Dic happen to shoot him?" asked Billy when he was seated beside +Patsy.</p> + +<p>"D-Dic d-di-didn't shoot him. Ri-ta did," stuttered Doug's henchman.</p> + +<p>"No, Patsy, it was Dic," said Billy Little.</p> + +<p>"I-I re-reckon I or-orter know," stammered Patsy. "I-I was there and +s-saw it. You wasn't."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong, Patsy," insisted Billy.</p> + +<p>"B-by Ned, I re-reckon I know," he returned.</p> + +<p>"Now listen to me, Patsy," said Billy, impressively. "I say you are +wrong, and—by the way, Patsy, I want you to do a few little odd jobs +about the store for the next month or so. I'll not need you frequently, +but I should like to have you available at any time. If you will come +down to the store, I will pay you twenty dollars wages in advance, and +later on I will give you another twenty. You are a good fellow, and I +want to help you; but I am sure you are wrong in this case. I know it +was Dic who fired the shot. Now, think for a moment. Wasn't it Dic?"</p> + +<p>"We-well, c-come to think a-a-about it, I believe you're right. Damned +if I don't. He t-tuk the gun and jes' b-b-blazed away."</p> + +<p>"I knew that was the way of it," said Billy, quietly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"B-betch yur life it was jes' that-a-way. H-how the h——did you know?"</p> + +<p>"Dic told me," answered Billy.</p> + +<p>"Well, that-a-a-a-way was the way it was, sure as you're alive."</p> + +<p>"You're sure of it now, Patsy, are you?"</p> + +<p>"D-dead sure. Wa-wa-wasn't I there and d-d-didn't I see it all? Yes, +sir, d-d-dead sure. And the tw-twenty dollars? I'll g-get it to-morrow, +you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"A-and the other t-t-twenty? I'll get it later, eh?"</p> + +<p>"You can trust me, can't you, Patsy?" queried Billy.</p> + +<p>"B-betch yur life I can. E-e-e-everybody does. B-but how much later?"</p> + +<p>"When it is all over," answered Billy.</p> + +<p>"A-all right," responded his stuttering friend.</p> + +<p>"But," asked Billy, "if Doug recovers, and should think as you did at +first, that Rita fired the shot?"</p> + +<p>"Sa-sa-say, B-Billy Little, you couldn't make it another t-t-twenty +later on for that ere job about the st-store, could ye?"</p> + +<p>"I think I can," returned Billy.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Doug'll g-get it straight—never you f-f-fear. He was crazy +drunk and ha-ha-half blind with blood where Dic knocked him, and he +didn't know who f-f-fired the shot."</p> + +<p>"But suppose he should know?"</p> + +<p>"B-but he won't know, I-I tell ye. I-I t-trust you; c-can't you trust +Patsy? I-I'm not as big a f-fool as I look. I-I let p-people think I'm a +fool because when p-people think you're a f-fool, it's lots easier +t-t-to work 'em. See?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Billy left Doug hovering between life and death, and hurried back to +Dic. "Patsy says you took the gun from where it was leaning against the +tree and shot Hill. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> suppose he doesn't know exactly how it did +happen. I told him you said that was the way of it, and he assents. He +says Doug doesn't know who fired the shot. We shall be able to leave +Rita entirely out of the case, and you may, with perfect safety, enter a +plea of self-defence."</p> + +<p>Dic breathed a sigh of relief and longed to thank Billy, but dared not, +and the old friend rode homeward unthanked but highly satisfied.</p> + +<p>On the way home Billy fell into deep thought, and the thoughts grew into +mutterings: "Billy Little, you are coming to great things. A briber, a +suborner of perjury, a liar. I expect soon to hear of you stealing. +Burglary is a profitable and honorable occupation. Go it, Billy +Little.—And for this you came like a wise man out of the East to leaven +the loaf of the West—all for the sake of a girl, a mere child, whom you +are foolish enough to—nonsense—and for the sake of the man she is to +marry." Then the grief of his life seemed to come back to him in a +flood, and he continued almost bitterly: "I don't believe I have led an +evil life. I don't want to feel like a Pharisee; but I don't recollect +having injured any man or woman in the whole course of my miserable +existence, yet I have missed all that is best in life. Even when I have +not suffered, my life has been a pale, tasteless blank with nothing but +a little poor music and worse philosophy to break the monotony. The +little pleasure I have had from any source has been enjoyed alone, and +no joy is complete unless one may give at least a part of it to another. +If one has a pleasure all to himself, he is apt to hate it at times, and +this is one of the times. Billy Little, you must be suffering for the +sins of an ancestor. I wonder what he did, damn him."</p> + +<p>This mood was unusual for Billy. In his youth he had been baptized with +the chrism of sorrow and was safe from the devil of discontent. He was +by nature an apostle of sunshine; but when we consider all the facts, I +know you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> will agree with me that he had upon this occasion good right +to be a little cloudy.</p> + +<p>That evening Dic was arrested and held in jail pending Doug Hill's +recovery or death. Should Douglas die, Dic would be held for murder and +would not be entitled to bail. In case of conviction for premeditated +murder, death or imprisonment for life would be his doom. If Doug should +recover, the charge against Dic would be assault and battery, with +intent to commit murder, conviction for which would mean imprisonment +for a term of years. If self-defence could be established—and owing to +the fact that neither Dic nor Rita was to testify, that would be +difficult to accomplish—Dic would go free. These enormous "ifs" +complicated the case, and Dic was detained in jail till Doug's fate +should be known.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE TRIAL</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Trial</span></h4> + + +<p>I shall not try to tell you of Rita's suffering. She wept till she could +weep no more, and the nightmare of suspense settled on her heart in the +form of dry-eyed suffering. She could not, even for a moment, free her +mind from the fact that Dic was in jail and that his life was in peril +on account of her act. Billy went every day to encourage her and to keep +her silent by telling her that Dic would be cleared. Mrs. Bays +prohibited her from visiting the jail; but, despite Rita's fear of her +mother, the girl would have gone had not Dic emphatically forbidden.</p> + +<p>Doug recovered, and, court being then in session, Dic's trial for +assault and battery, with intent to commit murder, came up at once. I +shall not take you through the tedious details of the trial, but will +hasten over such portions as closely touch the fate of our friends.</p> + +<p>Upon the morning of Dic's arraignment he was brought into court and the +jury was empanelled. Rita had begged piteously to go to the trial, but +for many reasons that privilege was denied. The bar was filled with +lawyers, and the courtroom was crowded with spectators. Mr. Switzer +defended Dic, who sat near him on the right hand of the judge, the +State's attorney, with Doug Hill and Patsy Clark, the prosecuting +witnesses, sitting opposite on the judge's left. The jury sat opposite +the judge, and between the State's attorney and Mr. Switzer and the +judge and the jury was an open space fifteen feet square. On a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> raised +platform in this vacant space was the witness chair, facing the jury.</p> + +<p>Doug Hill and Patsy Clark were the only witnesses for the State. The +defendant had summoned no witnesses, and Dic's fate rested in the hands +of his enemy and his enemy's henchman.</p> + +<p>Patsy and Doug had each done a great deal of talking, and time and again +had asserted that Dic had deliberately shot Doug Hill after the fight +was over. Mr. Switzer's only hope seemed to be to clear Dic on +cross-examination of Doug and Patsy.</p> + +<p>"Not one lie in a hundred can survive a hot cross-examination," he said. +"If a woman is testifying for the man she loves, or for her child, she +will carry the lie through to the end without faltering. Every instinct +of her nature comes to her help; but a man sooner or later bungles a lie +if you make him angry and keep at him."</p> + +<p>Doug was the first witness called. He testified that after the fight was +over Dic snatched up the gun and said, "I'm going to kill you;" that he +then fired the shot, and that afterward Doug remembered nothing. The +story, being simple, was easily maintained, and Mr. Switzer's +cross-examination failed to weaken the evidence. Should Patsy Clark +cling to the same story as successfully, the future looked dark for Dic.</p> + +<p>When Doug left the stand at noon recess, Billy rode up to see Rita, and +in the course of their conversation the girl discovered his fears. +Billy's dark forebodings did not affect her as he supposed they would. +He had expected tears and grief, but instead he found a strange, +unconcerned calmness that surprised and puzzled him. Soon after Billy's +departure Rita saddled her horse and rode after him. Mrs. Bays forbade +her going, but for the first time in her life the girl sullenly refused +to answer her mother, and rode away in dire rebellion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>Court convened at one o'clock, and Patsy Clark was called to the stand. +The State's attorney began his examination-in-chief:—</p> + +<p><i>Question.</i>—"State your name."</p> + +<p><i>Answer by Patsy.</i>—"Sh-shucks, ye know my name."</p> + +<p>"State your name," ordered the Court.</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"Pa-Pa-Patsy C-Clark."</p> + +<p><i>Question by State's Attorney.</i>—"Where do you live?"</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"North of t-t-town, with D-Doug Hill's father."</p> + +<p><i>Question.</i>—"Where were you, Mr. Clark, on fifth day of last month at +or near the hour of three o'clock <span class="smcap">P.M.</span>?"</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"Don't know the day, b-but if you mean the d-day Doug and +D-Dic had their fight, I-I was up on B-Blue about halfway b-between Dic +Bright's house and T-Tom Bays', at the step-off."</p> + +<p><i>Question.</i>—"What, if anything, occurred at that time and place?"</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"A f-fight—damned bad one."</p> + +<p><i>Question.</i>—"Who fought?"</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"D-Doug Hill and D-Dic Bright."</p> + +<p><i>Question.</i>—"Now, Mr. Clark, tell the jury all you heard and saw take +place, in the presence of the defendant Dic Bright, during that fight."</p> + +<p>The solemnity of the Court had made a deep impression on Patsy, and he +trembled while he spoke. He was angry because the State's attorney, as +he supposed, had pretended not to know his name, whereas that self-same +State's attorney had been familiar with him prior to the election.</p> + +<p>"We'll get the truth out of this fellow on cross-examination," whispered +Mr. Switzer to his client.</p> + +<p>"Be careful not to get too much truth out of him," returned Dic.</p> + +<p>Patsy began his story.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, me and D-Doug was a-g-a-goin' up the west b-bank of B-Blue when +we seed—"</p> + +<p><i>State's Attorney.</i>—"Never mind what you saw at that time. Answer my +question. I asked you to tell all you saw and heard during the fight."</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"I-I w-will if you'll l-let me. J-jest you keep still a +minute and l-l-let me t-talk. I-I c-can't t-t-talk very well anyway. +C-can't talk near as well as you. B-but I can say a he-heap more. +Whe-whe-when you talk so much, ye-ye-you g-get me to st-st-st-stuttering. +S-see? Now listen to that."</p> + +<p><i>State's Attorney.</i>—"Well, go on."</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"Well, we seed Dic and Rita Bays, p-prettiest girl in the +h-h-whole world, on the op-opposite side of the river, and he wa-wa-was +a-kissin' her."</p> + +<p><i>State's Attorney.</i>—"Never mind that, but go ahead. Tell it your own +way."</p> + +<p>"I object," interposed Mr. Switzer. "The witness must confine himself to +the State's question."</p> + +<p>"Confine your answer to the question, Mr. Clark," commanded the Court. +Patsy was growing angry, confused, and frightened.</p> + +<p><i>State's Attorney.</i>—"Go on. Tell your story, can't you?"</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"Well, Doug, he hollered across the river and said he-he +wa-wa-wanted one hisself and would g-g-go over after it."</p> + +<p><i>State's Attorney.</i>—"Did you not understand my question? What did you +see and hear? What occurred during the fight?"</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"Well, g-good L-L-Lord! a-ain't I tryin' to t-tell ye? When +we crossed the river and g-got to the step-off, Rita and D-Dic had went +away and D-Doug and me st-started after 'em down the path toward +B-Bays's. When we g-got up t-to 'em D-Doug he says, says 'ee, 'I-I've +come for my k-kiss,' says 'ee, jes' that-a-way. 'Ye<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> wo-won't get none,' +says Rita, says she, jes' that-a-way, and D-Dic he p-puts in and says, +says 'ee, 'I-I g-guess not,' says 'ee, jes' that-a-way. Then Doug he-he +puts his gun agin' a gum tree and g-grabs Rita about the wa-waist, +hugging her up to him ti-tight-like. Then he-he push her head back-like, +so's 'ee c-could get at her mouth, and then Dic he-he ups and knocks him +d-down. Then D-Doug he-he gets up quick-like and they clinches and +falls, and D-Doug on top. Then Doug he-he says, says 'ee to me, 'G-Give +me your n-knife, Patsy,' jes' that-a-way, and I ups and gives him my +knife, but he d-drops it and some way D-Dic he throws Doug o-off and +gets up, and Doug he picks up the knife and st-starts for Dic, lookin' +wilder 'en hell. Jes' then Rita she ups with D-Doug's gun and shoots him +right through. He-he trembled-like for a minute and his knees shuk and +he shivered all over and turned white about the mouth like he was awful +sick, and then he d-dropped on his face, shot through and through."</p> + +<p>The confusion in the courtroom had been growing since the beginning of +Patsy's story, and by the time he had finished it broke into an uproar. +The judge called "Order," and the sheriff rose to quiet the audience.</p> + +<p><i>State's Attorney.</i>—"Do you mean to say, Mr. Clark, that Rita Bays +fired the shot that wounded Douglas Hill?"</p> + +<p>Douglas, you remember, had just sworn that Dic fired the shot.</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"Yes, sir, you betch yur life that's jes' the way w-w-what I +mean to say."</p> + +<p><i>State's Attorney.</i>—"Now, Mr. Clark, I'll ask you if you did not tell +me and many other citizens of this community that the defendant, Dic +Bright, fired the shot?"</p> + +<p>"I object," cried Mr. Switzer. "The gentleman cannot impeach his own +witness."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Mr. Switzer," answered the Court,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> "unless on the ground +of surprise; but I overrule your objection. Proceed, Mr. State's +Attorney."</p> + +<p>"Answer my question," said that official to Patsy.</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i>—"Yes, sir, I-I d-did tell you, and lots of other folks, too, +that D-Dic shot Doug Hill."</p> + +<p>Question.—"Then, sir, how do you reconcile those statements with the +one you have just made?"</p> + +<p>Answer.—"Don't try to re-re-re-reconcile 'em. Can't. I-I wa-wa-was +talkin' then. I'm sw-sw-swearin' now."</p> + +<p>Dic sprang to his feet, exclaiming:—</p> + +<p>"If the Court please, I wish to enter a plea of guilty to the charge +against me."</p> + +<p>"Your plea will not be accepted," answered the Court. "I am beginning to +see the cause for the defendant's peculiar behavior in this case. Mr. +Sheriff, please subpœna Miss Rita Bays."</p> + +<p>Dic broke down, and buried his face in his folded arms on the table.</p> + +<p>The sheriff started to fetch Rita, but met her near the courthouse and +returned with her to the courtroom. She was directed to take the witness +stand, which she did as calmly as if she were taking a seat at her +father's dinner table; and her story, told in soft, clear tones, +confirmed Patsy in all essential details.</p> + +<p>Mr. Switzer objected to the questions put to her by the Court on the +ground that she could not be compelled to give evidence that would +incriminate herself. The judge admitted the validity of Mr. Switzer's +objection; but after a moment spent in private consultation with the +State's attorney, he said:—</p> + +<p>"The State and the Court pledge themselves that no prosecution will be +instituted against Miss Bays in case her answers disclose the fact that +she shot Doug Hill."</p> + +<p>After Rita had told her story the judge said: "Miss Bays, you did right. +You are a strong, noble girl, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> the man who gets you for a wife will +be blessed of God."</p> + +<p>Rita blushed and looked toward Dic, as if to say, "You hear what the +judge says?" But Dic had heard, and thought the judge wise and excellent +to a degree seldom, if ever, equalled among men.</p> + +<p>The judge then instructed the jury to return a verdict of not guilty, +and within five minutes Dic was a free and happy man. Billy Little did +not seem to be happy; for he, beyond a doubt, was crying, though he said +he had a bad cold and that colds always made his eyes water. He started +to sing Maxwelton's braes in open court, but remembered himself in time, +and sang mentally.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bays had followed Rita; and when the girl and Dic emerged from the +courthouse door, the high court of the Chief Justice seized its daughter +and whisked her off without so much as giving her an opportunity to say +a word of farewell. Rita looked back to Dic, but she was in the hands of +the high court, which was a tribunal differing widely from the <i>nisi +prius</i> organization she had just left, and by no means to be trifled +with.</p> + +<p>Dic stopped for dinner at the inn with Billy Little, and told him that +Mrs. Bays refused her consent.</p> + +<p>"Did you expect anything else?" asked Billy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did," answered Dic.</p> + +<p>"Even Rita will be valued more highly if you encounter difficulties in +getting her," replied his friend.</p> + +<p>"I certainly value her highly enough as it is," said Dic, "and Mrs. +Bays's opposition surprises me a little. I know quite as well as +she—better, perhaps—that I am not worthy of Rita. No man is. But I am +not lazy. I would be willing to die working for her. I am not very good; +neither am I very bad. She will make me good, and I don't see that any +one else around here has anything better to offer her. The truth is, +Rita deserves a rich man from the city,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> who can give her a fine house, +servants, and carriages. It is a shame, Billy Little, to hide such +beauty as Rita's under a log-cabin's roof in the woods."</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you," was Billy's unexpected reply. "But I don't see +any chance for her catching that sort of a man unless her father goes in +business with Fisher at Indianapolis. Even there the field is not broad. +She might, if she lived at Indianapolis, meet a stranger from +Cincinnati, St. Louis, or the East, and might marry the house, +carriages, and servants. I understand Bays—perhaps I should say Mrs. +Bays—contemplates making the move, and probably you had better withdraw +your claim and give the girl a chance."</p> + +<p>Dic looked doubtingly at his little friend and said, "I think I shall +not withdraw."</p> + +<p>"I have not been expecting you would," answered Billy. "But what are you +going to do about the Chief Justice?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. What would you do?"</p> + +<p>Billy Little paused before answering. "If you knew what mistakes I have +made in such matters, you would not ask advice of me."</p> + +<p>Dic waited, hoping that Billy would amplify upon the subject of his +mistakes, but he waited in vain. "Nevertheless," he said, "I want your +advice."</p> + +<p>"I have none to give," responded Billy, "unless it is to suggest in a +general way that in dealing with women boldness has always been +considered the proper article. Humility is sweet in a beautiful woman, +but it makes a man appear sheepish. The first step toward success with +all classes of persons is to gain their respect. Humility in a man won't +gain the respect of a hound pup. Face the world bravely. Egad! St. +George's little affair with the fiery dragon grows pale when one thinks +of the icy dragoness of duty and justice you must overthrow before you +can rescue Rita. But go at the old woman as if you had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> fought dragons +all your life. Tell her bluntly that you want Rita; that you must and +will have her, and that it is not in the power of duty and justice to +keep her from you. Be bold, and you will probably get the girl, together +with her admiration and gratitude. I guess there is no doubt they like +it—boldness. But Lord bless your soul, Dic, I don't know what they +like. I think the best thing you can do is to go to New York with +Sampson, the horse-dealer. He sails out of here in a few days, and if +you will go with him he will pay you five hundred dollars and will allow +you to take a few horses on your own account. You will double your money +if you take good horses."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think he would pay me five hundred dollars?" asked Dic.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe he will. I'll see him about it."</p> + +<p>"I believe I'll go," said Dic. "That is, I'll go if—"</p> + +<p>"If Rita will let you, I suppose you are going to say," remarked Billy. +"We'll name the new firm of horse-buyers Sampson and Sampson; for if you +are not mindful this gentle young Delilah will shear you."</p> + +<p>"I promised her I would not go. I cannot break my word. If she will +release me, I will go, and will thank you with all my heart. Billy +Little, you have done so much for me that I must—I must—"</p> + +<p>"There you go. 'Deed if I don't leave you if you keep it up. You have +four or five good horses, and I'll loan you five hundred dollars with +which you may buy a dozen or fifteen more. You may take twenty head of +horses on your own account, and should make by the trip fifteen hundred +or two thousand dollars, including your wages. Why, Dic, you will be +rich. Unless I am mistaken, wealth is greater even than boldness with +icy dragonesses."</p> + +<p>"Not with Rita."</p> + +<p>"You don't need help of any sort with her," said Billy. "Poor girl, she +is winged for all time. You may be bold or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> humble, rich or poor; it +will be all one to her. But you want to get her without a fight. You +don't know what a fight with a woman like the Chief Justice means. +Carnage and destruction to beat Napoleon. I believe if you had two +thousand dollars in gold, there would be no fight. Good sinews of war +are great peace-makers."</p> + +<p>"I know Rita will release me if I insist," said Dic.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she will," responded his friend.</p> + +<p>"I will go," cried Dic, heroically determined to break the tender +shackles of Rita's welding.</p> + +<p>"Now you are a man again," said Billy. "You may cause her to cry a bit, +but she'll like you none the less for that. If tears caused women to +hate men, there would be a sudden stoppage in population." Billy sat +contemplative for a moment with his finger tips together. "Men are +brutes"—another pause—"but they salt the earth while women sweeten it. +Personally, I would rather sweeten the earth than salt it; but a sweet +man is like a pokeberry—sugarish, nauseating and unhealthful. My love +for sweetness has made me a failure."</p> + +<p>"You are not a failure, Billy Little. You are certainly of the salt of +the earth," insisted Dic.</p> + +<p>"A man fails when he does not utilize his capabilities to their limit," +said Billy, philosophically. "He is a success when he accomplishes all +he can. The measure of the individual is the measure of what should +constitute his success. His capabilities may be small or great; if he +but use them all, he is a success. A fishing worm may be a great success +as a fishing worm, but a total failure as a mule. Bless me, what a +sermon I have preached about nothing. I fear I am growing garrulous," +and Billy looked into the fire and hummed Maxwelton's braes.</p> + +<p>That evening Dic went to call on Rita and made no pretence of wishing to +see Tom. That worthy young man had served his purpose, and could never +again be a factor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> in Dic's life or courtship. Mrs. Bays received Dic +coldly; but Mr. Bays, in a half-timid manner, was very cordial. Dic paid +no heed to the coldness, and, after talking on the porch with the family +for a few minutes, boldly asked Rita to walk across the yard to the log +by the river. Rita gave her mother a frightened glance and hurried away +with Dic before Justice could assert itself, and the happy pair sought +the beloved sycamore divan by the river bank.</p> + +<p>"In the midst of all my happiness," began Rita, "I'm very unhappy +because I, in place of Patsy Clark, did not liberate you. I always +intended to tell the truth. You must have known that I would."</p> + +<p>"I never even hoped that you would not. I knew that when the time should +come you would not obey me," returned Dic.</p> + +<p>"In all else, Dic, in all else." There was the sweet, all-conquering +humility of which Billy had spoken.</p> + +<p>"In all else, Rita? Do you mean what you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I will put you to the test at once. For your sake and my own I should +go with Sampson to New York, and I want you to release me from my +promise. I would not ask you did I not feel that it is an opportunity +such as I may never have again. It is now July; I shall be back by the +middle of November, and then, Rita, you will go home with me, won't +you?" For answer the girl gently put her hand in his. "And you will +release me from my promise?"</p> + +<p>She nodded her head, and after a short silence added: "I fear I have no +will of my own. I borrow all from you. I cannot say 'no' when you wish +'yes'; I cannot say 'yes' when you wish 'no.' I fear you will despise +me, I am so cheap; but I am as I am, and it is your fault that I have so +many faults. You have made me what I am. Will it not be wonderful, Dic, +if I, who clung to your finger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> in my babyhood, should be led by your +hand from my cradle to—to my grave? I have never in all my life, Dic, +known any real help but yours—and some from Billy Little. So you see my +dependence upon you is excusable, and you cannot think less of me +because I am so weak." She looked up to him with a tearful smile in +which the past and the future contributed each its touch of sadness.</p> + +<p>"Rita, come to the house this instant!" called Mrs. Bays (to Dic her +voice sounded like a broken string in Billy Little's piano).</p> + +<p>Dic and Rita went to the house, and Mrs. Bays, pointing majestically to +a chair, said to her daughter:—</p> + +<p>"Now, you sit there, and if you move, off to bed you go." The threat was +all-sufficient.</p> + +<p>Dic sat upon the edge of the porch thinking of St. George and the +dragon, and tried to work his courage up to the point of attack. He +talked ramblingly for a while to Mr. Bays; then, believing his courage +in proper form, he turned to that gentleman's better nine-tenths and +boldly began:—</p> + +<p>"I want Rita, Mrs. Bays. I know I am not worthy of her" (here the girl +under discussion flashed a luminous glance of flat contradiction at the +speaker), "and I know I am asking a great deal, but—but—" But the +boldness had evaporated along with the remainder of what he had to say, +for with Dic's first words Justice dropped her knitting to her lap, took +off her glasses, and gazed at the unfortunate malefactor with an +injured, fixed, and icy stare. Dic retired in disorder; but he soon +rallied his forces and again took up the battle.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to New York in a few days," he said. "I will not be home till +November. I have Rita's promise. I can, if I must, be satisfied with +that; but I should like your consent before I go." Brave words, those, +to the dragoness of Justice. But she did not even look at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +presumptuous St. George. She was, as Justice should be, blind. Likewise +she appeared to be deaf.</p> + +<p>"May I have your consent, Mr. Bays?" asked Dic, after a long pause, +turning to Rita's father.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, "yes, Dic, I will be glad—" Justice at the moment +recovered sight and hearing, and gazed stonily at its mate. The mate, +after a brief pause, continued in a different tone:—</p> + +<p>"That is, I don't care. You and mother fix it between you. I don't know +anything about such matters." Mr. Bays leaned forward with his elbows on +his knees and examined his feet as if he had just discovered them. After +a close scrutiny he continued:—</p> + +<p>"Rita's the best girl that ever lived. I don't care where you look, +there's not another like her in all the world. She has never caused me a +moment of pain—" Rita moved her chair to her father's side and took his +hand—"she has brought me nothing but happiness, and I would—" He +ceased speaking, and no one has ever known what Mr. Bays "would," for at +that interesting point in his remarks his worthy spouse interrupted +him—</p> + +<p>"Nothing brings you pain. You shirk it and throw it all on me. Lord +knows the girl has brought trouble enough to me. I have toiled and +worked and suffered for her. I bear the burdens of this house, and if my +daughter is better than other girls,—I don't say she is, and I don't +say she isn't,—but if she is better than other girls, I say it is +because I have done my duty by her."</p> + +<p>Truth compels me to admit that she had done her duty toward the girl +with a strenuous sincerity that often amounted to cruelty, but in the +main she had done her best for Rita.</p> + +<p>Dic had unintentionally turned the tide of battle on Mr. Bays, and that +worthy sufferer, long used to the anguish of defeat, and dead to the +shame of cowardice, rose from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> his chair and beat a hasty retreat to his +old-time sanctuary, the barn. Dic did not retreat; single-handed and +alone, he took lance in hand and renewed the attack with adroit thrusts +of flattery and coaxing. After many bouts a compromise was reached and +an armistice declared between the belligerent powers until Dic should +return from New York. This armistice was virtually a surrender of the +Bays forces, so that evening when Dic started home Rita accompanied him +to the gate beneath the dark shadow of a drooping elm, and the gate's +the place for "a' that and a' that."</p> + +<p>Next morning bright and early Dic went to town to see Sampson, the +horse-dealer. He found him sitting on the inn porch.</p> + +<p>"Well, you're going to take the horses for me, after all?" asked that +worthy descendant of one of the tribes.</p> + +<p>"Billy Little said you would give me five hundred dollars. That is a +very large sum. You first offered me only one hundred."</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Sampson; "I had a talk with Little. Horses are in great +demand in New York, and I want an intelligent man who can hurry the +drove through to Harrisburg, where I'll meet them. If we get them to New +York in advance of the other dealers, we should make a profit of one +hundred dollars a head on every good horse. You will have two other men +with you, but I will put you in charge. Don't speak of the five hundred +dollars you're to have; the others are to receive only fifty dollars +each."</p> + +<p>The truth is, Billy had contributed four hundred dollars of the sum Dic +was to receive, and four hundred dollars was one-tenth of all Billy's +worldly goods.</p> + +<p>Dic completed his arrangements with Sampson, which included the +privilege of taking twenty horses on his own account, and then, as +usual, went to see Billy Little.</p> + +<p>"Well, Billy Little," said Dic, joyfully, "I'm going.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> I've closed with +Sampson. He gives me five hundred dollars, and allows me to take twenty +horses of my own. I ought to get fine young horses at twenty-five +dollars a head."</p> + +<p>"Sure," answered Billy, "that would amount to—how many have you of your +own?"</p> + +<p>"Four," answered Dic.</p> + +<p>"Then you'll want to buy sixteen—four hundred dollars. Here is the +money," and he handed him a canvas shot-bag containing the gold.</p> + +<p>"Now, Billy Little," said Dic, "I want to give you my note for this +money, bearing the highest rate of interest."</p> + +<p>"All right," responded our backwoods usurer, "I'll charge you twelve per +cent. I do love a good interest. There is no Antonio about me. I'll lend +no money gratis and bring down the rate of usance. Not I."</p> + +<p>The note signed, Dic looked upon himself as an important factor in the +commercial world, and felt his obligation less because of the high rate +of interest he was paying.</p> + +<p>The young man at once began looking for horses, and within three days +had purchased sixteen "beauties," as Billy Little called them, which, +with his own, made up the number he was to take. His adventurous New +York trip raised him greatly in the estimation of Mrs. Bays. It brought +her to realize that he was a man, and it won, in a degree, her reluctant +respect. The ride over the mountains through rain and mud and countless +dangers was an adventure worthy to inspire respect. The return would be +easier than the eastward journey. Dic would return from New York to +Pittsburg by canal boat and stage. From Pittsburg, if the river should +be open, he would go to Madison by the Ohio boats. From Madison he would +come north to Columbus on the mail stage, and at Columbus he would be +within twenty-five miles of home.</p> + +<p>As I have told you, Mrs. Bays grew to respect Dic; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> being willing to +surrender, save for the shame of defeat, she honestly kept the terms of +her armistice. Thus Rita and Dic enjoyed the sycamore divan by the +river's edge without interference.</p> + +<p>On the night before his departure he gave Rita the ring, saying, "This +time it is for keeps."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," returned the girl, with a touch of doubt in her hesitating +words.</p> + +<p>He spoke buoyantly of his trip and of the great things that were sure to +come out of it, and again Rita softly hoped so; but intimated in a +gentle, complaining tone of voice that something told her trouble would +come from the expedition. She felt that she was being treated badly, +though, being such a weak, selfish, unworthy person,—so she had been +taught by her mother to believe,—she deserved nothing better. Dic +laughed at her fears, and told her she was the one altogether perfect +human being. Although by insistence he brought her to admit that he was +right in both propositions, he failed to convince her in either, and she +spoke little, save in eloquent sighs, during the remainder of the +evening.</p> + +<p>After the eventful night of Scott's social, Rita's surrender of self had +grown in its sweetness hour by hour; and although Dic's love had also +deepened, as his confidence grew apace he assumed an air of patronage +toward the girl which she noticed, but which she considered quite the +proper thing in all respects.</p> + +<p>There was no abatement of his affection this last evening together, but +she was sorry to see him so joyful at leaving her. Their situation was +simply a repetition of the world-wide condition: the man with many +motives and ambitions, the woman with one—love.</p> + +<p>After Dic had, for the twentieth time, said he must be going, the girl +whispered:—</p> + +<p>"I fear you will carry away with you the memory of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> dull evening, but +I could not talk, I could not. Oh, Dic—" Thereupon she began to weep, +and Dic, though pained, found a certain selfish joy in comforting her, +compared to which the conversation of Madame de Staël herself would have +been poor and commonplace. Then came the gate, a sweet face wet with +tears, and good-by and good-by and good-by.</p> + +<p>Dic went home joyful. Rita went to her room weeping. It pained him to +leave her, but it grieved her far more deeply, and she began then to pay +the penalty of her great crime in being a woman.</p> + +<p>Do not from the foregoing remark conclude that Dic was selfish in his +lack of pain at parting from Rita. He also lacked her fears. Did the +fear exist in her and not in him because her love was greater or because +she was more timid? Had her abject surrender made him over-confident? +When a woman gives as Rita did she should know her man, else she is in +danger. If he happens to be a great, noble soul, she makes her heaven +and his then and there. If he is a selfish brute, she will find another +place of which we all stand in wholesome dread. +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A CHRISTMAS HEARTH LOG</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">A Christmas Hearth Log</span></h4> + + +<p>On the morning of Dic's departure, Billy Little advised him to invest +the proceeds of his expedition in goods at New York, and to ship them to +Madison.</p> + +<p>"You see," said Billy, "you will make your profit going and coming, and +you will have a nice lump of gold when you return. Gold means Rita, and +Rita means happiness and ploughing."</p> + +<p>"Not ploughing, Billy Little," interrupted Dic.</p> + +<p>"We'll see what we will see," replied Billy. "Here is a list of goods I +advise you to buy, and the name of a man who will sell them to you at +proper prices. You can trust him. He wouldn't cheat even a friend. +Good-by, Dic. Write to me. Of course you will write to Rita?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I shall," replied Dic in a tone expressive of the fact that he +was a fine, true fellow, and would perform that pleasant duty with +satisfaction to himself and great happiness to the girl. You see, Dic's +great New York journey had caused him to feel his importance a bit.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would go up to see her very often," continued our confident +young friend; "if I do say it myself, she will miss me greatly. When I +return, she shall go home with me. Mrs. Bays has almost given her +consent. You will go often, won't you, Billy Little? Next to me, I +believe she loves you best of all the world."</p> + +<p>Billy watched Dic ride eastward on the Michigan road, and muttered to +himself:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"'Next to me'; there is no next, you young fool." Then he went in to his +piano and caressed the keys till they yielded their ineffable sweetness +in the half-sad tones of Handel's "Messiah"; afterward, to lift his +spirits, they gave him a glittering sonata from Mozart. But it is better +to feel than to think. It is sweeter to weep than to laugh. So when he +was tired of the classics, he played over and over again, in weird, +minor, improvised variations, his love of loves, "Annie Laurie," and +tears came to his eyes because he was both happy and sad. The keys +seemed to whisper to him, so gently did he touch them, and their tones +fell, not upon his ears, but upon his heart, with a soothing pathos like +the sough of an old song or a sweet, forgotten odor of a day that is +past.</p> + +<p>Billy did his best to console Rita, though it was a hopeless task and +full of peril for him. There was but one topic of interest to her. Rome +and Greece were dull. What cared she about the Romans? Dic was not a +Roman. Conversation upon books wearied her, and subjects that a few +months ago held her rapt attention, now threw her into revery. I am +sorry to say she was a silly, love-lorn young woman, and not in the +least entitled to the respect of strong-minded persons. I would not +advise you, my dear young girl, to assume Rita's faults; but if you +should do so, many a good, though misguided man will mistake them for +virtues and will fall at your feet. You will not deceive your sisters; +but you won't care much for their opinion.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Soon after Dic's departure, Jim Fisher, Mrs. Bays's brother, renewed his +offer to take Mr. Bays as a partner in the Indianapolis store. The offer +was a good one and was honestly made. Fisher needed more capital, and to +that extent his motive was selfish; but the business was prosperous, and +he could easily have found a partner.</p> + +<p>One Saturday evening he came up to talk over the mat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>ter with his +brother-in-law. He took with him to Blue no less a person than Roger +Williams—not the original, redoubtable Roger who discovered Rhode +Island, but a descendant of his family. Williams was a man of +twenty-five. Boston was his home, and he was the son of a father +Williams who manufactured ploughs, spades, wagons, and other +agricultural implements. The young man was his father's western +representative, and Fisher sold his goods in the Indianapolis district. +He dressed well and was affable with his homespun friends. In truth, he +was a gentleman. He made himself at home in the cabin; but he had brains +enough to respect and not to patronize the good people who dwelt +therein.</p> + +<p>Of course it will be useless for me to pretend that this young fellow +did not fall in love with Rita. If I had been responsible for his going +to Blue, you would be justified in saying that I brought him there for +the purpose of furnishing a rival to Dic; but I had nothing to do with +his going or loving, and take this opportunity to proclaim my innocence +of all such responsibility. He came, he stayed till Tuesday, and was +conquered. He came again two weeks later, and again, and still again. He +saw, but did he conquer? That is the great question this history is to +answer. Meantime Dic was leading a drove of untamed horses all day long, +and was sleeping sometimes at a wretched inn, sometimes in the pitiless +storm, and sometimes he was chasing stampeded horses for forty-eight +hours at a stretch without sleeping or eating. But when awake he thought +of Rita, and when he slept he dreamed of her, though in his dreams there +was no handsome city man, possessed of a fine house, servants, and +carriages, sitting by her side. Had that fact been revealed to him in a +dream, the horses might have stampeded to Jericho for all he would have +cared, and he would have stampeded home to look after more important +interests.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>But to return to Fisher's visits. After supper, Saturday evening, the +question of the new store came up.</p> + +<p>Fisher said: "If you can raise three thousand dollars, Tom, you may have +a half-interest in the business. I have three thousand dollars now +invested, and have credit for an additional three thousand with Mr. +Williams. If we had six thousand dollars, we may have credit for six +thousand more, twelve thousand in all, and we can easily turn our stock +twice a year. Tom, it's the chance of your life. Don't you think it is, +Margarita?"</p> + +<p>"It looks that way, Jim," said Mrs. Bays; "but we haven't the three +thousand dollars, and we must think it over carefully and prayerfully."</p> + +<p>"Can't you sell the farm or mortgage it?" suggested Fisher. Tom, Jr., +gazed intently into the tree-tops, and, in so doing, led the others to +ask what he was seeking. There was nothing unusual to be seen among the +trees, and Mrs. Bays inquired:—</p> + +<p>"What on earth are you looking for, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"I was looking to see if there was anybody roosting up there, waiting to +buy this half-cleared old stump field."</p> + +<p>"Tom's right," said his father. "I fear a purchaser will be hard to +find, and I don't know any one who would loan me three thousand dollars. +If we can find the money, we'll try it. What do you say, Margarita?" +Mrs. Bays was still inclined to be careful and prayerful.</p> + +<p>Since Rita had expressed to Billy Little her desire to remove to +Indianapolis (on the day she bought the writing paper, which, by the +way, she had never paid for) so vast a change had taken place within +herself that she had changed her way of seeing nearly everything +outside. Especially had she changed the point of view from which she saw +the Indianapolis project, and she was now quite content to grow up "a +ragweed or a mullein stalk," if she could grow in Dic's fields, and be +cared for by his hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> I believe that when a woman loves a strong man +and contemplates marriage with him, as she is apt to do, a comforting +sense of his protecting care is no small part of her emotions. She may +not consider the matter of her daily bread and raiment, but she feels +that in the harbor of his love she will be safe from the manifold storms +and harms that would otherwise beset her.</p> + +<p>Owing to Rita's great change the conversation on the porch was fraught +with a terrible interest. While the others talked, she, as in duty +bound,—girls were to be seen and not heard in those days,—remained +silent. Fortunately the fact that she was a girl did not preclude +thinking. That she did plenteously, and all lines of thought led to the +same question, "How will it affect Dic?" She could come to no +conclusion. Many times she longed to speak, but dared not; so she shut +her lips and her mind and determined to postpone discussing the question +with herself till she should be in bed where she could think quietly. +Meanwhile Williams seated himself beside her on the edge of the porch +and rejoiced over this beautiful rose he had found in the wilderness. +She being a simple country flower, he hoped to enjoy her fragrance for a +time without much trouble in the plucking, and it looked as though his +task would be an easy one. At first the girl was somewhat frightened at +his grandeur; but his easy, chatty conversation soon dispelled her +shyness, and she found him entertaining. He at first sight was charmed +by her beauty. He quickly discovered that her nose, chin, lips, +forehead, and complexion were faultless, and as for those wonderful +eyes, he could hardly draw his own away from them, even for a moment. +But after he had talked with her he was still more surprised to find her +not only bright, but educated, in a rambling way, to a degree little +expected in a frontier girl.</p> + +<p>Williams was a Harvard man, and when he discovered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> that the girl by his +side could talk on subjects other than bucolic, and that she could +furthermore listen to him intelligently, he branched into literature, +art, travel, and kindred topics. She enjoyed hearing him talk, and +delighted him now and then with an apt reply. So much did her voice +charm him that he soon preferred it even to his own, and he found +himself concluding that this was not a wild forest rose at all, but a +beautiful domestic flower, worthy of care in the plucking. They had +several little tilts in the best of humor that confirmed Williams in the +growing opinion that the girl's beauty and strength were not all +physical. He talked much about Boston and its culture, and spoke +patronizingly of that unfortunate portion of the world's people who did +not enjoy the advantage of living within the sacred walls. Although Rita +knew that his boast was not all vain, and that his city deserved its +reputation, she laughed softly and said in apparent seriousness:—</p> + +<p>"It is almost an education even to meet a person from Boston."</p> + +<p>Williams looked up in surprise. He had not suspected that sarcasm could +lurk behind those wonderful eyes, but he was undeceived by her remark, +and answered laughingly:—</p> + +<p>"That is true, Miss Bays."</p> + +<p>"Boston has much to be proud of," continued the girl, surprised and +somewhat frightened at the rate she was bowling along. She had never +before talked so freely to any one but Billy Little and Dic. "Yes, all +good comes out of Boston. I've been told that if you hear her church +bells toll, your soul is saved. There is a saving grace in their very +tones. It came over in the <i>Mayflower</i>, as you might transport yeast. If +you walk through Harvard, you will be wise; if you stand on Bunker Hill, +treason flees your soul forever; and if you once gaze upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> Common, +you are safe from the heresy of the Quaker and the sin of witchcraft."</p> + +<p>"I fear you are making a jest of Boston, Miss Bays," replied Williams, +who shared the sensitiveness peculiar to his people.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, "I jest only at your boasting. Your city is all you +claim for it; but great virtue needs no herald."</p> + +<p>Williams remained silent for a moment, and then said, "Have you ever +been in Boston?"</p> + +<p>"I? Indeed, no," she answered laughingly. "I've never been any place but +to church and once to a Fourth of July picnic. I was once at a church +social, but it brought me into great trouble and I shall never go to +another." Williams was amused and again remained, for a time, in silent +meditation. She did not interrupt him, and at length he spoke +stammeringly:—</p> + +<p>"Pardon me—where did you learn—how comes it—I am speaking abruptly, +but one would suppose you had travelled and enjoyed many advantages that +you certainly could not have here."</p> + +<p>"You greatly overestimate me, Mr. Williams. I have only a poor +smattering of knowledge which I absorbed from two friends who are really +educated men,—Mr. Little and Dic—Mr. Bright!"</p> + +<p>"Are they old—elderly men?" asked Williams.</p> + +<p>"One is," responded Rita.</p> + +<p>"Which one?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Little."</p> + +<p>"And the other—Mr. Bright—is he young?" asked the inquisitive +Bostonian. There was no need for Rita to answer in words. The color in +her cheeks and the radiance of her eyes told plainly enough that Mr. +Bright <i>was</i> young. But she replied with a poor assumption of +indifference:—</p> + +<p>"I think he is nearly five years older than I." There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> was another +betrayal of an interesting fact. She measured his age by hers.</p> + +<p>"And that would make him—?" queried Williams.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-two—nearly."</p> + +<p>"Are you but seventeen?" he asked. Rita nodded her head and answered:—</p> + +<p>"Shamefully young, isn't it? I used to be sensitive about my extreme +youth and am still a little so, but—but it can't be helped." Williams +laughed, and thought he had never met so charming a girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, "it is more or less a disgrace to be so young, but +it is a fault easily overlooked." He paused for a moment while he +inspected the heavens, and continued, still studying astronomy: "I mean +it is not easily overlooked in some cases. Sometimes it is 'a monster of +such awful mien' that one wishes to jump clear over the enduring and the +pitying, and longs to embrace."</p> + +<p>"We often see beautiful sunsets from this porch," answered Rita, "and I +believe one is forming now." There was not a society lady in Boston who +could have handled the situation more skilfully; and Williams learned +that if he would flatter this young girl of the wilderness, he must +first serve his probation. She did not desire his flattery, and gave him +to understand as much at the outset. She found him interesting and +admired him. He was the first man of his type she had ever met. In the +matter of education he was probably not far in advance of Dic, and +certainly was very far arrear of Billy Little. But he had a certain +polish which comes only from city life. Billy had that polish, but it +was of the last generation, was very English, and had been somewhat +dimmed by friction with the unpolished surfaces about him. Dic's polish +was that of a rare natural wood.</p> + +<p>As a result of these conditions, Rita and Williams walked up the river +on the following afternoon—Sunday. More<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> by accident than design they +halted at the step-off and rested upon the same rocky knoll where she +and Dic were sitting when Doug Hill hailed them from the opposite bank +of the river. The scene was crowded with memories, and the girl's heart +was soon filled with Dic, while her thoughts were busy with the events +of that terrible day. Nothing that Williams might say could interest +her, and while he talked she listened but did not hear, for her mind was +far away, and she longed to be alone.</p> + +<p>One would suppose that the memory of the day she shot Doug Hill would +have been filled with horror for her, but it was not. This gentle girl, +who would not willingly have killed a worm, and to whom the sight of +suffering brought excruciating pain, had not experienced a pang of +regret because of the part she had been called upon to play in the +tragedy of the step-off. When Doug was lying between life and death, she +hoped he would recover; but no small part of her interest in the result +was because of its effect upon Dic and herself. Billy Little had once +expressed surprise at this callousness, but she replied with a touch of +warmth:—</p> + +<p>"I did right, Billy Little. Even mother admits that. I saved Dic's life +and my own honor. I would do it again. I am sorry I <i>had</i> it to do, but +I am glad, oh so glad, that I had strength to do it. God helped me, or I +could never have fired the shot. You may laugh, Billy Little—I know +your philosophy leads you to believe that God never does things of that +sort—but I know better. You know a great deal more than I about +everything else, but in this instance I am wiser than you. I know God +gave me strength at the moment when I most needed it. That moment taught +me a lesson that some persons never learn. It taught me that God will +always give me strength at the last moment of my need, if I ask it of +Him, as I asked that day."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He gave it to you when you were born, Rita," said Billy.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, "I am weak as a kitten, and always shall be, unless I +get my strength from Him."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Billy, meaning no irreverence, "if He would not give to +you, He would not give to any one."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Billy Little," said the girl, pleased by the compliment—you see +her pleasure in a compliment depended on the maker of it—"you think +every one admires me as much as you do." Billy knew that was impossible, +but for obvious reasons did not explain the true situation.</p> + +<p>Other small matters served to neutralize the horror Rita might otherwise +have felt. The affair at the step-off had been freely talked about by +her friends in her presence, and the thought of it had soon become +familiar to her; but the best cure was her meeting with Doug Hill a +fortnight after the trial. It occurred on the square in the town of Blue +River. She saw Doug coming toward her, and was so shaken by emotions +that she feared she could not stand, but she recovered herself when he +said in his bluff manner:—</p> + +<p>"Rita, I don't want to have no more fights with you. You're too quick on +trigger for Doug. But I want to tell you I don't hold no grudge agin' +you. You did jes' right. You orter a-killed me, but I'm mighty glad you +didn't. That shot of your'n was the best sermon I ever had preached to +me. I hain't tasted a drap of liquor since that day, and I never will. +I'm goin' to start to Illinoy to-morrow, and I'm goin' to get married +and be a man. Better marry me, Rita, and go along."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you will be a man, Doug," responded Rita. "I don't believe I +want to get married, but—but will you shake hands with me?"</p> + +<p>"Bet I will, Rita. Mighty glad to. You've the best pluck of any girl on +yarth, with all you're so mild and kitten-like,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> and the purtiest girl, +too—yes, by gee, the purtiest girl in all the world. Everybody says so, +Rita." Rita blushed, and began to move away from his honest flattery, so +Doug said:—</p> + +<p>"Well, good-by. Tell Dic good-by, and tell him I don't hold no grudge +agin' him neither. Hope he don't agin' me. He ortent to. He's got lots +the best of it—he won the fight and got you. Gee, I'd 'a' been glad to +lose the fight if I could 'a' got you."</p> + +<p>Thus it happened that these two, who had last met with death between +them, parted as friends. Doug started for Illinois next day; and now he +drops out of this history.</p> + +<p>I have spoken thus concerning Rita's feeling about the shooting of Doug +Hill to show you how easy it was for her, while sitting beside Williams +that placid Sunday afternoon, to break in upon his interesting +conversation with the irrelevant remark:—</p> + +<p>"I once shot a man near this spot."</p> + +<p>For a moment or two one might have supposed she had just shot Williams. +He sprang to his feet as if he intended to run from her, but at once +resumed his place, saying:—</p> + +<p>"Miss Bays, your humor always surprises me. It takes me unawares. Of +course you are jesting."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I am not. I have told you the truth. You will hear it sooner or +later if you remain on Blue. It is the one great piece of neighborhood +history since the Indians left. It is nothing to boast of. I simply +state it as a fact,—a lamentable fact, I suppose I should say. But I +don't feel that way about it at all."</p> + +<p>"Did you kill him?" asked the astonished Bostonian.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm glad to say he lived; but that was not my fault. I tried to +kill him. He now lives in Illinois."</p> + +<p>Williams looked at her doubtingly, and still feared she was hoaxing him. +He could not bring himself to believe there dwelt within the breast of +the gentle girl beside him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> a spirit that would give her strength to do +such a deed under any conditions. Never had he met a woman in whom the +adorable feminine weaknesses were more pronounced. She was a coward. He +had seen her run, screaming in genuine fright, from a ground squirrel. +She was meek and unresisting, to the point of weakness. He had seen her +endure unprovoked anger and undeserved rebuke from her mother, and +intolerable slights from Tom, that would surely have aroused retaliation +had there been a spark of combativeness in her gentle heart. That she +was tender and loving could be seen in every glance of her eyes, in +every feature of her face, in every tone of her soft, musical voice. +Surely, thought Williams, the girl could not kill a mouse. Where, then, +would she find strength to kill a man? But she told him, in meagre +outline, her story, and he learned that a great, self-controlled, modest +strength nestled side by side with ineffable gentleness in the heart of +this young girl; and that was the moment of Roger Williams's undoing, +and the beginning of Rita's woe. Prior to that moment he had believed +himself her superior; but, much to his surprise, he found that Roger +occupied second place in his own esteem, while a simple country girl, +who had never been anywhere but to church, a Fourth of July picnic, and +one church social, with his full consent quietly occupied first. This +girl, he discovered, was a living example of what unassisted nature can +do when she tries. All this change in Williams had been wrought in an +instant when he learned that the girl had shot a man. She was the only +woman of his acquaintance who could boast that distinction.</p> + +<p>What was the mental or moral process that had led him to his +conclusions? We all know there is a fascination about those who have +lived through a moment of terrible ordeal and have been equal to its +demands. But do we know by what process their force operates upon us? +We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> are fascinated by a noted duellist who has killed his score of men. +We are drawn by a certain charm that lurks in his iron nerve and gleams +from his cold eyes. The toreador has his way with the Spanish dons and +señoritas alike. The high-rope dancer and the trapeze girl attract us by +a subtle spell. Is it an unlabelled force in nature? I can but ask the +question. I do not pretend to answer.</p> + +<p>Whatever the force may be, Rita possessed it; and, linked with her +gentleness and beauty, its charm was irresistible.</p> + +<p>Here, at last, was the rich man from the city who could give Rita the +fine mansion, carriages, and servants she deserved. Now that these great +benefactions were at her feet, would Dic be as generous as when he told +Billy Little that Rita was not for him, but for one who could give her +these? Would he unselfishly forego his claim to make her great, and +perhaps happy? Great love in a great heart has often done as much, +permitting the world to know nothing of the sacrifice. I have known a +case where even the supposed beneficiary was in ignorance of the real +motive. Perhaps Billy Little could have given us light upon a similar +question, and perhaps the beneficiary did not benefit by the mistaken +generosity, save in the poor matter of gold and worldly eminence; and +perhaps it brought years of dull heartache to both beneficiary and +benefactor, together with hours of longing and conscience-born shame +upon two sinless hearts.</p> + +<p>After Rita had told her story, Roger's chatty style of conversation +suddenly ceased. He made greater efforts to please than before, but the +effort seemed to impair his power of pleasing. Rita, longing to be +alone, had resolved many times to return to the house, but before acting +upon that resolve she heard a voice calling, "Rita!" and a moment +afterward a pair of bright blue eyes, a dimpled rosy face, and a plump +little form constructed upon the partridge model came in sight and +suddenly halted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, excuse me," said our little wood-nymph friend, Sukey Yates. "I did +not know I was intruding. Your mother said you had come in this +direction, and I followed."</p> + +<p>"You are not intruding," replied Rita. "Come and sit by me. Mr. +Williams, Miss Yates."</p> + +<p>Miss Yates bowed and blushed, stammered a word or two, and sat by Rita +on the rocky bench. She was silent and shy for a moment, but Williams +easily loosened her tongue and she went off like a magpie. Billy used to +say that Sukey was the modern incarnation of the ancient and immortal +"Chatterbox."</p> + +<p>After Sukey's arrival, Rita could be alone, and an hour passed before +she returned to the house.</p> + +<p>That evening Billy Little took supper with Mrs. Bays, and Rita, +considering Williams her father's guest, spent most of the evening on +the sycamore log with the bachelor heart.</p> + +<p>"Dic gave me the ring again," she said, holding out her hand for +inspection. Billy took the hand and held it while he said:—</p> + +<p>"It's pretty there—pretty, pretty."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she responded, looking at the back of her hand, "it's very +pretty. It was good of you—but you need not be frightened; I'm not +going to thank you. Where do you suppose he is at this moment?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Billy. "I suppose he's between Pittsburg and +New York."</p> + +<p>"I had a letter from him at Pittsburg two weeks ago," said Rita; "but I +have heard nothing since. His work must be very hard. He has no time to +think of me."</p> + +<p>"He probably finds a moment now and then for that purpose," laughed +Billy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mean that he doesn't think of me! Of course he does that +all the time. I mean that he must have little time for writing."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You must feel very sure of him when you say he thinks of you all the +time. How often have you thought of him since he left?" asked Billy.</p> + +<p>"Once," replied the girl, smiling and blushing.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean all the time?" queried Billy.</p> + +<p>She nodded her head. "Yes, all the time. Oh, Billy Little, you won't +mind if I tell you about it, will you? I must speak—and there is no one +else."</p> + +<p>"What is it you want to say, Rita?" he asked softly.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know—perhaps it is the great change that has taken place +within me since the night of Scott's social and the afternoon I shot +Doug Hill. I seem to be hundreds of years older. I must have been a +child before that night."</p> + +<p>"You are a child now, Rita."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she replied, "trouble matures one."</p> + +<p>"But you are not in trouble?"</p> + +<p>"N-o—" she answered hesitatingly, "but—but this is what I want to say. +Tell me, Billy Little, do you think anything can come between Dic and +me? That is the thought that haunts me all the time and makes me +unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Do you feel sure of Dic?" asked Billy.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I do," she replied; "I am as sure of him as I am of myself."</p> + +<p>"How about that fellow in there?" asked Billy, pointing toward the house +with his thumb.</p> + +<p>"How? In what way?" inquired the girl.</p> + +<p>"Don't you find him interesting?" asked Billy.</p> + +<p>For reply she laughed softly. The question was not worth answering. The +bachelor heart had felt a strong twinge of jealousy on Williams's +account, because it knew that with wealth, an attractive person, and +full knowledge of the world, Williams would, in the long run, prove a +dangerous rival to any man who was not upon the field. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> fact that +Rita dismissed him with a laugh did not entirely reassure the bachelor +heart. It told only what was already known, that she loved Dic with all +the intensity of her nature. But Billy also knew that many a girl with +such a love in her heart for one man had married another. Rita, he +feared, could not stand against the domineering will of her mother; and, +should Williams ply his suit, Billy felt sure he would have a stubborn, +potent ally in the hard Chief Justice. There was, of course, an "if," +but it might easily be turned into a terrible "is"—terrible for Billy, +Dic, and Rita. Billy had grown used to the thought that Rita would some +day become Dic's wife, and after the first spasm of pain the thought had +brought joy; but any other man than Dic was a different proposition, and +Billy's jealousy was easily and painfully aroused. He endured a species +of vicarious suffering while Dic was not present to suffer for himself. +Soon he began to long for Dic's return that he might do his own +suffering.</p> + +<p>Billy's question concerning Williams had crystallized Rita's feeling +that the "fellow in there" was "making up" to her, and when she returned +to the house that evening, she had few words for Roger.</p> + +<p>Monday Rita was unusually industrious during the day, but the evening +seemed long. She was not uncivil to her father's guest, but she did not +sit by him on the edge of the porch as she had done upon the first +evening of his visit. He frequently came to her side, but she as +frequently made an adroit excuse to leave him. She did not dislike him, +but she had found him growing too attentive. This girl was honest from +the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and longed to let Williams +understand that she was the property of another man to whom she would be +true in the spirit and in the letter.</p> + +<p>Tuesday morning the guests departed. Mrs. Bays urgently invited Williams +to return, and he, despite Rita's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> silence, assured his hostess that he +would accept her invitation. The Indianapolis project had been agreed +upon, provided Bays could raise the money. If that could be done, the +new firm would begin operations January first. That afternoon Rita went +to the step-off and looked the Indianapolis situation in the face. It +stared back at her without blinking, and she could evolve no plans to +evade it. Dic would return in November—centuries off—and she felt sure +he would bring help. Until then, Indianapolis, with the figures of her +mother and Williams in the background, loomed ominously before her +vision.</p> + +<p>Williams's second visit was made ostensibly to Rita's father. The third, +two weeks later, was made openly to her father's daughter. It was +preceded by an ominous letter to Rita requesting the privilege of making +the visit to her. Rita wished to answer at once by telling him that she +could not receive him, but Rita's mother thought differently.</p> + +<p>"Say to him," commanded Mrs. Bays, "that you will be pleased to see him. +He is a fine young man with a true religious nature. I find that he has +been brought up by a God-fearing mother. I would not have you receive +him because he is rich, but that fact is nothing against him. I can't +for the life of me understand what he sees in you, but if he—" she +stopped speaking, and her abrupt silence was more emphatic than any +words could have been. Rita saw at once the drift of her mother's +intentions and trembled.</p> + +<p>"But I would not be pleased to see him, mother," the girl responded +pleadingly; "and if I write to him that I would, I should be telling a +lie."</p> + +<p>"I tell a lie," cried the stern old woman in apparent anguish. "Oh, my +heart!" She sank to a chair, and gasping between her words, continued, +"Oh, that I should have lived to be told by my own child that I'm a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +liar!" Her head fell backward, and one would have supposed dissolution +near. Mr. Bays ran to fetch a cup of water, and Rita stood in deep +trouble by her mother's side fanning her. "A liar! a liar!" moaned the +dying woman.</p> + +<p>"I did not say that, mother. I said—"</p> + +<p>"A liar! yes, I'm a liar. My own daughter that I have loved and +cherished in my own bosom, and have toiled and suffered for all my life, +says I'm a liar."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I protest, dear mother, hear me," began Rita, but mother +interrupted her by closing her eyes and supposedly her ears as if she +were on the point of passing over. The only signs of life in the old +woman were her gasps for breath. The girl, who had no deceit in her +heart, could not recognize it in others, least of all was she able to +see it in her own mother, whose transcendent virtues had been dinned +into her ears ever since she had possessed those useful organs. Out of +her confiding trustfulness came a deadly fear for her mother's life. She +fell on her knees and cried: "Forgive me, mother dear, forgive me. I was +wrong. I'll write whatever you wish."</p> + +<p>This surrender, I know, was weak in our heroine; but her words restored +her mother to life and health, and Rita rejoiced that she had seen her +duty and had performed it in time.</p> + +<p>Justice was soon again in equilibrium, and Rita, amid a flood of tears, +wrote to Williams, "I shall be pleased to see you," and he came.</p> + +<p>She did not treat him cordially, though she was not uncivil, and +Williams thought her reticence was due to modesty,—a mistake frequently +made by self-sufficient men. The girl felt that she was bound by her +letter, and that she could not in justice mistreat him. It was by her +invitation he had come. He could not know that she had been forced to +write the letter, and she could not blame him for acting upon it. She +was relieved that he attempted no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> flattery, and felt that surely her +lack of cordiality would prevent another visit. But she was mistaken. He +was not a man easily rebuffed.</p> + +<p>A fortnight later Mrs. Bays announced to her daughter the receipt of a +letter from Mr. Williams, stating that he would be on hand next Saturday +evening.</p> + +<p>"He is trying to induce his father to loan us the money," said Mrs. +Bays, "and your father and I want you to be particularly kind to him. +Your father and I have suffered and worked and toiled for you all your +life. Now you can help us, and you shall do so."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I can't receive him. I can't talk to him. It will be wicked. It +would not be honest; I can't, I can't," sobbed poor Rita. "I don't know +much, but I know it is wrong for me to receive visits from Mr. Williams +when there can be nothing between—between—"</p> + +<p>"Why can't there be anything between you and Williams, girl? Why?" +demanded Mrs. Bays.</p> + +<p>"There are many reasons, mother," returned the weeping girl, "even if it +were not for Dic—"</p> + +<p>"Dic!" screamed the old woman, and an attack of heart trouble at once +ensued, when Rita was again called upon to save her mother's life.</p> + +<p>Thus Williams came the third time to visit Rita, and showed his +ignorance of womankind by proposing marriage to a girl who was unwilling +to listen. He was promptly but politely rejected, and won the girl's +contempt by asking for her friendship if he could not have her love. The +friendship, of course, was readily granted. She was eager to give that +much to all the world.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will not speak of this, even to your father or mother," said +Williams. "Let it be hereafter as if I had never spoken. I regret that I +did speak."</p> + +<p>Rita gladly consented to comply with his request, since she was certain +heart trouble would ensue, with probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> fatal results, should her +mother learn that she had refused the young man with the true religious +nature.</p> + +<p>Williams adroitly regained his ground by exciting Rita's ever ready +sympathy, and hoped to remain in the battle upon the plane of friendship +until another and more favorable opportunity should arise for a +successful attack. His was a tenacious nature that held to a purpose by +hook or by crook till victory crowned his efforts or defeat was +absolute.</p> + +<p>Williams continued to visit Rita, and Dic did not return till Christmas. +During the last month of waiting the girl's patient longing was piteous +to behold. To see her brought grief to Billy's heart, but it angered the +Chief Justice.</p> + +<p>Dic had written that he would be home by the middle of November, and +Rita had counted the days, even the hours, up to that time; but when he +did not arrive as expected, she had not even the poor comfort of +computing time, for she did not know when to expect him. Each day of +longing and fear ended in disappointment and tears, until at last, on +the day before Christmas, she heard from the lips of Sukey Yates that +Dic was at home. There was a touch of disappointment in receiving the +news from Sukey, but the news was so welcome that she was glad to have +it from any one.</p> + +<p>Sukey had ridden over to see Rita. "Why, haven't you seen him yet?" +cried the dimpler, in surprise. "I supposed, of course, he would come +here first—before seeing me. Why, I'm quite proud."</p> + +<p>"No," returned Rita; "I have not seen him."</p> + +<p>"He'll come this evening, I'm sure," said Sukey, patronizingly. "I have +company to-night. He's looking well, though he was sick for three or +four weeks at an inn near Wheeling. His illness caused the delay in +getting home. I just thought he never would come, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>Rita was too happy to be disturbed by insinuations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> of any kind, and +although she would have liked to be the first person to see Dic, she +paid no heed to Sukey's suggestive remarks.</p> + +<p>"He's as handsome as ever," continued Sukey, "and has a mustache. But +you will see him for yourself this evening. Good-by. I must be going. +Now come over real soon."</p> + +<p>"I will," answered Rita, and Sukey left her musing happily upon the +hearth log.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bays had been in Indianapolis for several days. He had not raised +the three thousand dollars, Williams, Sr., being at that time short of +money. Mrs. Bays and Tom had that evening driven to town to meet the +nominal head of the house. It was two o'clock when Sukey left Rita +gazing into the fire and computing the minutes till evening, when she +knew Dic would be with her. He might possibly come over for supper.</p> + +<p>The weather was cold, and snow had been falling since noon. The sycamore +log was under the snow, and she did not hope to have Dic to herself; but +to have him at all would be joy sufficient, and she would dream of him +until he should come. While dreaming, she turned her face toward the +window to watch the falling snow. She did not see the snow, but instead +saw a man. She did not scream with delight, as I suppose she should have +done; she simply rose to her feet and waited in the fireplace till the +door opened and Dic walked in. She did not go to him, but stood +motionless till he came to her.</p> + +<p>"Are you not glad to see me, Rita?" he asked. He could not see her eyes +in the dark room, or he would have had no need to ask. "Are you not +glad?" he repeated. She did not answer, but taking his face between her +hands drew it down to hers with infinite tenderness and passion. Then, +with her arms about his neck, she spoke the one word, "Glad?" and Dic +knew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>After she had uttered the big word of one syllable, she buried her face +on his breast and began to weep.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Rita," pleaded Dic, "don't cry. I can't bear it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but let me cry for one little moment," she begged. "It is better +than laughing, and it helps me so much." There was, of course, but one +answer, and Dic, turning up her tear-stained face, replied eloquently.</p> + +<p>After a chaotic period of several minutes they took their childhood's +place upon the hearth log within the warm, bright fireplace. Dic stirred +the fire, and the girl, nestling beside him, said:—</p> + +<p>"Now tell me everything."</p> + +<p>"Where shall I begin?" asked Dic; and after a pause in which to find a +starting-point, he said:—</p> + +<p>"I have brought you a little present. I wanted to keep it till +to-morrow—Christmas—but I find I cannot." He produced a small gold +watch with the word "Rita" engraved upon the lid. Rita was delighted; +but after a moment or two of admiration she repeated her request.</p> + +<p>Dic rapidly ran over the events of his trip. He had brought home +twenty-six hundred dollars, and the gold was at that moment in Billy +Little's iron-box. Of the wonders he had seen he would tell her at +leisure. He had received her three letters, and had them in his pocket +in a small leather case purchased expressly to hold them. They had never +left his person. He had been ill at an inn near Wheeling, and was "out +of his head" for three weeks; hence his failure to write during that +time.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sukey told me you had been ill. I was sorry to learn it. +Especially—especially from her," said the girl, with eyes bent demurely +upon the hearth.</p> + +<p>"Why from her?" asked Dic.</p> + +<p>"Well, from any one," she replied. "I hoped you would come to see me +first. You see, I am a very exact<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>ing, jealous, disagreeable person, +Dic, and I wanted you to see me and tell me everything before you should +go to see any one else."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I would," he returned. "I have come here first."</p> + +<p>"Did you not go around by Sukey's and see her on your way home?" Rita +asked.</p> + +<p>"I did not," replied Dic. "She was in town and rode with mother and me +as far as the Yates cross-path. She heard me telling mother I had been +ill."</p> + +<p>Dic did not tell Rita that Sukey had whispered to him in Billy Little's +store that she, Sukey, had been going to town every day during the last +fortnight in the hope that she might be the first one to see him, and +that she was so wild with joy at his return that she could easily find +it in her heart to kiss him right then and there in full view of a large +and appreciative audience; and that if he would come over Christmas +night when the folks were going to Marion, she would remain at home +and—and would he come? Dic did not mention these small matters, and, in +fact, had forgotten what Sukey had said, not caring a baw-bee how often +she had gone to meet him or any one else, and having no intention to +accept her hospitality Christmas night. Sukey's words had, for a moment, +tickled his vanity,—an easy task for a pretty woman with any man,—but +they had gone no deeper than his vanity, which, in Dic's case, was not +very deep.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<h2>DIC LENDS MONEY GRATIS</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Dic Lends Money Gratis</span></h4> + + +<p>Such an hour as our young friends spent upon the ciphering log would +amply compensate for the trouble of living a very long life. +"Everything," as Rita had asked, was told volubly, until Dic, perhaps by +accident, clasped Rita's hand. His failure to do so earlier in the +afternoon had been an oversight; but after the oversight had been +corrected, comparative silence and watching the fire from the ciphering +log proved a sufficiently pleasant pastime, and amply good enough for +them. Good enough! I hope they have fireplaces and ciphering logs, soft, +magnetic hands, and eloquent silence in paradise, else the place will +surely be a failure.</p> + +<p>Snow was falling furiously, and dark winter clouds obscured the sinking +sun, bringing night before its time; and so it happened that Rita did +not see her mother pass the window. The room was dark, save in the +fireplace where Rita and Dic were sitting, illumined by the glow of +hickory embers, and occasionally by a flickering flame that spluttered +from the half-burned back-log. Unexpected and undesired, Mrs. Bays, +followed closely by our friend Williams, entered through the front door. +Dic sprang to his feet, but he was too slow by several seconds, and the +newcomers had ample opportunity to observe his strict attention to the +business in hand. Mrs. Bays bowed stiffly to Dic, and walked to the bed, +where she deposited her wraps.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>Williams approached Rita, who was still seated in the fireplace. She +rose and accepted his proffered hand, forgetting in her confusion to +introduce Dic. Roger's self-composure came to his relief.</p> + +<p>"This must be Mr. Bright," said he, holding out his hand to Dic. "I have +heard a great deal of you from Miss Bays during the last four months. We +heard in town that you had returned. Since Rita will not introduce me, I +will perform that duty for myself. I am Mr. Williams."</p> + +<p>"How do you do," said Dic, as he took Roger's hand.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to meet you," said Williams, which, as we know, was a +polite fiction. Dic had no especial occasion to dispute Williams's +statement, but for some undefined reason he doubted its truth. He did +not, however, doubt his own feelings, but knew that he was not glad to +meet Williams. The words, "I have heard a great deal of you from Miss +Bays during the last four months," had so startled him that he could +think of nothing else. After the narrative of his own adventures, he +had, in imitation of Rita, asked <i>her</i> to tell <i>him</i> "everything"; but +the name of Williams, her four-months' friend, had not been mentioned. +Dic could not know that the girl had forgotten Williams's very existence +in the moment of her joy. Her forgetfulness was the best evidence that +Williams was nothing to her; but, I confess, her failure to speak of him +had an ugly appearance. Williams turned to Rita, and, with a feeling of +satisfaction because Dic was present, handed her a small package, +saying:—</p> + +<p>"I have brought you a little Christmas gift."</p> + +<p>Rita hesitatingly accepted the package with a whispered "Thank you," and +Mrs. Bays stepped to her side, exclaiming:—</p> + +<p>"Ah, how kind of you, Mr. Williams."</p> + +<p>Rita, Mrs. Bays, and Williams were facing the fire, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> Dic stood back +in the shadow of the room. A deep, black shadow it was to Dic.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bays, taking the package from Rita's hand, opened it; and there, +nestling in a bed of blue velvet, was a tiny watch, rich with jewels, +and far more beautiful than the one Dic had brought from New York. +Encircling the watch were many folds of a massive gold chain. Mrs. Bays +held the watch up to the light of the firelight, and Dic, with an aching +sensation in the region of his heart, saw its richness at a glance. He +knew at once that the giver must be a man of wealth; and when Mrs. Bays +delightedly threw the gold chain over Rita's head, and placed the watch +in her unresisting hand, he remarked that he must be going. Poor, +terrified Rita did not hear Dic's words. Receiving no reply, he took his +hat from the floor where he had dropped it on entering the room several +centuries before, opened the door, and walked out.</p> + +<p>All that I have narrated as taking place after Williams entered upon the +scene occurred within the space of two or three minutes, and Rita first +learned that Dic was going when she heard the door close.</p> + +<p>"Dic!" she cried, and started to follow him, but her mother caught her +wrist and said sternly:—</p> + +<p>"Stay here, Rita. Don't go to the door."</p> + +<p>"But, mother—"</p> + +<p>"Stay here, I command you," and Rita did not go to the door. Dic met Mr. +Bays at the gate, paused for a word of greeting, and plunged into the +snow-covered forest, while the words "during the last four months" rang +in his ears with a din that was almost maddening.</p> + +<p>"She might have told me," he muttered, speaking as if to the storm. +"While I have been thinking of her every moment, she has been listening +to him. But her letters were full of love. She surely loved me when I +met her two hours ago. No woman could feign love so perfectly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> She must +love me. I can't believe otherwise. I will see her again to-night and +she will explain all, I am sure. There is no deceit in her." His +returning confidence eased, though it did not cure, his pain. It +substituted another after a little time—suspense. It was not in his +nature to brook suspense, and he determined again and again to see Rita +that evening.</p> + +<p>But his suspense was ended without seeing Rita. When he reached home he +found Sukey, blushing and dimpling, before the fire, talking to his +mother.</p> + +<p>"Been over to see Rita?" she asked, parting her moist, red lips in a +smile, showing a gleam of her little, white teeth, and dimpling +exquisitely.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Dic, laconically.</p> + +<p>"Thought maybe you would stay for supper," she continued.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Dic.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the other fellow was there," remarked Sukey, shrugging her +plump shoulders and laughing softly. Dic did not reply, but drew a chair +to the hearth.</p> + +<p>"Guess they're to be married soon," volunteered Sukey. "He has been +coming Saturdays and staying over Sunday ever since you left. Guess he +waited for you to get out of the way. I think he's so handsome. Met him +one Sunday afternoon at the step-off. I went over to see Rita, and her +mother said she had gone to take a walk with Mr. Williams in that +direction after dinner. I knew they would be at the step-off; it's such +a lonely place. He lives in Boston, and they say he's enormously rich." +During the long pause that followed Dic found himself entirely relieved +of suspense. There was certainty to his heart's content. He did not show +his pain; and much to her joy Sukey concluded that Dic did not care +anything about the relations between Williams and Rita.</p> + +<p>"Rita showed me the ring he gave her," continued<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> Sukey. Dic winced, but +controlled himself. It was his ring that Sukey had seen on Rita's +finger, but Dic did not know that.</p> + +<p>"Some folks envy her," observed the dimpler, staring in revery at the +fire. "She'll have a fine house, servants, and carriages"—Dic +remembered having used those fatal words himself—"and will live in +Boston; but for myself—well, I never intend to marry, but if I do I'll +take one of the boys around here, or I'll die single. The boys here are +plenty good enough for me."</p> + +<p>The big, blue eyes, covered by downcast lashes, were carefully examining +a pair of plump, little, brown hands resting in her lap, but after a +pause she flashed a hurried glance upon Dic, which he did not see.</p> + +<p>When a woman cruelly wounds a man as Rita had wounded Dic, the first +remedy that suggests itself to the normal masculine mind is another +woman, and the remedy is usually effective. There may not be as good +fish in the sea as the one he wants, but good fish there are, in great +numbers. Balm of Gilead doubtless has curative qualities; but for a +sore, jealous, aching, masculine heart I would every time recommend the +fish of the sea.</p> + +<p>Sukey, upon Mrs. Bright's invitation, remained for supper, and Dic, of +course, was compelled to take her home. Upon arrival at the Yates +mansion, Sukey invited Dic to enter. Dic declined. She drew off her +mittens and took his hand.</p> + +<p>"Why," she said, "your hands are like ice; you must come in and warm +them. Please do," so Dic hitched his horse under a straw-covered shed +and went in with the remedy. One might have travelled far and wide +before finding a more pleasant remedy than Sukey; but Dic's ailments +were beyond cure, and Sukey's smiles might as well have been wasted upon +her brother snowman in the adjacent field.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>Soon after Dic's arrival, all the family, save Sukey, adjourned to the +kitchen, leaving the girl and her "company" to themselves, after the +dangerous manner of the times.</p> + +<p>If any member of the family should remain in the room where the young +lady of the house was entertaining a friend, the visitor would consider +himself <i>persona non grata</i>, and would come never again. Of course the +Bays family had never retired before Dic; but he had always visited Tom, +not Rita.</p> + +<p>The most unendurable part of Williams's visits to Rita was the fact that +they were made to her, and that she was compelled to sit alone with him +through the long evenings, talking as best she could to one man and +longing for another. When that state of affairs exists, and the woman +happens to be a wife, the time soon comes when she sighs for the +pleasures of purgatory; yet we all know some poor woman who meets the +wrong man every day and gives him herself and her life because God, in +His inscrutable wisdom, has permitted a terrible mistake. To this +bondage would Rita's mother sell her.</p> + +<p>Dic did not remain long with the tempting little remedy. While his hand +was on the latch she detained him with many questions, and danced about +him in pretty impatience.</p> + +<p>"Why do you go?" she asked poutingly.</p> + +<p>"You said Bob Kaster was coming," replied Dic.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you stay and I'll send him about his business quickly +enough," she returned.</p> + +<p>"Would you, Sukey?" asked Dic, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will," she responded, "or any one else, if you will stay."</p> + +<p>She took his hand again, and, leaning against him, smiled pleadingly +into his face. Her smiles were as sweet and enticing as she or any other +girl could make. There were no redder lips, no whiter teeth, nor +prettier dimples than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> Sukey's on all Blue River or any other river, and +there could be no prettier, more tempting picture than this pouting +little nymph who was pleading with our Joseph not to run away. But Dic, +not caring to remain, hurriedly closed the door and went out into the +comforting storm. After he had gone Sukey went to the ciphering log and +sat gazing meditatively into the fire. Vexation and disappointment +alternately held possession of her soul; but Dic was more attractive to +her because he was unattainable, and she imagined herself greatly +injured and deeply in love. She may have imagined the truth; but Sukey, +though small in herself, had a large, comprehensive heart wherein +several admirers might be accommodated without overtaxing its capacity, +and soon she was comforting herself with Bob Kaster.</p> + +<p>There was little rest for Dic that night. Had he been able to penetrate +darkness and log walls, and could he have seen Rita sobbing with her +face buried in her pillow, he might have slept soundly. But darkness and +log walls are not to be penetrated by ordinary eyes.</p> + +<p>Riding home from Sukey's, Dic thought he had learned to hate Rita. He +swore mighty oaths that he would never look upon her face again. But +when he had rested a little time in bed he recalled her fair face, her +gentleness, her honesty, and her thousand perfections. He remembered the +small hand he had held so tenderly a few hours since. Its magnetic +touch, soft as the hand of a duchess, still tingled through his nerves. +With these memories came an anguish that beat down his pride, and, like +Rita, he clasped his hands over his head, turned his face to his pillow, +and alas! that I should say it of a strong man, wept bitter, scalding +tears.</p> + +<p>Do the real griefs of life come with age? If Dic should live till his +years outnumbered those of Methuselah, no pain could ever come to him +worthy of mention compared to this. It awakened him to the quality and +quantity of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> love. It seemed that he had loved her ever since she +lisped his name and clung to his finger in tottering babyhood. He looked +back over the years and failed to see one moment in all the myriads of +moments when he did not believe himself first in her heart as she had +always been first in his; and now, after he had waited patiently, and +after she, out of her own full heart, had confessed her woman's love, +after she had given him herself in abject, sweet surrender, and had +taken him for her own, the thought of her perfidy was torture to him. +Then came again like a soothing balm the young memory of their last +meeting. He recalled and weighed every word, act, and look. Surely, he +thought, no woman could feign the love she had shown for him. She had +not even tried to show her love. It had been irrepressible. Why should +she wish to feign a love she did not feel? There was nothing she could +gain by deceit. But upon the heels of this slight hope came that +incontestable fact,—Williams. Dic could see her sitting with the +stranger as she had sat with himself at the step-off. Williams had been +coming for four months. She might be in his arms at that moment—the +hour was still early—before the old familiar fireplace, while the +family were in the kitchen. He could not endure the picture he had +conjured, so he rose from his bed, dressed, stole softly from the house, +and walked through the winter storm down the river to Bays's. Feeling +like a thief, he crept to the window. The night being cold, the fire had +not been banked, but threw its glow out into the room; and Dic's heart +leaped for joy when he saw the room was empty. At that same moment Rita +was in her own room, not twenty feet away from him, sobbing on her +pillow and wishing she were dead.</p> + +<p>Dic's discovery of the empty room had no real significance, but it +seemed a good omen, and he went home and slept.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rita did not sleep. She knew the first step had been taken to separate +her from Dic. She feared the separation was really effected. She had +offended this manly, patient lover so frequently that surely, she +thought, he would not forgive her this last and greatest insult. She +upbraided herself for having, through stupidity and cowardice, allowed +him to leave her. He had belonged to her for years; and the sweet +thought that she belonged to him, and that it was her God-given +privilege to give herself to him and to no other, pressed upon her +heart, and she cried out in the darkness: "I will not give him up! I +will not! If he will forgive me, I will fall upon my knees and beg him +to try me once again."</p> + +<p>Christmas was a long, wretched day for Dic. What it was to Rita you may +easily surmise. Early after supper Dic walked over to see Sukey, and his +coming filled that young lady's ardent little soul with delight. His +reasons for going would be hard to define. Perhaps his chief motive was +the hope of running away from himself, and the possibility of hearing +another budget of unwelcome news concerning Rita and Williams. He +dreaded to hear it; but he longed to know all there was to be known, and +he felt sure Sukey had exhaustive knowledge on the subject, and would be +ready to impart it upon invitation.</p> + +<p>He had been sitting with Sukey half an hour when Tom Bays walked in. +Thomas, of course, could not remain when he found the field occupied; +and much to Dic's regret and Sukey's delight he took his departure, +after a visit of ten minutes. Dic urged him to remain, saying that he +was going soon, and Sukey added, "Yes, won't you stay?" But she was far +from enthusiastic, and Thomas went home with disappointment in his heart +and profanity on his lips.</p> + +<p>When Tom entered the room where Rita was doing her best to entertain +Williams, she said, "I thought you were going to see Sukey?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dic's there," answered Tom, and Rita's white face grew whiter.</p> + +<p>Tom started toward the back door on his way to the kitchen, where his +father and mother were sitting, and Rita said, pleadingly:—</p> + +<p>"Don't go, Tom; stay here with us. Please do." She forgot Williams and +continued: "Please, brother. I don't ask much of you. This is a little +thing to do for me. Please stay here," but brother laughed and went to +the kitchen without so much as answering her.</p> + +<p>When the door closed on Tom, Rita stood for a moment in front of the +fireplace, and, covering her face with her hands, began to weep. +Williams approached her, overflowing with consolation, and placed his +hand caressingly upon her arm. She sprang from him as if she had been +stung, and cried out:—</p> + +<p>"Don't put your hand on me! Don't touch me!" She stepped backward toward +the door leading upstairs to her room.</p> + +<p>"Why, Rita," said Williams, "I did not intend anything wrong. I would +not offend you for all the world. You are nervous, Rita, and—and—"</p> + +<p>"Don't call me Rita," she interrupted, sobbing. "I hate—I hate—" she +was going to say "I hate you," but said,—"the name."</p> + +<p>He still approached her, though she had been retreating backward step by +step. He had no thought of touching her; but as he came toward her, she +lost self-control and almost screamed:—</p> + +<p>"Don't touch me, I say! Don't touch me!" She had endured his presence +till she could bear it no longer, and the thought of Dic sitting with +Sukey had so wrought upon her that her self-control was exhausted. +Williams walked back to the fireplace, and Rita, opening the stair door, +hurriedly went to her room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 417px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/fig_004.png" width="417" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Covering Her Face With Her Hands, She Began To Weep."</span> +</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p>She was not one in whom the baser sort of jealousy could exist; but the +thought of Dic, her Dic, sitting with Sukey, while she was compelled to +endure the presence of the man she had learned almost to hate, burned +her. Her jealousy did not take the form of hatred toward Sukey, and the +pain it brought her was chiefly because it confirmed her in the belief +that she had lost Dic. She did not doubt that Dic had loved her, and her +faith in that fact quickened her sense of loss. She blamed no one but +herself for the fact that he no longer loved her, and was seeking +another. Still, she was jealous, though even that unholy passion could +not be base in her.</p> + +<p>Sukey smiled and dimpled at Dic for an hour or two with no appreciable +effect. He sat watching the fire, seeing none of her little love +signals, and went home quite as wretched as he had come. Evidently, +Sukey was the wrong remedy, though upon seeing her charms one would have +felt almost justified in warranting her,—no cure, no pay. Perhaps she +was a too-willing remedy: an overdose of even the right drug may +neutralize itself. As for myself, I love Dic better because his ailment +responded to no remedy.</p> + +<p>Next day, Tom, without at all deserving it, won Rita's gratitude by +taking Williams out shooting.</p> + +<p>After supper Rita said, "My head aches, and if I may be excused, I will +go to my room."</p> + +<p>But her mother vetoed the proposition:—</p> + +<p>"Your head does not ache, and you will stay downstairs. Your father and +I are going to church, and Mr. Williams will not want to be alone, will +you, Mr. Williams?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I hope Miss Bays will keep me company," answered this +persistent, not-to-be-shaken-off suitor.</p> + +<p>So Rita remained downstairs with Williams and listened to his apologies +for having offended her the night before. She felt contrite, and in turn +told him she was the one who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> should apologize, and said she hoped he +would forgive her. Her gentle heart could not bear to inflict pain even +upon this man who had brought so much suffering to her.</p> + +<p>The next morning took Williams away, and Rita's thoughts were all +devoted to formulating a plan whereby she might see Dic and beg his +forgiveness after a fashion that would have been a revelation to +Williams.</p> + +<p>Several days of furious storm ensued, during which our Rita, for the +first time in her life, was too ill to go abroad.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bays had gone to Indianapolis with Williams, and returned on +Thursday's coach, having failed to raise the three thousand dollars. At +the supper table, on the evening of his return, Tom offered a +suggestion.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you where you can get most of the money," he said. "Dic has +twenty-six hundred dollars in Billy Little's box. He'll loan it to you."</p> + +<p>"That's just the thing," cried Mrs. Bays, joyfully. "Tom, you are the +smartest boy on Blue. It took you to help us out." One would have +thought from her praise that Tom, and not Dic, was to furnish the money. +Addressing her husband, she continued:—</p> + +<p>"You go over and see him this evening. If he won't loan it to us after +all we have done for him, he ought to be horsewhipped."</p> + +<p>"What have we ever done for him?" asked Tom. The Chief Justice sought +for an answer. Failing to find a better one, she replied:—</p> + +<p>"He's had five hundred meals in this house if he's had one."</p> + +<p>"And he's given us five hundred deer and turkeys if he's given us one," +answered Tom.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, Tom, just as well as I do, that we have always been +helping him. It is only your generous nature keeps you from saying so," +responded Mrs. Bays. Tom laughed, and Tom, Sr., said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I'll go over and see him this evening. I wonder where he has been? I +haven't seen him but once since he came home."</p> + +<p>"Guess Williams scared him off," suggested Tom.</p> + +<p>Rita tried in vain to think of some plan whereby she might warn Dic +against loaning the money, or prevent her father from asking it. After +supper Tom went to town while his father went up to see Dic.</p> + +<p>When the after-supper work was finished, Mrs. Bays took her knitting and +sat before the fire in the front room. Rita, wishing to be alone, +remained in the kitchen, watching the fire die down and cuddling her +grief. She had been there but a few minutes when the outer door opened +and in walked Dic.</p> + +<p>"I have come to ask you if you have forgotten me?" he said.</p> + +<p>The girl answered with a cry of joy, and ran to him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Dic, I have forgotten all else. Forgive me. Forgive me," she +replied, and as the tears came, he drew her to his side.</p> + +<p>"But, Rita—this man Williams?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I ... I know, Dic," she said between sobs, "I ... I know, but I can't +... can't tell you now. Wait till I can speak. But I love you. I ... can +tell you that much. I will try to ... to explain when ... I can talk."</p> + +<p>"You need explain nothing," said Dic, soothingly. "I want only to know +that you have not forgotten me. I have suffered terribly these last few +days."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad," responded the sobbing girl, unconscious of her apparent +selfishness.</p> + +<p>The kitchen fireplace was too small for a hearth log, so Dic and Rita +took chairs before the fire, and the girl, regardless of falling tears, +began her explanation.</p> + +<p>"You see, it was this way, Dic," she sobbed. "He came with Uncle Jim, +and then he came again and again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> I did not want him—I am sure you +know that I did not—but mother insisted, and I thought you would make +it all right when you returned. You know mother has heart trouble, and +any excitement may kill her. She is so—so—her will is so strong, and I +fear her and love her so much. She is my mother, and it is my duty to +obey her when—when I can. The time may come when I cannot obey her. It +has come, several times, and when I disobey her I suffer terribly and +always think how I would feel if she were to die."</p> + +<p>Dic longed to enlighten her concerning the mother heart, but could not +find it in his heart to attack even his arch-enemy through Rita's +simple, unquestioning faith. That faith was a part of the girl's +transcendent perfection, and a good daughter would surely make a good +wife.</p> + +<p>Rita continued her explanation: "He came many times to see me, and it +seems as though he grew to liking me. Then he asked me to marry him, but +I refused, Dic; I refused. I should have told him then that I had +promised to be your wife—" here she gave Dic her hand—"but I was +ashamed and—and, oh, I can't explain after all. I can't tell you how it +all happened. I thought I could; but I really do not myself understand +how it has all come about."</p> + +<p>"You have not promised him?" asked Dic in alarm.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I have not, and I never shall. He has tried, with mother's +help, to force himself upon me, and I have been frightened almost to +death for fear he would succeed. Oh, take me now, Dic. Take me at once +and save me from him."</p> + +<p>"I would, Rita, but you are not yet eighteen, and we must have the +consent of your parents before we can marry. That, you know, your mother +would refuse. When you are eighteen—but that will be almost a year from +now—I will take you home with me. Do not fear. Give me your love, and +trust to me for the rest."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now I feel safe," she cried, snatching up Dic's hand. "You are stronger +than mother. I saw that the evening before you left, when we were all on +the porch and you spoke up so bravely to her. You will meet her face to +face and beat down her will. I can't do it. I become helpless when she +attacks me. I am miserably weak. I sometimes hate myself and fear I +should not marry you. I know I shall not be able to make you a good +wife."</p> + +<p>Dic expressed an entire willingness to take the risk. "But why did you +accept a ring from him?"</p> + +<p>"I did not," responded Rita, with wide-open eyes. "He offered me a +diamond when he asked me to—to—but I refused it. I gave him back his +watch, too; but mother does not know I did. She would be angry. She +thinks the watch you gave me is the one he offered."</p> + +<p>"Sukey Yates said you showed her his ring."</p> + +<p>"Dic," returned Rita, firing up indignantly, "did Sukey tell you +that—that lie? I don't like to use the word, but, Dic, she lied. She +once saw your ring upon my finger, before I could hide it from her, but +I did not tell her who had given it to me. I told her nothing. I don't +believe she intended to tell a story. I am sorry I used the other word. +She probably thought that Mr.—Mr.—that man had given it to me." After +she had spoken, a shadowy little cloud came upon her face. "You were +over to see Sukey Christmas night," she said, looking very straight into +the fire.</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Dic. "How did you learn that I was there?"</p> + +<p>"Tom told me," she answered. "And I cried right out before Mr.—Mr.—the +Boston man."</p> + +<p>"Ah, did you?" asked Dic, leaning forward and taking her hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and when he put his hand on my arm," she continued, very proud of +the spirit she had shown, "I just flew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> at him savagely. Oh, I can be +fierce when I wish. He will never touch me again, you may depend on it." +She then gave the details of the scene with Williams, dwelling proudly +upon the fact of her successful retreat to bed, and meekly telling of +what she called her jealousy and wickedness. She had asked forgiveness +of God, and now she would ask it of Dic, evidently believing that if God +and Dic would forgive her wicked jealousy, no one else had any right to +complain. She was justly proud of the manner in which she had +accomplished the retreat movement, and really felt that she was becoming +dare-devilish to a degree seldom, if ever, equalled by an undutiful +daughter.</p> + +<p>"You don't know how wicked I can be," she said, in great earnestness.</p> + +<p>"I know how good and beautiful you are," answered Dic. "I know you are +the one perfect human being in all the world—and it is useless for me +to try to tell you how much you are to me. When I am alone, I am better +able to realize what I feel, but I cannot speak it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dic, is it really true?" asked the girl. "Neither can I tell +how—how—" but those emotions which cannot be spoken in words, owing to +the poverty of our language, must be expressed otherwise. God or Satan +taught the proper method to Adam and Eve, and it has come down to us by +patristic succession, so that we have it to-day in all its pristine +glory and expressiveness. Some have spoken against the time-honored +custom, and claim to mark its decadence. Connecticut forbade it by law +on Sundays, and frowned upon it "Fridays, Saturdays, and all"; but when +it dies, the Lord will whitewash this old earth and let it out as a moon +to shine upon happier worlds where the custom still lives.</p> + +<p>Rita and Dic did not disturb Mrs. Bays, and she, unconscious of his +presence, did not disturb them until Mr. Bays returned.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>When Mrs. Bays learned that Dic had been in the kitchen an hour, she +felt that the highest attribute of the human mind had been grossly +outraged. But her husband was about to ask a favor of Dic, and she +limited her expression of dissent to an exhibition of frigid, virtuous +dignity, worthy of the king's bench, or Judge Anselm Fisher himself.</p> + +<p>When Bays came home, Dic and Rita went into the front room and took +their old places on the ciphering log. Mr. and Mrs. Bays sat on the +hearth before the fire. Mrs. Bays brought a chair and indicated by a +gesture that Rita should occupy it; but with Dic by her side that young +lady was brave and did not observe her mother's mute commands. Amid the +press of other matters in the kitchen, Rita had not remembered to warn +Dic not to lend her father the money. When that fluttering heart of hers +was in great trouble or joy, it was apt to be a forgetful little organ, +and regret in this instance followed forgetfulness. The regret came +after she was seated with Dic on the hearth log, and, being in her +mother's presence, dared not speak.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bays was genuinely glad to see Dic, and listened with delight to the +narrative of his trip. When an opportunity arose, Tom, Sr., said:—</p> + +<p>"I have a fine opportunity to go into business with Jim Fisher. I want +to borrow three thousand dollars, and I wonder if you will be willing to +lend me your money?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Dic, eagerly, "I am glad to lend it to you." He welcomed +the proposition as a blind man would welcome light. He was glad to help +his lifelong friend; but over and above that motive Mr. Bays's request +for money seemed to mean Rita. It certainly could mean nothing else; and +if the family moved to Indianapolis, it would mean Rita in the cosey +log-cabin up the river at once. Dic and his mother lived together, and, +even with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>out Rita, the log house was a delightful home, warm in winter +and cool in summer; but the beautiful girl would transmute the log walls +to jasper, the hewed floors to beaten gold, and would create a paradise +on the banks of Blue. The thought almost made him dizzy. He had never +before felt so near to possessing her.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will," he repeated.</p> + +<p>"I will pay you the highest rate of interest," said Mr. Bays.</p> + +<p>"I want no interest, and you may repay the loan in one or ten years, as +you choose."</p> + +<p>Rita, unable to repress her desire to speak, exclaimed: "Oh, Dic, please +don't," but Mrs. Bays gazed sternly over her glasses at her daughter and +suppressed the presumptuous, forward girl. The old lady, seeing Dic's +eagerness to lend the money, seized the opportunity to lessen her +obligation in the transaction and to make it appear that she was +conferring a favor upon Dic. If she and Mr. Bays would condescend to +borrow his money, she determined that Dic should fully appreciate the +honor they were doing him. Therefore, after a formulative pause, she +spoke to her daughter:—</p> + +<p>"Mind your own affairs. Girls should be seen and not heard. Some girls +are seen altogether too much. Your father and Dic will arrange this +affair between themselves without your help. It is purely an affair of +business. Dic, of course, wishes to invest his money; and if your +father, after due consideration, is willing to help him, I am sure he +should feel obliged to us, and no doubt he will. He would be an +ungrateful person indeed if he did not. I am sure your father's note is +as good as the bank. He pays his just debts. He is my husband and could +not do otherwise. No man lives who has not at all times received his +dues from us to the last penny. If a penny is coming to us, we want it. +If we owe one, we pay it. My father,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> Judge Anselm Fisher, was the same +way. His maxim was, 'Justice to all and confusion to sinners.' He died +beholden to no man. Neither have I ever been beholden to any one. Dic is +fortunate, indeed, in finding so good an investment for his money, at +interest; very fortunate indeed."</p> + +<p>"I don't want interest," said the too eager Dic.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, that is generous in you," returned Mrs. Bays, though she was +determined that Dic should not succeed in casting the burden of an +obligation upon her shoulders. "But of course you know your money will +be safe, and that is a great deal in these days of weak banks and +robbers. If I were in Mr. Bays's place, I should pause and consider the +matter carefully and prayerfully before assuming responsibility for +anybody's money. If it should be stolen from him, he, and not you, would +lose it. I think it is very kind in him to undertake the +responsibility."</p> + +<p>That phase of the question slightly dimmed its rosiness; but Dic still +hoped that lending the money would make smoother his path to Rita. At +first he had not foreseen that he, and not the Bayses, would rest under +an obligation. To the girl the lending of this money meant Indianapolis, +Williams, and separation from Dic.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE TOURNAMENT</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Tournament</span></h4> + + +<p>Mr. Bays, rash man that he was, without care or prayer, accepted Dic's +loan and was thankful, despite the good wife's effort to convince him he +was conferring a favor. Her remarks had been much more convincing to Dic +than to her husband. The latter could not entirely throw off the feeling +that Dic was doing him a favor.</p> + +<p>The money was to be delivered and the note executed in ten days, Mrs. +Margarita insisting that Dic should be responsible for his own money +until it was needed by her husband.</p> + +<p>"He certainly would not ask us to be responsible for his money till we +can use it," she observed, in an injured tone, to her daughter. One +would have supposed from her attitude that an imposition was being put +upon her, though she, herself, being accustomed to bear the burdens of +others, would bow her neck beneath this yoke and accept the +responsibility of Dic's money. She not only convinced herself that such +was the proper view to take of the transaction, but succeeded fairly +well in impressing even Rita with that belief. Such an achievement +required generalship of the highest order; but Mrs. Bays possessed that +rare quality to a degree seldom, if ever, equalled.</p> + +<p>The loan was to bear no interest, Dic hoping to heighten the sense of +obligation in Mr. Bays. He succeeded; but of course the important member +of the family still felt that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> Dic was beholden to her. She could not, +however, with either safety or justice, exclude from her house the man +who was to lend the much-needed money. While she realized the great +favor she was conferring on Dic, and fully understood the nature of the +burden she was taking upon herself solely for his sake, she had no +thought of shrinking from her duty;—not she. The money had not been +delivered, and Dic, if offended, might change his mind and foolishly +refuse her sacrifice. It might not be entirely safe to presume too +largely upon his sense of obligation—some persons are devoid of +gratitude—until the money was in hand. For these reasons Dic was +tolerated, and during the next ten days spent his evenings with Rita, +though mother and father Bays did not migrate to the kitchen, in +accordance with well-established usage on Blue, and as they had done +when Williams came a-wooing. Dic cared little for the infringement, and +felt that old times had come again. Rita, growing bold, braved her +mother's wrath, and continued each evening to give him a moment of his +own. One evening it would be a drink from the well that she wanted. +Again, it was a gourdful of shell-barks from the cellar under the +kitchen, whence she, of course, was afraid to fetch them alone. The most +guileless heart will grow adroit under certain well-known conditions; +and even Rita, the simplest of girls, easily made opportunities to give +Dic these little moments from which she came back rosy, while that lucky +young man was far from discontented.</p> + +<p>Rita paid each evening for Dic's moment when the door closed on him, and +continued payment during the next day till his return. But she +considered the moment a great bargain at the price, continued her +purchases, and paid the bills on demand to incarnate Justice. The bills +were heavy, and had not Rita been encased by an armor of trusty steel, +wrought from the links of her happiness, her soft, white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> form would +have been pierced through and through by the tough, ashen shafts of her +mother's relentless cruelty.</p> + +<p>We are apt to feel pain and suffering comparatively. To one who has +experienced a great agony, smaller troubles seem trivial. Rita had +experienced her great agony, and her mother's thrusts were but needle +pricks compared with it.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Arrangements were quickly made for moving to Indianapolis, and at the +end of ten days all was ready for the money to be delivered. Dic again +asked for Rita, and Mr. Bays was for delivering the girl at once. His +new venture at Indianapolis had stimulated his sense of self-importance, +and he insisted, with a temerity never before dared, that Dic, whom he +truly loved, should have the daughter whom they each loved. But the +Chief Justice would agree to nothing more than an extension of the +armistice, and graciously consented that Dic might visit the <i>family</i> at +Indianapolis once in a while.</p> + +<p>After Dic had agreed to lend the money, he at once notified Billy +Little, in whose strong-box it was stored. Dic, in the course of their +conversation, expressed to Billy the sense of obligation he felt to the +Bayses.</p> + +<p>"I declare," vowed Billy, "that old woman is truly great. When she goes +to heaven, she will convince St. Peter that she is doing him a favor by +entering the pearly gates. Neither will she go in unless everything +suits her. There is not another like her. Archimedes said he could lift +the world with a lever if he had a fulcrum. Undiluted egotism is the +fulcrum. But one must actually believe in one's self to be effective. +One cannot impose a sham self-faith upon the world. Only the man who +believes his own lie can lie convincingly. Egad! Dic, it would have been +beautiful to see that self-sufficient old harridan attempting to +convince you that she was conferring a favor by taking your money.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> You +will probably never see a fippenny bit of it again. And without +interest! Jove! I say it was beautiful. Had she wanted your liver, I +suppose you would have thanked her for accepting it. She is a wonder."</p> + +<p>These remarks opened Dic's eyes and convinced him that the New York trip +had not effaced all traces of unsophistication.</p> + +<p>In those days of weak strong-boxes and numerous box-breakers, men +hesitated to assume the responsibility of taking another's gold for +safe-keeping. There could be no profit to Billy Little in Dic's gold. He +took it to keep for him only because he loved him. The sum total of +Billy's wealth, aside from his stock of goods valued at a thousand +dollars, consisted of notes, secured by mortgages, amounting to four +thousand dollars. Of this sum he had lent five hundred dollars to Dic, +who had repaid him in gold. The money had been placed in Billy Little's +strong-box with Dic's twenty-six hundred dollars. Each sum of gold was +contained in a canvas shot-bag. Of course news of Dic's wealth had +spread throughout the town and country, and had furnished many a +pleasant hour of conversation among persons with whom topics were +scarce.</p> + +<p>Late one night Billy Little's slumbers were disturbed by a noise in the +store, and his mind at once turned to the gold. He rose quickly, seized +his shot-gun, and opened the door leading into the storeroom just in +time to see two men climb out through the open window near the +post-office boxes. Billy ran to the window and saw the men a hundred +yards away. He climbed out and hurried in pursuit, but the men were soon +out of sight, and Billy returned shivering to the store. He could see by +the dim light from the window that the doors of his strong-box were +standing open. There was no need to examine the box. Billy well knew the +gold had vanished. He shut the iron doors and went back to his room, +poked the fire, seated himself at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> the piano, and for the next hour ran +through his favorite repertoire, closing the concert with "Annie +Laurie." Then he went to bed and slept like an untroubled child till +morning.</p> + +<p>The safe had been unlocked by means of a false key. There were no +visible signs of robbery, and Billy Little determined to tell no one of +his loss. The first question that confronted him in the morning was, +what should be done about the loss of Dic's gold? That proposition he +quickly settled. He went across the road to the inn, got his breakfast, +returned to his room, donned his broadcloth coat, made thirty years +before in London, took from his strong-box notes to the amount of +twenty-six hundred dollars, and left for Indianapolis by the noon stage. +At Indianapolis he sold the notes and brought back Dic's gold. This he +kept in his iron box during the day and under his pillow at night.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The household effects of the Bays family were placed in two wagons to be +taken to Indianapolis. Dic had offered to drive one team, and Tom was to +drive the other. Mr. Bays had preceded the family by a day or two; but +before leaving he and Dic had gone to Billy Little's store for the +money. Dic, of course, knew nothing of the robbery. Billy had privately +advised his young friend to lend the money payable on demand.</p> + +<p>"You should buy a farm when a good opportunity offers," said he. "Land +hereabouts will increase in value a hundred per cent in ten years. You +should not tie up your money for a long time."</p> + +<p>Billy made the same representation to Bays, and that gentleman, eager to +get the money on any terms, agreed with him. Little's real, though +unspoken, reason was this: he felt that if Dic held a debt against Bays, +collectible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> upon demand, it would be a protection against Mrs. +Margarita's too keen sense of justice, and might prove an effective help +in winning Rita from the icy dragoness. Therefore, the note was drawn +payable on demand. When Mrs. Bays learned that fact, she named over to +her spouse succinctly the various species of fool of which he was the +composite representative. The satisfaction she felt in unbosoming +herself was her only reward, for the note remained collectible on +demand.</p> + +<p>The weather was very cold, and the snow-covered road would be rough. So +it had been determined that Rita and her mother should travel to +Indianapolis by the stage coach. But when the wagons were ready to +start, at sun-up, Mrs. Bays being in bed, Rita basely deserted that +virtuous woman and climbed over the front wheel to the seat beside Dic. +She left a note for her mother, saying that she would go with the wagon +to save the seven shilling stage fare. She knew she was making a heavy +purchase of "moments," and was sure she would be called upon for instant +payment that night when she should meet her mother. She was willing to +pay the price, whatever it might be, for the chariot of Phœbus would +have been a poor, tame conveyance compared with the golden car whereon +she rode.</p> + +<p>The sun was barely above the horizon, and the crisp, cold air was filled +with glittering frost dust when the wagons crossed Blue on the ice at +the ford below Bays's barn. The horses' breath came from their nostrils +like steam from kettle-spouts, and the tires, screaming on the frozen +snow, seemed to laugh for joy. It would have been a sad moment for Rita +had she not been with Dic; but with him by her side she did not so much +as turn her head for one backward look upon the home she was leaving.</p> + +<p>Dic wore a coat made from mink pelts which he had taken in the hunt, and +he so wrapped and enveloped Rita<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> in a pair of soft bearskin robes that +the cold could not come near her. He covered her head, mouth, nose, and +cheeks with a great fur cap of his own; but he left her eyes exposed, +saying, "I must be able to see them, you know." As he fastened the +curtains of the cap under her chin, he received a flashing answer from +the eyes that would have warmed him had he been clothed in gossamer and +the mercury freezing in the bulb.</p> + +<p>If I were to tell you all the plans that were formulated upon that wagon +while it jolted and bumped over the frozen ruts of the Michigan road; if +I were to write down here all the words of hope and confidence in the +fickle future; if I were to tell you of the glances, touches, and words +of love that were given and spoken between sun-up and sun-down upon this +chariot of the gods—I will say of the blind god—I should never finish +writing, nor would you ever finish reading.</p> + +<p>It was:—</p> + +<p>"You will write to me every day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, every day."</p> + +<p>"You will think of me every day and night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dic, every moment, and—"</p> + +<p>"You will come back to me soon—very soon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dic, whenever you choose to take me."</p> + +<p>"And you will be brave against your mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, brave as I can be, for your sake, Dic. But you must not forget +that I cannot be very brave long at a time without help from you! Oh, +Dic, how can I bear to be so far away from you? I shall see you only on +Sundays; a whole week apart! You have never been from me so long since I +can remember till you went to New York. I told you trouble would come +from that trip; but you will come to me Sundays—by Saturday night's +stage?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, every Sunday."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><p>"Surely? You will never fail me? I shall die of disappointment if you +fail me once. All week I shall live on the hope of Sunday."</p> + +<p>"I'll come, Rita. You need not fear."</p> + +<p>"And Dic, you will not go often to see Sukey Yates, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll not speak to her, if you wish. She is nothing to me. I'll not go +near her."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't ask that. I fear I am very selfish. You will be lonely when +I am gone and—and you may go to see Sukey—and—and the other girls +once in a while. But you won't go too often to see Sukey and—and you +won't grow to caring for her—one bit, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I will not go at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you must; I command you. You would think I do not trust you if +I would not let you go at all. I don't entirely trust her, though I am +sure I am wrong and wicked to doubt her; but I trust you, and would +trust you with any one."</p> + +<p>"I, too, trust you, Rita. It will be impossible for you to mistreat +Williams, associated as he is with your father. For the sake of peace, +treat him well, but—"</p> + +<p>"He shall never touch my hand, Dic; that I swear! I can't keep him from +coming to our house, but it will be torture when I shall be wanting you. +Oh, Dic—" and tears came before she could take her hands from under the +bearskins to cover her face. But as I said, I cannot tell you all the +plans and castles they built, nor shall I try.</p> + +<p>The wise man buildeth many castles, but he abideth not therein, lest +they crumble about his ears and crush him. Castles built of air often +fall of stone. Therefore, only the foolish man keeps revel in the great +hall or slumbers in the donjon-keep.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Early upon the second Sunday after the Bayses' advent to Indianapolis, +Dic, disdaining the stage, rode a-horseback<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> and covered the distance +before noon. Mr. Bays and Tom received him with open arms. Rita would +have done likewise in a more literal sense could she have had him alone +for a moment. But you can see her smiles and hear her gentle heart +beats, even as Dic saw and heard them. A bunch of cold, bony fingers was +given to Dic by Mother Justice. When he arrived Williams was present +awaiting dinner, and after Mrs. Bays had given the cold fingers, she +said:—</p> + +<p>"I suppose we'll have to try to crowd another plate on the table. We +didn't expect an extra guest."</p> + +<p>Rita endured without complaint her mother's thrusts when she alone +received them, but rebelled when Dic was attacked. In the kitchen she +told her mother that she would insult Williams if Mrs. Bays again +insulted Dic. The girl was so frightened by her own boldness that she +trembled, and although the mother's heart showed signs of weakness, +there was not time, owing to the scorching turkey, for a total collapse. +There was, however, time for a few random biblical quotations, and they +were almost as effective as heart failure in subduing the insolent, +disobedient, ungrateful, sacrilegious, wicked daughter for whom the fond +mother had toiled and suffered and endured, lo! these many years.</p> + +<p>When Rita and her mother returned to the front room to invite the guests +to dinner, Dic thanked Mrs. Bays, and said he would go to the tavern. +Rita's face at once became a picture of woe, but she was proud of Dic's +spirit, and gloried in his exhibition of self-respect. When Mrs. Bays +saw that Dic resented her insult, she insisted that he should remain. +She said there was plenty for all, and that there was more room at the +table than she had supposed. But Dic took his hat and started toward the +door. Tom tried to take the hat from his hand, saying:—</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Dic, you will stay. You must," and Mr. Bays said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Come, come, boy, don't be foolish. It has been a long time since you +took a meal with us. It will seem like old times again. Put down your +hat."</p> + +<p>Dic refused emphatically, and Tom, taking up his own hat, said:—</p> + +<p>"If Dic goes to the inn, I go with him. Mother's a damned old fool." I +wish I might have heard the undutiful son speak those blessed words!</p> + +<p>Williams was delighted when Rita did not insist upon Dic's remaining, +but his delight died ignominiously when the girl with tears in her eyes +took Dic's hand before them all and said:—</p> + +<p>"Come back to me soon, Dic. I will be waiting for you."</p> + +<p>Our little girl is growing brave, but she trembles when she thinks of +the wrath to come.</p> + +<p>Dinner was a failure. Mrs. Bays thought only of the note payable on +demand, and feared that her offensive conduct to Dic might cause its +instant maturity. If the note had been in her own hands under similar +circumstances, and if she had been in Dic's place, she well knew that +serious results would have followed. She judged Dic by herself, and +feared she had made a mistake.</p> + +<p>There were but two modes of living in peace with this woman—even in +semi-peace. Domineer her coldly, selfishly, and cruelly as did Tom, and +she would be a worm; or submit to her domineering, be a worm yourself, +and she would be a tyrant. Those who insist on domineering others +usually have their way. The world is too good-natured and too lazy to +combat them. Fight them with their own weapons, and they become an easy +prey. Tom was his mother's own son. He domineered her, his father, and +Rita; but, like his mother, his domineering was inflicted only upon +those whose love for him made them unresisting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>But I have wandered from the dinner. Rita sat by Williams, but she did +not eat, and vouchsafed to him only such words as were absolutely +necessary to answer direct questions.</p> + +<p>Williams was a handsome fellow, and many girls would have been glad to +answer his questions volubly. He, like Mrs. Bays, was of a domineering +nature, and clung to a purpose once formed with the combative tenacity +of a bull-dog or the cringing persistency of a hound. Success in all his +undertakings was his object, and he cared little about the means to +desired ends. Such a man usually attains his end; among other +consummations, he is apt to marry a rare, beautiful girl who hates him.</p> + +<p>"Dic is like a brother to Rita," said Mrs. Bays, in explanation of her +daughter's conduct. "Her actions may seem peculiar to a stranger, but +she could only feel for him the affection she might give to a brother."</p> + +<p>"Brother!" exclaimed Rita, in accent of contempt, though she did not +look up from her plate. The young lady was growing rebellious. Wait for +the reckoning, girl! Rita's red flag of rebellion silenced Mrs. Bays for +the time being, and she attempted no further explanations.</p> + +<p>Poor father Bays could think of nothing but Dic eating dinner at the +tavern. Rita trembled in rebellion, and was silent. After a time the +general chilliness penetrated even Williams's coat of polish, and only +the clinking of the knives and forks broke the uncomfortable stillness. +Dic was well avenged.</p> + +<p>Soon after dinner Tom and Dic returned. Tom went to the kitchen, and his +mother said:—</p> + +<p>"Tom, my son, your words grieved me, and I—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, shut up," answered De Triflin'. "Your heart'll bust if you talk too +much. Do you want to make Dic sue us for the money we owe him, and throw +us out of business? Don't you know we would have to go back to Blue if +Dic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> asked for his money? If you hain't got any sense, you ought to keep +your mouth shut."</p> + +<p>"Tom, you should be ashamed," said Rita, looking reproachfully at her +brother.</p> + +<p>"You shut up too," answered Tom. "Go in and talk to your two beaux. God! +but you're popular. How are you going to manage them to-night?"</p> + +<p>That question had presented itself before, and Rita had not been able to +answer it.</p> + +<p>After Mrs. Bays had gone from the kitchen, Tom repeated his question:—</p> + +<p>"How will you manage them to-night, Sis?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Rita, almost weeping. "I suppose Dic will go +away. He has more pride than—than the other. I suppose Mr. Williams +will stay. Tom, if you find an opportunity, I want you to tell Dic to +stay—tell him I want him to stay. He must stay with me until Williams +goes, even if it is all night. Please do this for me, brother, and I'll +do anything for you that you ask—I always do."</p> + +<p>But Tom laughed, and said, "No, I'll not mix in. I like Dic; but, Sis, +you're a fool if you don't take Williams. The Tousy girls would jump at +him. They were at the tavern, and laughed at Dic's country ways."</p> + +<p>Tom lied about the Tousy girls. They were splendid girls, and their +laughter had not been at Dic's country ways. In fact, the eldest Miss +Tousy had asked Tom the name of his handsome friend.</p> + +<p>Tom left Rita, and her tears fell unheeded as she finished the +after-dinner work. For ten days she had looked forward to this Sunday, +and after its tardy arrival it was full of grief, despite her joy at +seeing Dic.</p> + +<p>At two o'clock Williams left, and the remainder of the afternoon richly +compensated the girl for her earlier troubles. Tom went out, and about +four o'clock Mr. Bays<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> went for a walk while Justice was sleeping +upstairs. During the father's absence, Dic and Rita had a delightful +half hour to themselves, during which her tongue made ample amends for +its recent silence, and talked such music to Dic as he had never before +heard. She had, during the past ten days, made memoranda of the subjects +upon which she wished to speak, fearing, with good reason, that she +would forget them all, in the whirl of her joy, if she trusted to +memory. So the memoranda were brought from a pocket, and the subjects +taken up in turn. To Dic that half hour was well worth the ride to +Indianapolis and home again. To her it was worth ten times ten days of +waiting, and the morning with its wretched dinner was forgotten.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Margarita, stricken by Tom's words, had been thinking all the +afternoon of the note payable on demand, and had grown to fear the +consequences of her conduct at dinner-time. She had hardly grown out of +the feeling that Dic was a boy, but his prompt resentment of her cold +reception awakened her to the fact that he might soon become a dangerous +man. Rita's show of rebellion also had an ominous look. She was nearing +the dangerous age of eighteen and could soon marry whom she chose. Dic +might carry her off, despite the watchfulness of open-eyed Justice, and +cause trouble with the note her husband had so foolishly given. All +these considerations moved Margarita, the elder, to gentleness, and when +she came downstairs she said:—</p> + +<p>"Dic, I am surprised and deeply hurt. We always treat you without +ceremony, as one of the family, and I didn't mean that I didn't want you +to stay for dinner. I did want you, and you must stay for supper."</p> + +<p>Dic's first impulse was to refuse the invitation; but the pleading in +Rita's eyes was more than he could resist, and he remained.</p> + +<p>How different was the supper from the dinner! Rita<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> was as talkative as +one could ask a girl to be, and Mrs. Bays would have referred to the +relative virtues of hearing and seeing girls, had she not been in +temporary fear of the demand note. Tom was out for supper with Williams. +Mr. Bays told all he knew; and even the icy dragoness, thawed by the +genial warmth, unbent to as great a degree as the daughter of Judge +Anselm Fisher might with propriety unbend, and was actually +pleasant—for her. After supper Dic insisted that Mrs. Bays should go to +the front room, and that he should be allowed, as in olden times, when +he was a boy, to assist Rita in "doing up" the after-supper work. So he, +wearing an apron, stood laughingly by Rita's side drying the dishes +while she washed them. There were not enough dishes by many thousand, +and when the paltry few before them had been dried and placed in a large +pan, Dic, while Rita's back was turned, poured water over them, and, of +course, they all had to be dried again. Rita laughed, and began her task +anew.</p> + +<p>"Who would have thought," she whispered, shrugging her shoulders, "that +washing dishes could be such pleasant work."</p> + +<p>Dic acknowledged his previous ignorance on the subject. He was for +interrupting the work semi-occasionally, but when the interruptions +became too frequent, she would say: "Don't, Dic," and laughingly push +him away. She was not miserly. She was simply frugal, and Dic had no +good reason to complain. After every dish had been washed and dried many +times, Rita started toward her torture chamber, the front room.</p> + +<p>At the door she whispered to Dic:—</p> + +<p>"Mr.—that man is in there. He will remain all evening, and I want you +to stay till he goes."</p> + +<p>"Very well," responded Dic. "I don't like that sort of thing, but if you +wish, I'll stay till morning rather than leave him with you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>Williams was on hand, and as a result Rita had no words for any one. +There was no glorious fireplace in the room, and consequently no cosey +ciphering log. In its place was an iron stove, which, according to Rita, +made the atmosphere "stuffy."</p> + +<p>Toward nine o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Bays retired, and the "sitting-out" +tournament began. The most courteous politeness was assumed by the +belligerent forces, in accordance with established custom in all +tournaments.</p> + +<p>The great clock in the corner struck ten, eleven, and twelve o'clock. +Still the champions were as fresh as they had been at nine. No one could +foretell the victor, though any one could easily have pointed out the +poor victim. After ten o'clock the conversation was conducted almost +entirely by Williams and Dic, with a low monosyllable now and then from +Rita when addressed. She, poor girl, was too sleepy to talk, even to +Dic. Soon after twelve o'clock the knight from Blue, pitying her, showed +signs of surrender; but she at once awoke and mutely gave him to +understand that she would hold him craven should he lower his lance +point while life lasted. The clock struck one.</p> + +<p>The champions had exhausted all modern topics and were beginning on old +Rome. Dic wondered what would be the hour when they should reach Greece +and Egypt in their backward flight. But after the downfall of Rome, near +the hour of two, Sir Roger was unhorsed, and went off to his castle and +to bed. Then Rita bade Dic good-by, after exacting from him a solemn +promise to return the next Sunday.</p> + +<p>Rita thought Dic's victory was a good omen, and drew much comfort from +it. She tried to lie awake to nurse her joy, but her eyes were so heavy +that she fell asleep in the midst of her prayer.</p> + +<p>Dic saddled his horse and started home. The sharp, crisp air was +delicious. The starlit sky was a canopy of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> never ceasing beauty, and +the song in his heart was the ever sweet song of hope. The four hours' +ride seemed little more than a journey of as many minutes; and when he +stabled his horse at home, just as the east was turning gray and the +sun-blinded stars were blinking, he said to himself:—</p> + +<p>"A fifty-two-mile ride and twenty-four hours of +happiness,—anticipation, realization, and memory,—cheap!"</p> + +<p>He slept for two or three hours and hunted all day long. Tuesday's stage +brought a letter from Rita, and it is needless to speak of its +electrifying effect on Dic. There was a great deal of "I" and "me" and +"you" in the letter, together with frequent repetitions; but tautology, +under proper conditions, may have beauties of its own, not at all to be +despised.</p> + +<p>Dic went to town Tuesday evening and sat before Billy Little's fire till +ten o'clock, telling our worthy little friend of recent events. They +both laughed over the "sitting-out" tournament.</p> + +<p>"It begins to look as if you would get her," remarked Billy, leaning +forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees. He was +intensely jealous of Williams, and was eager to help Dic in any manner +possible.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are right, Billy Little," replied Dic. "When persons agree +as do Rita and I, there should be a law against outside interference."</p> + +<p>"There is such a law," answered Billy—"God's law, but most persons have +greater respect for a legislative statute."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you were religious," said Dic.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am. Every man with any good in him is religious. One +doesn't have to be a Methodist, a Baptist, or a Roman Catholic to be +religious. But bless my soul, Dic, I don't want to preach." He leaned +forward looking into the fire, took his pipe from his mouth and, as +usual, hummed Maxwelton's braes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If Rita were a different girl, my task would be easier," observed Dic. +"She is too tender-hearted and affectionate to see faults in any one who +is near to her. Notwithstanding her mother's cruelty and hypocrisy, Rita +loves her passionately and believes she is the best and greatest of +women. She stands in fear of her, too, and when the diabolical old fiend +quotes Scripture, no matter how irrelevantly, or has heart trouble, the +girl loses self-control and would give up her life if her mother wanted +it. Rita is a coward, too; but that is a sweet fault in a woman, and I +would not have her different in any respect. I believe Mrs. Bays has +greater respect for me since I lent the money. I could see the good +effect immediately."</p> + +<p>"Her respect would not have been so perceptible had you taken a note +payable in one or two years. Hold that demand note as a club over the +old woman, and perhaps you will get the girl."</p> + +<p>"Was that your reason for advising me to take the note payable on +demand?" asked Dic.</p> + +<p>"It was one of my reasons—perhaps the chief one."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll write to Mr. Bays asking him to draw a new note payable in +two years," said Dic.</p> + +<p>Billy took a small piece of paper, wrote a line or two, and handed it to +Dic, saying:—</p> + +<p>"Sign this and deliver it to Williams when you take Bays's note due in +two years."</p> + +<p>The slip read, "Pay on demand to Roger Williams, Esq., one Rita Bays."</p> + +<p>Dic laughed nervously, and said: "I guess you're right, as usual. After +all, it is a shame that I should take her to my poor log-cabin when she +might have a mansion in Boston and all that money can buy. If I were an +unselfish man, I should release my claims to her." A silence of several +moments ensued, during which Billy drew the leather trunk from under the +bed and took a fresh letter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> from the musty package we have already +seen. He drew his chair near to the candle, slipped the letter from its +envelope, and slowly read its four pages to himself. After gazing at the +fire for several minutes in meditation he said:—</p> + +<p>"I received a Christmas gift, Dic. It came from England. I got it this +morning. It is the miniature of an old friend. I have not seen or heard +from her in thirty years. I also have a letter. If you wish, you may be +the only person in all the world, save myself, to read it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I'll be glad—if you wish me to read it. You know I am deeply +interested in all that touches you."</p> + +<p>"I believe I know," answered Billy, handing him the letter across the +table. Dic read to himself:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> + +----, <span class="smcap">England</span>, 18<br /> +</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>: Each Christmas day for many years have I written a +letter to you, but none of them have ever been seen by any eyes +save my own. I have always intended sending them to you, but my +courage upon each occasion has failed me, and none of them has ever +reached you. This one I mean to send. I wonder if I shall do so? +How many years is it, my friend, since that day, so full of +pain,—ah, so full of pain,—when I returned the ring you had given +me, and you released me to another. In your letter you made +pretence that you did not suffer, knowing that I would suffer for +the sake of your pain. But you did not deceive me. I knew then, as +I know now, that you released me because you supposed the position +and wealth which were offered me would bring happiness. But, my +friend, that was a mistaken generosity. Life has been rich in many +ways. I have wealth and exalted position, and am honored and envied +by many. My husband is a good, kind man. I have no children and am +thankful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> in lacking them. A woman willingly bears children only +for the man she loves. But, oh, my friend, the weariness that never +ceases, the yearning that never stops, the dull pain that never +really eases, have turned me gray, and I am old before my time. I +fear the longing and the pain are sinful, and nightly I pray God to +take them from my heart. At times He answers, in a degree, my +prayers, and I almost forget; but again, He forsakes me, and at +those moments my burden seems heavier than I can bear. One may +easily endure if one has a bright past or a happy future to look +upon. One may live over and over again one's past joys, or may draw +upon a hopeful future; but a dead, ashen past, a barren present, +and a hopeless future bring us at times to rebellion against an +all-wise God because He has given us life. Time is said to heal all +wounds; but it has failed with me, and they, I fear, will ache so +long as I live. I suppose you, too, are old, though you will always +be young to me, and doubtless the snow is also in your hair. I, +sinful one that I am, send you with this letter, my miniature and a +lock of my hair, that you may realize the great change that has +been wrought in me by time. This letter I surely will post. May it +take to you in the wilderness a part of my wretchedness, for so +selfish am I that I would take comfort in knowing that I do not +suffer alone. I retract the last sentence and in its place ask, not +that you suffer, but that you do not forget. In health I am blessed +beyond my deserts, and I hope the same comfort abides with you. You +will hear from me never again. I have allowed myself this one +delightful moment of sin, and God, I know, will give me strength +against another. I wish you all the good that one human being can +wish another.</p> + + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">"Regretfully, fondly, farewell.<br /> +</p> +<p class="citation">"<span class="smcap">Rita.</span>"<br /> +</p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dic, almost in tears, returned the letter to Billy Little, and that +worthy man, wishing to rob the scene of its sentimentality, said:—</p> + +<p>"She says she supposes my hair is gray! She doesn't know I am as bald as +a gourd. Here is her miniature. I'll not send her mine; she might +laugh."</p> + +<p>Dic took the picture and saw a sweet, tender face, fringed by white +curls, and aglow with soft, brown eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do you see a resemblance in the miniature to—to any one you know?" +asked Billy Little.</p> + +<p>"By George!" exclaimed Dic, holding the picture at arm's length, +"Rita—her mouth, her eyes; the same name, too," and he kissed the +miniature rapturously.</p> + +<p>"Look here, young fellow," cried Billy Little. "Hand me that miniature. +You shan't be kissing all my female friends. By Jove! if she were to +come over here, I'd drive you out of the settlement with a shot-gun, +'deed if I wouldn't. Now you will probably change your mind about +unselfishly surrendering Rita to Williams. I tell you, Dic, a fool +conscience is more to be dreaded than a knavish heart."</p> + +<p>"You are always right, Billy Little, though, to tell you the truth, I +had no intention whatever of surrendering Rita to any one," returned +Dic.</p> + +<p>"I know you hadn't. Of course I knew you could not even have spoken +about it had you any thought that it might be possible."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A KISS AND A DUEL</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">A Kiss and a Duel</span></h4> + + +<p>I shall not attempt to give you an account of Dic's numerous journeyings +to Indianapolis. With no abatement in affection, the period of his +visits changed from weekly to fortnightly, and then to monthly. +Meantime, Williams was adroitly plying his suit; and by convincing Rita +that he had abandoned the rôle of lover for that of friend, he succeeded +in regaining her confidence. As agent for his father's products, he had +an office at Indianapolis, and large sums of money passed through his +hands. He and Tom became great cronies, for it was Williams's intention +to leave no stone unturned, the turning of which might assist him in +winning Rita. His passion for the girl became almost desperate at times, +and her unmistakable coldness added fuel to the flame. He well knew she +did not love him; but, like many another mistaken man, he believed he +could teach her that great lesson if she were his wife, and could not +believe that she entertained either a serious or a lasting sentiment for +so inferior a person as Diccon Bright. Williams had invariably found +smooth sailing with other young ladies; and head winds in Rita's case +caused the harbor to appear fairer than any other for which he had ever +trimmed his sails.</p> + +<p>Soon after Rita's entrance into Indianapolis society she became popular +with the fair sex and admired of the unfair; that condition, in my +opinion, being an unusual tri<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>umph for any young woman. To that end +Williams was of great assistance. A rich, cultured society man of Boston +was sure to cut a great figure among the belles and mothers of a small +frontier town. The girl whom Williams delighted to honor necessarily +assumed importance in the eyes of her sisters. In most cases they would +have disliked her secretly in direct ratio to the cube of their outward +respect; but Rita was so gentle and her beauty was so exquisite, yet +unassertive, that the girl soon numbered among her friends all who knew +her. There were the Tousy and the Peasly girls, the Wright girls and the +Morrisons, to say nothing of the Smiths, Browns, and Joneses, many of +whom were the daughters of cultured parents. If any one nowadays +believes that Indianapolis—little spot in the wilderness though it +was—lacked refined society during the thirties, he is much mistaken. +Servants were scarce, and young ladies of cultured homes might any day +be called upon to cook the dinner or the supper, and afterward to "do +up" the work; but they could leave the kitchen after preparing a good +meal, walk into the parlor and play Beethoven and Mozart with credit to +themselves and their instructors, and pleasure to their audience. They +could leave the piano and discuss Shakespeare, Addison, Dick Steele, +Provost, and Richardson; and, being part of the immutable feminine, +could also discuss their neighbors upon occasion, and speak earnestly +upon the serious subject of frocks and frills. As to beauty—but that is +a benediction granted to all times and places, creating more or less +trouble everywhere.</p> + +<p>The Tousy girls, having wealth, beauty, and numbers—there were five of +them, ranging in years from fifteen to twenty-five—led the social +march; and they at once placed the stamp of unqualified approval upon +our little country girl from Blue. The eldest of the Tousy brood was, of +course, Miss Tousy; then came Sue, Kate, and the others,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> both of whom, +naturally, had names of their own. Miss Tousy will soon make her +appearance again in these pages for a short time. Her own romance I +should like to tell you some day.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The firm of Fisher and Fox thrived famously during the first few months +of their partnership, and that Tom might not be ashamed of Rita when in +society, Mrs. Bays consented that she should have some new gowns, hats, +and wraps. All this fine raiment pleased Dic for Rita's sake, and +troubled him for his own.</p> + +<p>The first he saw of the new gowns was on a certain bright Sunday +afternoon in spring. Rita's heart had been divided between two desires: +she longed to tell Dic in her letters of her beautiful new gowns, but +she also wished to surprise him. By a masterful effort she took the +latter course, and coming downstairs after dinner upon the Sunday +mentioned she burst suddenly upon Dic in all her splendor. Her delight +was so intense that she could not close her lips for smiling, and Dic +was fairly stunned by her grandeur and beauty. She turned this way and +that, directing him to observe the beautiful tints and the fashionable +cut of her garments, and asked him if the bonnet with its enormous +"poke," filled with monster roses, was not a thing of beauty and a joy +so long as it should last. Dic agreed with her, and told her with truth +that he had never seen a fashion so sweet and winsome. Then he received +his reward, after being cautioned not to disturb the bonnet, and they +started out for a walk in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>Dic's garments were good enough,—he had bought them in New York,—but +Rita's outfit made his clothes look poor and rusty. Ever since her +residence in Indianapolis he had felt the girl slipping away from him, +and this new departure in the matter of dress seemed to be a further +departure in the matter of Rita. In that conclusion he was wrong.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> The +girl had been growing nearer to him day by day. Her heart belonged to +him more entirely than it had even on the banks of Blue, and she longed +for the sycamore divan and the royal canopy of elm. Still, she loved her +pretty gowns.</p> + +<p>"I am almost afraid of you," said Dic, when he had closed the gate and +was taking his place beside her for the walk.</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Rita, delightedly. Her heart was full of the spring and +Dic; what more could she desire?</p> + +<p>"Your gown, your bonnet, your dainty shoes, your gloves, your beauty, +all frighten me," said Dic. "I can't believe they belong to me. I can't +realize they are mine."</p> + +<p>"But they are," she said, flashing up to him a laughing glance from her +eyes. "My new gown should not frighten you."</p> + +<p>"But it does," he returned, "and you, too."</p> + +<p>"I am glad if I frighten you," she answered, while lacing her gloves. "I +have been afraid of you long enough. It is your turn now."</p> + +<p>"You have been afraid of me?" asked Dic in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she returned quite seriously. "I have always been slightly afraid +of you, and I hope I always shall be. The night of Scott's social I was +simply frightened to death, and before that night for a long, long time +I was in constant fear of you. I was afraid you would speak of—you +know—and I was afraid you would not. I did not know what terrible +catastrophe would happen if you did speak, and I did not know what would +happen to me if you did not. So you see I have always been afraid of +you," she said laughingly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Rita, I would not harm a hair of your head."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. I did not fear you in that way. You are so strong and +big and masterful; that is what frightens me. Perhaps I enjoy fearing +you just a bit."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But you are so much grander than I," returned Dic, "that you seem to be +farther from me than ever before."</p> + +<p>"Farther?" she asked in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you seem to be drifting from me ever since you came to +Indianapolis," he returned.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Dic, I have been feeling just the reverse," and her eyes opened +wide as she looked into his without faltering. There was not a thought +in all their gentle depths she would not gladly have him know. A short +silence ensued, during which she was thinking rapidly, and her thoughts +produced these remarkable words:—</p> + +<p>"You should have taken me long ago." Dic wondered how he might have +taken her; but failing to discover any mistake, he went on:—</p> + +<p>"I am going to New York again this spring and,—and you will be past +eighteen when I return. You can then marry me without your mother's +consent, if you will. Will you go home with me when I return?"</p> + +<p>The eyes and the face were bent toward the ground, but the lips +whispered distinctly, "Yes, Dic," and that young man bitterly regretted +the publicity of their situation.</p> + +<p>Soon our strollers met other young persons, and Dic was presented. All +were dressed in holiday attire, and the young man from Blue felt that +his companion and her friends outshone him completely. Rita was proud of +him, and said as much in reply to Dic's remark when they resumed their +walk.</p> + +<p>"You might come to see me during the week, when the stores are open," +she said, "and you might buy one of the new-fashioned hats. If you can +afford it, you might order a long coat for Sunday. Polished shoes would +look well, too; but I am satisfied with you as you are. I only suggest +these purchases because you seem to feel uncomfortable."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>After Rita's suggestion he did feel uncomfortable. He had earned no +money since his return from New York, and Rita's fine feathers had been +purchased by the proceeds of his twenty-six hundred dollars invested in +her father's business. Therefore, hat, coat, and shoes were not within +his reach unless he should go into debt, and that he had no thought of +doing.</p> + +<p>With her husband's increasing prosperity, Mrs. Bays grew ever more +distant in her manner toward Dic. Rita, having once learned that +rebellion did not result in instant death to her or to her parent, had +taken courage, and governed her treatment of Williams by her mother's +conduct toward Dic. Therefore Justice, though stern, was never +insulting.</p> + +<p>After Rita's suggestion bearing upon the coat, Dic, though ardently +desiring to see her, dreaded to go to Indianapolis, and at that time his +visits became monthly, much to Rita's grief. She complained in her +letters, and her gentle reproaches were pathetic and painful to Dic.</p> + +<p>Tom frequently visited the old home, and, incidentally, Sukey Yates, +upon whom his city manner and fashionable attire made a tremendous +impression. Returning home from his visits to Sukey, Tom frequently +spoke significantly of Dic's visits to that young lady's ciphering log, +and Rita winced at her brother's words, but said nothing. Miss Yates +probably multiplied the number of Dic's visits by two or more in +speaking of them to Tom, having in mind the double purpose of producing +an effect upon that young man and also upon his sister. But there was +too much truth in her boasting, since our hero certainly submitted +himself to Sukey's blandishments and placed himself under the fatal +spell of her dimples with an increasing frequency which was to be +lamented. Especially was it lamented by Billy Little. Sukey was so +perfect a little specimen of the human animal, and her heart was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> so +prone to tenderness, that she became, upon intimate acquaintance, the +incarnation of that condition into which the right sort of people pray +kind Providence to lead them not. The neighborhood gossips and prophets +freely predicted that Rita would marry Williams, in which case it was +surmised Miss Yates would carry her dimples into the Bright family. This +theory Sukey encouraged by arch glances and shy denials.</p> + +<p>Tom had become a great dandy, and considered himself one of the +commercial features of the Indiana metropolis. He would have his old +home friends, including Sukey, believe that he directed the policy of +Fisher and Fox, and that he was also the real business brain in the +office of Roger Williams, where he occupied the position of confidential +clerk. He was of little real value to Williams, save in the matter of +wooing Tom's sister. Tom knew that he held his clerkship only by the +tenure of Rita's smiles, and Williams, by employing him, gained an ally +not at all to be despised.</p> + +<p>On a certain Monday morning, after Rita had the day previous shown +marked preference to Dic, Williams said:—</p> + +<p>"Tom, father orders me to cut down expenses, and I fear I shall be +compelled to begin with your salary. I regret the necessity, but the +governor's orders are imperative. We will let it stand as it is for this +month and will see what can be done afterward."</p> + +<p>This gentle hint was not lost on Thomas. He went home that day to +dinner, and Rita felt the heavy hand of her brother's displeasure.</p> + +<p>"You are the most selfish, ungrateful girl living," said Tom, who +honestly thought his fair sister had injured him. Tom's sense of truth, +like his mother's, ran parallel to his wishes.</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Rita, wonderingly. Had the earth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> slipped from its axis, +Tom and his mother would have placed the blame on Rita.</p> + +<p>"Why?" repeated Tom. "Because you know I have a good position with +Williams. He pays me a better salary than any one else would give me; +yet you almost insulted him yesterday and went off for a walk with that +country jake."</p> + +<p>"Isn't Dic your friend?" asked Rita.</p> + +<p>"No, of course he ain't," replied Tom. "Do you think I'd take him out +calling, with such clothes as he wears, to see any of the girls?"</p> + +<p>"I hope not," answered Rita, struggling with a smile.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," insisted Tom, "and if I lose my place because you mistreat +Williams on Dic's account, he shan't come into this house. Do you +understand? If he does, I'll kick him out."</p> + +<p>"You kick Dic!" returned Rita, laughing. "You would be afraid to say +'boo' to him. Tom, I should be sorry to see you after you had tried to +kick Dic."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you now, Sis," said Tom, threateningly, "you treat +Williams right. If you don't, your big, jakey friend will suffer."</p> + +<p>"It is on Dic's capital that father is making so much money," responded +Rita. "Had it not been for him we would still be on Blue. I certainly +wish we were back there."</p> + +<p>"Your father will soon pay Dic his money," said Mrs. Bays, solemnly, +"and then we will be free to act as we wish."</p> + +<p>"The debt to Dic is no great thing," said Tom. "The firm owes Williams +nearly four times that amount, and he isn't a man who will stand much +foolishness. Father is not making so much money, either, as you think +for, and the first thing you know, with your smartness, you will ruin +him and me both, if you keep on making a fool of yourself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> But that +wouldn't hurt you. You don't think of nobody but yourself."</p> + +<p>"That has always been Rita's chief fault," remarked the Chief Justice, +sitting in solemn judgment upon a case that was not before her. Poor +Rita was beginning to feel that she was a monster of selfishness. Her +father came feebly to her defence.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe the girl lives," said Thomas, Sr., "who is less selfish +than Rita. But Fisher and I do owe Williams a great deal of money, and +are not making as much as we did at first. The crops failed last summer, +and collections are hard. Williams has been pressing for money, and I +hope all the family will treat him well, for he is the kind of man who +might take out his spite upon me, for the sake of getting even with +somebody else."</p> + +<p>Rita's heart sank. Her father, though a weak vassal, had long been her +only ally.</p> + +<p>Had Williams not been a suitor for her hand, Rita would have found him +agreeable; and if her heart had been free, he might have won it. So long +as he maintained the attitude of friend and did not conflict with Dic's +claims, he was well received; but when he became a lover—a condition +difficult to refrain from—she almost hated and greatly feared him. +Despite her wretchedness, she accepted his visits and invitations for +her father's sake, and at times felt that she was under the spell of a +cruel wizard from Boston. With all these conditions, the battle of Dic's +wooing, though he held the citadel,—Rita's heart,—was by no means an +even fight. There were other causes operating that might eventually rout +him, even from that citadel.</p> + +<p>One evening, while sitting before Billy Little's fire, Dic's campaign +was discussed in detail. The young man said:—</p> + +<p>"Rita and I are to be married soon after I return from New York. If her +mother consents, well and good; if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> she refuses, we will bear up +manfully under her displeasure and ignore it. I have often thought of +your remark about Mrs. Bays as a mother-in-law."</p> + +<p>"She certainly would be ideal," responded Billy. "But I hope you will +get the girl. She's worth all the trouble the old lady can make."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say 'hope'?" asked Dic. "I'm sure of getting her. Why, Billy +Little, if I were to lose that girl, I believe I should go mad."</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't," returned his friend. "You would console yourself +with the dimpler."</p> + +<p>"Why, Billy Little, you are crazy—excuse me—but you don't understand," +expostulated Dic. "For me, all that is worth possessing in the whole big +universe is concentrated in one small bit of humanity. Her little body +encompasses it all. Sukey Yates could be nothing to me, even though I +cared nothing for Rita. She has too many other friends, as she calls +them, and probably is equally generous to all."</p> + +<p>"If you care for Rita, you should remain away from Sukey," remarked +Billy. "She may be comprehensive in her affections, and she may have +been—to state it mildly—overtender at times; but when a girl of her +ardent temperament falls in love, she becomes dangerous, because she is +really very attractive to the eye."</p> + +<p>"I don't go there often, and I'll take your advice and remain away. I +have feared the danger you speak of, but—"</p> + +<p>"Speak out, Dic; you may trust me," said Billy. Dic continued:—</p> + +<p>"I don't like to speak of a girl as I was going to speak of Sukey, but +I'll explain. I have, of course, been unable to explain to Rita, and I'm +a selfish brute to go to Sukey's at all. Rita has never complained, but +there is always a troubled look in her eyes when she jestingly speaks +of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> Sukey as my 'other girl.' Well, it's this way: Sukey often comes to +see mother, who prefers her to Rita, and if she comes in the evening, of +course I take her home. I believe I have not deliberately gone over to +see her three times in all my life. Sometimes I ride home from church +with her and spend part of the evening. Sukey is wonderfully pretty, and +her health is so good that at times she looks like a little nymph. She +is, in a way, entertaining too. As you say, she appeals to the eye, and +when she grows affectionate, her purring and her dimples make a +formidable array not at all to be despised. You are right. She is the +same to a score of men, and I could not fall in love with her were she +the only girl on earth. I should be kicked for speaking so of her or of +any girl, but you know I would not speak so freely to any one but you. +Speaking to you seems almost like thinking."</p> + +<p>"If it makes you think, I shall be glad you spoke," answered Billy.</p> + +<p>"No more Sukey for me," said Dic. "I'll have nothing more to do with +her. I want to be decent and worthy of Rita. I want to be true to her, +and Sukey is apt to lead me in the other direction, without even the +excuse on my part of caring for her. An honest man will not deliberately +lead himself into temptation."</p> + +<p>Upon the Sunday previous to Dic's intended departure for New York he +visited Rita. He had made this New York trip once before, and had +returned safely, therefore its terrors for Rita were greatly reduced. +Her regret on account of the second expedition was solely because she +would be separated from Dic for three or four months, and that +bitterness was sweetened by the thought that she would have him always +after his return.</p> + +<p>"How shall I act while you are away?" she asked. "Shall I continue to +receive Mr. Williams, or shall I refuse to see him? You must decide for +me, and I'll act as you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> wish. You know how unhappy mother will be if I +refuse to see him and—and, you know she will be very severe with me. I +would not care so much for that, although her harshness hurts me +terribly. But mother's in bad health—her heart is troubling her a great +deal of late—and I can't bear to cause her pain. On the other hand, it +tortures me when that man comes near me, and it must pain you when I +receive him kindly. I can't bear to pain you and—and at times I fear if +I permit his attention you will—will doubt me. That would kill me, Dic; +I really believe it would."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry on that score," replied Dic, placing his hand on her heart, +"there is nothing but truth here."</p> + +<p>"I hope not, Dic," she replied. She could not boast even of her +fidelity. There might be many sorts of evil in that heart, for all she +knew.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, there is not," said Dic, tenderly. "If by any chance we should +ever be separated,—if we should ever lose each other,—it will not be +because of your bad faith."</p> + +<p>"But, Dic," cried Rita, "that terrible 'if.' It is the first time you +ever used the word with reference to us."</p> + +<p>"It means nothing, Rita," answered Dic, reassuringly. "There can be no +'if' between you and me. As for Williams, you must receive him and treat +him kindly. Tom is his clerk, and I should hate to see Tom lose his +position. Tom is a mighty good fellow. You say your father owes Williams +a large debt. He might, if he chose, act ugly. Therefore, you must act +prettily. Poor Williams! I'm sorry for him. We will give them all the +slip when I return."</p> + +<p>The slip came in an unexpected manner, and Dic did not go to New York.</p> + +<p>Rita's continued aversion to Williams, instead of cool<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>ing that young +man's ardor, fired it to a degree previously unknown in the cool-blooded +Williams family. He had visited his cultured home for the purpose of +dilating upon the many charms of body, soul, and mind possessed by this +fair girl of the wilderness. His parents, knowing him to be a young man +of sound Mayflower judgment and worthy to be trusted for making a good, +sensible bargain in all matters of business, including matrimony, +readily gave their consent, and offered him his father's place at the +head of the agricultural firm, in case he should marry. They were wise +enough to know that a young man well married is a young man well made; +and they had no doubt, judging from Roger's description, that Rita was +the girl of girls.</p> + +<p>Williams did not tell his parents that up to that time his wooing had +been in vain, and they, with good reason, did not conceive it possible +that any girl in her right mind would refuse their son. Roger was +willing, Roger's parents were willing, Rita's parents were eager for the +match; every person and everything needful were on his side, save one +small girl. Roger thought that trifling obstacle would soon yield to the +pressure of circumstances, the persuasion of conditions, and the charm +of his own personality. He and the conditions had been warring upon the +small obstacle for many months, and still it was as small as ever—but +no smaller. The non-aggressive, feather-bed stubbornness of +insignificant obstacles is often very irritating to an enterprising +soul.</p> + +<p>Williams was a fine, intellectual fellow, and his knowledge of human +nature had enabled him to estimate—at least to approximate—the +inestimable value of the girl he so ardently desired. Her rare beauty +would, he thought, grace a palace; while her manifold virtues and good +common-sense would accomplish a much greater task, and grace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> a home. +Added to these reasons of state was a passionate love on the part of +Williams of which any woman might have been proud. Williams was, +ordinarily, sure-footed, and would have made fewer mistakes in his +wooing had his love been less feverish. He also had a great fund of +common-sense, but love is inimical to that rare commodity, and under the +blind god's distorting influence the levelest head will, in time, become +conical. So it happened that, after many months of cautious +manœuvring, Williams began to make mistakes.</p> + +<p>For the sake of her parents and Tom, Rita had treated Williams with +quiet civility, and when she learned that she could do so without +precipitating a too great civility on his part, she gathered confidence +and received him with undisguised cordiality. Roger, in his eagerness, +took undue hope. Believing that the obstacle had become very small, he +determined, upon occasion, to remove it entirely, by one bold stroke. +Rita's kindness and Roger's growing hope and final determination to try +the issue of one pivotal battle, all came into being during the period +when Dic had reduced his visits to one month. The final charge by the +Boston 'vincibles was made on the evening following Dic's visit +last-mentioned.</p> + +<p>An ominous quiet had reigned in the Williams camp for several months, +and the beleaguered city, believing that hostilities had ceased, was +lulled into a state of unwatchfulness, which, in turn, had given great +hope to the waiting cohorts.</p> + +<p>Upon the Monday evening referred to, the girl commanding the beleaguered +forces received the enemy, whom she wished might be her friend, into her +outworks, the front parlor. Little dreaming that a perfidious Greek was +entering her Trojan gates, she laughed and talked charmingly, hoping, if +possible, to smooth the road for her father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> and Tom by the help of her +all-powerful smiles. Poor and weak she considered those smiles to be; +but the Greek thought them wondrous, and coveted them as no Greek ever +coveted Troy. Feeling that Williams sought only her friendship, and +being more than willing to give him that, she was her natural self, and +was more winsome and charming than she had ever before appeared to him. +Her graciousness, which he should have been wise enough to understand +but did not, her winsomeness and beauty, which he should have been +strong enough to withstand but was not, and his love, which he tried to +resist but could not, induced him upon that evening to make an attack.</p> + +<p>Many little items of local interest had been discussed, foreign affairs +were touched upon, books, music, and the blessed weather had each been +duly considered, and short periods of silence had begun to occur, +together with an occasional smothered yawn from Rita. Williams, with the +original purpose of keeping the conversation going and with no intent to +boast, said:—</p> + +<p>"My father has purchased a new home in Boston beyond the Common, over on +the avenue, and has offered to give me his old house. He has determined +to retire from the firm and I am to take his place. I shall start for +Boston Christmas Day"—here his self-control forsook him—"and, Rita, if +you will go with me, I shall be the happiest man on earth."</p> + +<p>The girl remained silent, feeling that he knew her mind on the subject, +and hoping he would proceed no farther. Hope, spurred by desire, is +easily awakened, and Williams, misunderstanding her silence, +continued:—</p> + +<p>"I do not mean to boast, but I cannot help telling you that your home in +Boston, if you will go with me, will be one of the most beautiful in the +city. All that wealth can buy you shall have, and all that love and +devotion can bring you shall possess. Other girls would jump at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +chance—" (poor conical head—this to this girl) "but I want you, +Rita—want you of all the world."</p> + +<p>Rita rose to her feet, surprised and alarmed by this Grecian trick, and +Williams, stepping quickly to her side, grasped her hand. He had lost +his wonted self-control and was swept forward by the flood of his +long-pent-up emotions.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Williams, I beg you will not—" cried Rita, endeavoring to withdraw +her hand.</p> + +<p>"You shall listen to me," he cried, half in anger, half pleadingly. "I +have loved you as tenderly and unselfishly as woman ever was loved, +since I first knew you. I know I am not worthy of you, but I am the +equal of any other man, and you shall treat me fairly."</p> + +<p>The girl, in alarm, struggled to free herself from his grasp, but he +held her and continued:—</p> + +<p>"No other man can give you the love I feel for you, and you shall +respond to it."</p> + +<p>"It is impossible, Mr. Williams," she said pleadingly. "You do not know +all. I am sorry, so sorry, to give you pain." Her ever ready tears began +to flow. "But I do not feel toward you as you wish. I—there is another. +He is—has been very near to me since I was a child, and I have promised +to be his wife this long time."</p> + +<p>Her words were almost maddening to Williams, and he retorted as if he +were, in truth, mad.</p> + +<p>"That country fellow? You shall never marry him! I swear it! He is a +poor, supercilious fool and doesn't know it! He has nothing in this +world, and has never seen anything beyond the limits of his father's +farm."</p> + +<p>"He has been to New York," interrupted Rita, in all seriousness.</p> + +<p>Williams laughed. "I tell you he is a boor. He is a—"</p> + +<p>"He is to be my husband, Mr. Williams, and I hope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> you will not speak +ill of him," said Rita, with cold dignity.</p> + +<p>"He is not to be your husband," cried Williams, angrily. "You shall be +mine—mine; do you hear? Mine! I will have you, if I must—" he caught +the girl in his arms, and pressing her head back upon the bend of his +elbow, kissed her lips to his heart's content and to his own everlasting +undoing. When he released her she started from the room, but he, +grasping her arm, detained her, saying:—</p> + +<p>"Rita, I beg your pardon. I lost my head. I am sorry. Forgive me."</p> + +<p>"There can be no forgiveness for you," she said, speaking slowly, "and I +wish you to let me leave the room."</p> + +<p>"Rita, forgive me," he pleaded. "I tell you I was insane when I—I did +that. You have almost driven me mad. You can surely forgive me when you +know that my act was prompted by my love. Your heart is ready with +forgiveness and love for every one but me, and I, more than all others, +love you. I beg you to forgive me, and if I cannot have your love, +forget what I have done this night and again be my friend."</p> + +<p>After a long, painful pause, she spoke deliberately: "I would not marry +you, Mr. Williams, if you were a king, or if I should die by reason of +refusing you. I cannot now be even your friend. I shall tell my father +and brother what you have done, and they will order you out of this +house. I will tell Dic, and he will kill you!" Her eyes, usually so +gentle, were hard and cold, as she continued: "There is the door. I hope +you will never darken it again."</p> + +<p>She again started to leave the room, and he again detained her. He knew +that disgrace would follow exposure, and, being determined to silence +her at any cost, said angrily:—</p> + +<p>"If you tell your father, I will take from him his store, his home, his +farm. He owes me more than all combined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> are worth. If you will not +listen to me through love, you shall do so from fear. I am sorry, very +sorry, for what happened. I know the consequences if you speak of it. No +one can be made to understand exactly how it happened, and I will +protect myself; of that you may be sure. If you speak of what I did, +driven to it by my love for you, I say I will turn your father and +mother into the street. They will be penniless in their old age. Your +brother Tom is a thief. He has been stealing from me ever since he came +to my office. Only last night I laid a trap for him and caught him in +the act of stealing fifty dollars. He took the money and lost it at +Welch's gambling saloon. He has taken, in all, nearly a thousand +dollars. I have submitted to his thefts on your account. I have extended +your father's notes because he is your father. But if you tell any one +that I—I kissed you to-night, or if you repeat what I have told +concerning your father and brother, your parents go to the street, and +Tom to the penitentiary. Now, do you understand me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Will you remain silent?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Then he took his hat, saying, "I have been beside myself to-night, but +it was through love for you, and you will forgive me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And I may come again?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And we will forget all that has happened this evening and you will be +my friend?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"If you will forgive me," he continued, recovering his senses, "and will +allow me the sweet privilege of your friendship, I promise never again +to speak of my love until you have given me permission. Shall it be a +compact?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," murmured the girl.</p> + +<p>"Will you give me your hand?" he asked. She offered the hand, and he +clasping it, said:—</p> + +<p>"You have much to forgive, but your heart is full of gentleness, and you +have promised."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have promised," she returned huskily.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Rita."</p> + +<p>"Good night."</p> + +<p>The girl hurried to her room, and, almost unconscious of what she was +doing, dressed for the night. During the first few minutes after she had +extinguished the candle and had crept into bed, she could not think +coherently, but soon consciousness came in an ingulfing flood. +Williams's kisses seemed to stick to her. She rubbed her lips till they +were raw, but still the clinging pollution seemed to penetrate to her +soul. Her first coherent thought, of course, was of Dic. No man but he +had ever, till that night, touched her lips, and with him a kiss was a +sacrament. Now he would scorn her. The field of her disaster seemed to +broaden, as she thought of it, and with the chastity of her lips she +felt that she had lost everything worth having in life. Abandoning her +pillow, she covered her head with the counterpane, and drawing her knees +to her breast, lay trembling and sobbing. Dic was lost to her. There +seemed to be no other possible outcome to the present situation. She +feared Williams as never before, and felt that she was in his clutches +beyond escape. The situation seemed hopeless beyond even the reach of +prayer, her usual refuge, and she did not pray. She knew of her father's +debt to Williams, and had always feared that Tom was not to be trusted. +She was convinced without evidence other than Williams's words that he +had told the truth, and she knew that ruin and disgrace for her father +and Tom waited upon a nod from the man whom she hated, and that the nod +waited upon her frown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>The next morning Rita's face lacked much of its wonted beauty. Her eyes +were red and dim, the cheeks were pale and dim, her lips were blue and +dim, and all the world, seen by her eyes, was dark and dim. The first +thing that must be done, of course, was to tell Dic of the ravaged kiss. +She had no more desire to conceal that terrible fact from him than a +wounded man has to deceive the surgeon. He must be told without delay, +even should he at once spurn her forever.</p> + +<p>She feared Williams, bearing in mind his threat, and determined first to +pledge Dic to secrecy, and then to tell him of her disgrace. She wrote +to him, begging him to come to her at once; and he lost no time in +going.</p> + +<p>He arrived at the Bays house an hour past noon, and Rita soon had him to +herself in the front parlor. When they entered the room and were alone +he took her hand; but she withdrew it, saying:—</p> + +<p>"No, no; wait till you hear what has happened."</p> + +<p>He readily saw that something terrible had transpired. "What is it, +Rita? Tell me quickly."</p> + +<p>"I can't, Dic, till I have your solemn promise that you will never +repeat what I am about to tell you."</p> + +<p>"But, Rita—" he began, in expostulation.</p> + +<p>"No—no, you must promise. You must swear—if you will hear."</p> + +<p>"I promise. I swear if you wish. What can it be?"</p> + +<p>Then she drew him to a settee, and with downcast eyes began her piteous +story.</p> + +<p>"Monday evening Mr. Williams came to call upon me. You know you said I +must receive him kindly. I did so. And he again asked me to—to—you +know—to marry him. When I told him it was impossible, he grew angry; +and when I became frightened and tried to leave the room, he caught me +by the hand and would not let me go. Then he told me again how +desperately he cared for me; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> when I answered angrily and tried to +escape, he held me and—and—oh, Dic, I can't tell you. I thought I +could, but I can't. I—I loathe myself." She bent her head forward, and +covering her face with her hands, sobbed convulsively.</p> + +<p>"Go on, Rita. My God! you must tell me," demanded Dic.</p> + +<p>"I know I must," she replied between sobs. "Oh, Dic, do not hate me. He +held me to him as you sometimes do,—but, oh, it was so different. I was +helpless, and he bent back my head and kissed me on the lips till I +thought I should faint."</p> + +<p>"The cowardly hound. He shall pay dearly for his—"</p> + +<p>"I have your promise, your oath," said the girl, interrupting him.</p> + +<p>"But, Rita—"</p> + +<p>"I trusted you, Dic, and I know you will faithfully keep your promise. +Father owes Williams a large sum of money, and Tom has been stealing +from him." Here she began to weep. "He will ruin father and send Tom to +the penitentiary if he learns that I have told you this. He told me he +would, and I promised I would tell no one; but my duty to you is higher +than my duty to keep my promise. Now you know why I held you off when we +came in here."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know," he replied. "You have not promised to marry him?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," she returned excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Then why did you refuse me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not worthy to be your wife. I feel that I have been contaminated," +she answered.</p> + +<p>"No, no, girl," he cried joyfully. "It was not your fault. The falling +snow is not purer than you, and truth itself is not truer than your +heart. I go to New York soon, and when I return all your troubles will +cease."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They have ceased already, Dic," she murmured, placing her head upon his +breast, while tears fell unheeded over her cheeks. "I thought an hour +ago I should never again be happy, but I am happy already. Dic, you are +a wonderful man to produce such a change in so short a time."</p> + +<p>"I am wonderful only in what you give me," he answered.</p> + +<p>"How beautifully you speak," she whispered; but the remainder of that +interview is not at all necessary to this story.</p> + +<p>Dic left Rita late in the afternoon and met Williams on the street down +town. They could not easily pass each other without exchanging words, so +they stopped and spoke stiffly about the weather, past, present, and +future. Dic tried to conceal all traces of resentment, and partially +succeeded. Williams, still smarting from his troubles and mistakes with +Rita, and hating Dic accordingly, concealed his feelings with poor +success. The hatred of these men for each other was plain in every word +and act, and in a few moments, Williams, unable longer to bear the +strain, said:—</p> + +<p>"This sham between us is disgusting. Let us settle our differences as +gentlemen adjust such affairs."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that we shall fight it out?" asked Dic.</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Williams. "You are not afraid to fight, are you?"</p> + +<p>"No, and yes," answered Dic. "I have had but few fights—I fear I could +not go into a fight in cold blood and—and for many reasons I do not +wish to fight you."</p> + +<p>"I supposed you would decline. I knew you to be a coward," sneered +Williams, growing brave upon seeing Dic's disinclination.</p> + +<p>"No," responded Dic, calmly looking into Williams's face, "I have +nothing to fear from you. You could not stand against me even for one +minute."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But you misunderstand me," said Williams. "I do not wish to fight with +my fists. That is the method of ruffians and country bullies. I am not +surprised at your mistake."</p> + +<p>Dic laughed softly and replied: "I do not know why your words don't +anger me. Perhaps because I pity you. I can afford to be magnanimous and +submit to your ravings; therefore, I am neither angry nor afraid."</p> + +<p>"I propose to settle our difficulty as gentlemen adjust such affairs," +said Williams. "Of course, you know nothing about the methods of +gentlemen. I challenge you to meet me in a duel. Now do you +understand—understand?"</p> + +<p>Williams was nervous, and there was a murderous gleam in his eyes. Dic's +heart throbbed faster for a moment, but soon took again its regular +beat. He rapidly thought over the situation and said:—</p> + +<p>"I don't want to kill you and don't want you to kill me." He paused for +a moment with a smile on his lips and continued: "Suppose we let the +girl decide this between us. But perhaps I am again showing my ignorance +of gentlemanly methods. Do gentlemen force their attentions upon +unwilling ladies?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you refuse," retorted Williams, ignoring his question, "I can +slap your face now in the public streets."</p> + +<p>"Don't do it, Williams," responded Dic, looking to the ground and trying +to remain calm.</p> + +<p>"Why?" Williams asked.</p> + +<p>"Because—I will fight you if you insist, without the occasion of a +street brawl. Another name might be brought into that."</p> + +<p>"Am I to understand that you accept my challenge?" asked Williams.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you insist," replied Dic, calmly, as if he were accepting an +invitation to dinner. "I have always supposed that this sort of an +affair should be arranged between gen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>tlemen by their friends; but of +course I don't know how gentlemen act under these circumstances. Perhaps +you don't consider me a gentleman, and you certainly must have some +doubts in your mind concerning yourself; therefore, it may be proper for +us to arrange this little matter with each other."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you would prefer seconds," returned Williams. "They might +prevent a meeting."</p> + +<p>After a few moments of silence Dic said, "If we fight, I fear another +person's name will be dragged into our quarrel."</p> + +<p>"You may, if you wish, find plenty of excuses," returned Roger. "If you +wish to accept my challenge, do so. If not, say so, and I will take my +own course."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll accept," returned Dic, cheerily. "As the challenged party, if +we were gentlemen, I believe I might choose the weapons."</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded Williams.</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose would be the result were I to choose rifles at two +hundred yards?" asked Dic, with an ugly smile on his face.</p> + +<p>"I should be delighted," responded the other. "I expected you to choose +hoes or pitchforks."</p> + +<p>"I think it fair to tell you," said Dic, "that I can hit a silver dollar +four times out of five shots at two hundred yards, and you will probably +do well to hit a barn door once out of ten at that distance. I will let +you see me shoot before I definitely choose weapons. Afterwards, if you +prefer some other, I will abide your choice."</p> + +<p>"I am satisfied with your choice," responded Williams, who prided +himself upon his rifle-shooting, in which accomplishment Dic had +underrated his antagonist.</p> + +<p>"We must adopt some plan to prevent people from connecting another +person with this affair," suggested Dic. "If you will come down to +Bays's farm for a day's hunting,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> I will meet you there, and the result +may be attributed by the survivor to a hunting accident."</p> + +<p>"The plan suits me," said Williams. "I'll meet you there to-morrow at +noon. I'll tell Tom I have an engagement to go squirrel-hunting with +you."</p> + +<p>Dic rode home, and of course carried the news of his forthcoming duel to +Billy Little.</p> + +<p>"There are worse institutions in this world than the duel," remarked +Billy, much to his listener's surprise. "It helps to thin out the +fools."</p> + +<p>"But, Billy Little, I must fight him," responded Dic. "He insists, and +will not accept my refusal. He says I am afraid to fight him."</p> + +<p>"If he should say you were a blackamoor, I suppose you would be black," +retorted Billy. "Is that the way of it?"</p> + +<p>"But I am glad he does not give me an opportunity to refuse," said Dic.</p> + +<p>"I supposed as much," answered Billy. "You will doubtless be delighted +if he happens to put a bullet through you, and will surely be happy for +life if you kill him."</p> + +<p>"It is his doing, Billy Little," said Dic, with an ugly gleam in his +eyes, "and I would not balk him. Billy Little, I would fight that man if +I knew I should hang for it the next day. I'll tell you—he grossly +insulted Rita Monday evening. He held her by force and kissed her lips +till she was hardly conscious."</p> + +<p>"Good God!" cried Billy, springing to his feet and trembling with +excitement. "Fight him, Dic! Kill him, Dic! Kill the brute! If you +don't, by the good God, I will."</p> + +<p>"You need not urge me, Billy Little. I'm quite willing enough. Still I +hope I shall not kill him."</p> + +<p>"You hope you will not kill him?" demanded Billy. "If you do not, I +will. Where do you meet?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He will be at Bays's house to-morrow noon, and we will go up to my +cleared eighty, half a mile north. There we will step off a course of +two hundred yards and fire. Whatever happens we will say was the result +of a hunting accident."</p> + +<p>Billy determined to be in hiding near the field of battle, and was +secreted in the forest adjoining the cleared eighty an hour before noon +next day. Late in the morning Dic took his rifle and walked down to the +Bays's house. I shall not try to describe his sensations.</p> + +<p>Williams was waiting, and Dic found him carefully examining his gun. The +gun contained a bullet which, Dic thought, with small satisfaction, +might within a short time end his worldly troubles, and the troubles +seemed more endurable than ever before. Sleep had cooled his brain since +his conversation with Billy, and he could not work himself into a +murderous state of mind. He possessed Rita, and love made him +magnanimous. He did not want to fight, though fear was no part of his +reluctance. The manner of his antagonist soon left no doubt in Dic's +mind that the battle was sure to come off. Something in +Williams—perhaps it was his failure to meet his enemy's eyes—alarmed +Dic's suspicions, and for a moment he feared treachery at the hands of +his morose foe; but he dismissed the thought as unworthy, and opening +the gate started up the river path, taking the lead. He was ashamed to +show his distrust of Williams, though he could not entirely throw it +off, and the temptation to turn his head now and then to watch his +following enemy was irresistible. They had been walking but a few +minutes when Dic, prompted by distrust, suddenly turned his head and +looked into the barrel of a gun held firmly to the shoulder of our +gentleman from Boston. With the nimbleness of a cat, Dic sprang to one +side, and a bullet whistled past his face. One second later in turning +his head and the hunting accident would have occurred.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>After the shot Williams in great agitation said:—</p> + +<p>"I saw a squirrel and have missed it."</p> + +<p>"You may walk ahead," answered Dic, with not a nerve ruffled. "You might +see another squirrel."</p> + +<p>Williams began to reload his gun, but Dic interrupted the proceeding.</p> + +<p>"Don't load now. We will soon reach the clearing."</p> + +<p>Williams continued reloading, and was driving the patch down upon the +powder. Dic cocked his rifle, and raising it halfway to his shoulder, +said:—</p> + +<p>"Don't put the bullet in unless you wish me to see a squirrel. I'll not +miss. Throw me your bullet pouch."</p> + +<p>Williams, whose face looked like a mask of death, threw the bullet pouch +to Dic, and, in obedience to a gesture, walked forward on the path. +After taking a few steps he looked backward to observe the man he had +tried to murder.</p> + +<p>"You need not watch me," Dic said; "I'm not hunting squirrels."</p> + +<p>Soon they reached the open field. Dic had cleared every foot of the +ground, and loved it because he had won it single-handed in a battle +royal with nature; but nature was a royal foe that, when conquered, gave +royal spoils of victory. The rich bottom soil had year by year repaid +Dic many-fold for his labor. He loved the land, and if fate should prove +unkind to him, he would choose that spot of all others upon which to +fall.</p> + +<p>"Is this the place?" asked Williams.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Dic, tossing the bullet pouch. "Now you may load."</p> + +<p>When Williams had finished loading, Dic said: "I will drop my hat here. +We will walk from each other, you going west, I going east. The sun is +in the south. When we have each taken one hundred steps, we will call +'Ready,' turn, and fire when we choose."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>Accordingly, Dic dropped his hat, and the two men started, one toward +the east, one toward the west, while the sun was shining in the south. +Williams quickly ran his hundred steps.</p> + +<p>Dic had counted forty steps when he heard the cry "Dic" coming from the +forest ten yards to the south, and simultaneously the sharp crack of a +rifle behind him. At the same instant his left leg gave way under him +and he fell to the ground, supposing he had stepped into a muskrat hole. +After he had fallen he turned quickly toward Williams and saw that +gentleman hastily reloading his gun. Then he fully realized that his +antagonist had shot him, though he was unable to account for the voice +he had heard from the forest. That mystery, too, was quickly explained +when he heard Billy's dearly loved voice calling to Williams:—</p> + +<p>"Drop that gun, or you die within a second."</p> + +<p>Turning to the left Dic saw his friend holding the rifle which had +fallen from his own hands when he went down, and the little fellow +looked the picture of determined ferocity. Williams dropped his gun. Dic +was sitting upright where he had fallen, and Billy, handing him the +weapon, said:—</p> + +<p>"Kill him, Dic; kill him as you would a wolf. I'm afraid if I shoot I'll +miss him, and then he will reload and kill you."</p> + +<p>Williams was a hundred and forty yards away, but Dic could easily have +pierced his heart. He took the gun and lifted it to his shoulder. +Williams stood motionless as a tree upon a calm day. Dic lowered his +gun, but after a pause lifted it again and covered Williams's heart. He +held the gun to his shoulder for a second or two, then he threw it to +the ground, saying:—</p> + +<p>"I can't kill him. Tell him to go, Billy Little. Tell him to go before I +kill him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 414px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/fig_005.png" width="414" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'Kill Him, Dic; Kill Him As You Would A Wolf.'"</span> +</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p>Williams took up his gun from the ground and started to leave, when Dic +said to Billy Little:—</p> + +<p>"Tell him to leave his bullets."</p> + +<p>Williams dropped the bullet pouch without a command from Billy, and +again started to leave. Dic tried to rise to his feet, but failed.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'm wounded," he said hoarsely. "My God, Billy Little, look at +the blood I've lost! I—I feel weak—and—and dizzy. I believe I'm going +to faint," and he accordingly did so. Billy cut away the trousers from +Dic's wounded leg, disclosing a small round hole in the thigh. The blood +was issuing in ugly spurts, and at once Billy knew an artery had been +wounded. He tore the trousers leg into shreds and made a tourniquet +which he tied firmly above the wound and soon the hæmorrhage was greatly +reduced. By the time the tourniquet was adjusted, Williams was well down +towards the river, and Billy called to him:—</p> + +<p>"Go up the river to the first house and tell Mrs. Bright to send the man +down with the wagon. Perhaps if you assist us, the theory of the +accident will be more plausible."</p> + +<p>Williams did as directed. Dic was taken home. Within an hour Kennedy, +summoned by an unwilling messenger, was by the wounded man's side. Billy +Little was watching with Dic's mother, anxious to hear the doctor's +verdict. There was still another anxious watcher, our pink and white +little nymph, Sukey, though the pink had, for the time, given way to the +white. She made no effort to conceal her grief, and was willing that all +who looked might see her love for the man who was lying on the bed +unconscious.</p> + +<p>Williams remained with Bays's tenant till next day, and then returned to +Indianapolis, carrying the news of the "accident."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE LOVE POWDER</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Love Powder</span></h4> + + +<p>Rita was with her mother when she received the terrible news. Of course +the accident was the theme of conversation, and Rita was in deep +trouble. Even Mrs. Bays was moved by the calamity that had befallen the +man whose face, since his early boyhood, had been familiar in her own +house. At first Rita made no effort to express her grief.</p> + +<p>"It is too bad, too bad," was the extent of Mrs. Bays's comment. Taking +courage from even so meagre an expression of sympathy, Rita begged that +she might go home—she still called the banks of Blue her home—and help +Mrs. Bright nurse Dic. Mrs. Bays gazing sternly at the malefactor, +uttered the one word "No," and Rita's small spark of hope was +extinguished almost before it had been kindled.</p> + +<p>Within a few days Billy Little went to see Rita, and relieved her of +anxiety concerning Dic. Before he left he told her that Sukey was +staying with Mrs. Bright and assisting in the nursing and the work.</p> + +<p>"I have been staying there at night," said Billy, "and Sukey hangs about +the bed at all hours."</p> + +<p>Billy did not wish to cause jealousy in Rita's breast, but hoped to +induce her to expostulate gently with Dic about the attentions he +permitted himself to receive from the dimpler. For a minute or two his +words caused a feeling of troubled jealousy in Rita's heart, but she +soon dismissed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> it as unworthy of her, and unjust to Dic and Sukey. To +that young lady she wrote: "I am not permitted to nurse him, and I thank +you for taking my place. I shall remember your goodness so long as I +live."</p> + +<p>The letter should have aroused in Sukey's breast high impulses and pure +motives; but it brought from her red lips, amid their nest of dimples, +the contemptuous expletive "Fool," and I am not sure that she was +entirely wrong. A due respect for the attractiveness and willingness of +her sisters is wise in a woman. Rita's lack of wisdom may be excused +because of the fact that her trust in Sukey was really a part of her +faith in Dic.</p> + +<p>Thus it came to pass that Dic did not go to New York, but was confined +to his home for several months with a fractured thigh bone. During that +period Rita was in constant prayer and Sukey in daily attendance. The +dimpler's never ceasing helpfulness to Dic and his mother won his +gratitude, while the dangerous twinkling of the dimples and the pretty +sheen of her skin became familiar to him as household gods. He had never +respected the girl, nor was his respect materially augmented by her +kindness, which at times overleaped itself; but his gratitude increased +his affection, and his sentiment changed from one of almost repugnance +to a kindly feeling of admiration for her seductive beauty, regard for +her kindly heart, and pleasure in her never failing good temper.</p> + +<p>Sukey still clung to her dominion over several hearts, receiving them +upon their allotted evenings; and although she had grown passionately +fond of Dic, she gave a moiety of kindness to her subjects, each in his +turn. She easily convinced each that he was the favored one, and that +the others were friends and were simply tolerated. She tried no such +coquetry with Dic, but gladly fed upon such crumbs as he might throw +her. If he unduly withheld the crumbs, she, unable to resist her +yearning for the unattain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>able, at times lost all maidenly reserve, and +by eloquent little signs and pleadings sought them at the hand of her +Dives. The heart of a coquette is to be won only by running away from +it, and Dic's victory over Sukey was achieved in retreat.</p> + +<p>During Dic's illness Tom's heart, quickened doubtless by jealousy, had +grown more and more to yearn for Sukey's manifold charms, physical and +temperamental. Billy Little, who did not like Sukey, said her charms +were "dimple-mental"; but Billy's heart was filled with many curious +prejudices, and Tom's judgment was much more to be relied upon in this +case.</p> + +<p>One morning when Sukey entered Dic's room she said: "Tom was to see me +last night. He said he would come up to see you to-day."</p> + +<p>"He meant that he will come up to see you," replied Dic, teasing her. +"One of these times I'll lose another friend to Indianapolis, and when I +go up there with my country ways you won't know me."</p> + +<p>"I'll never go to Indianapolis," Sukey responded, with a demure glance. +"Dear old Blue is good enough for me. The nearer I can live to it, the +better I shall be satisfied." Dic's lands were on the river banks, while +those of Sukey's father were a mile to the east.</p> + +<p>"If you lived too close to the river, you might fall in," returned Dic, +choosing to take Sukey's remark in jest.</p> + +<p>"I'm neither sugar nor salt," she retorted, "and I would not melt. I'm +sure I'm not sugar—"</p> + +<p>"But sugarish," interrupted Dic.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> don't think I'm even sugarish," she returned poutingly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do," he replied; "but you must not tell Tom I said so."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Sukey. "He's nothing to me—simply a friend."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>So the conversation would run, and Sukey, by judicious fishing, caught a +minnow now and then.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>During the latter days of Dic's convalescence, Sukey paid a visit to her +friend Rita, and the girls from Blue attracted the beaux of the capital +city in great numbers. For the first time in Sukey's life she felt that +she had found a battle-field worthy of her prowess, and in truth she +really did great slaughter. Balls, hay rides, autumn picnics, and +nutting parties occurred in rapid succession. Tom and Williams were, of +course, as Tom expressed it, "Johnny on the spot," with our girls.</p> + +<p>After Rita's stormy interview with Williams she had, through fear, +continued to receive him in friendliness. At first the friendliness was +all assumed; but as the weeks passed, and he, by every possible means, +assured her that his rash act was sincerely repented, and under no +conditions was to be repeated, she gradually recovered her faith in him. +Her heart was so prone to forgive that it was an easy task to impose +upon it, and soon Williams, the Greek, was again encamped within the +walls of trusting Troy. He frequently devoted himself to other young +ladies, and our guileless little heroine joyfully reached the conclusion +that she no longer reigned queen of his cultured heart. For this reason +she became genuinely kind to him, and he accordingly gave her much of +his company during the month of Sukey's visit.</p> + +<p>One day a nutting party, including our four friends, set forth on their +way up White River. At the mouth of Fall Creek was a gypsy camp, and the +young folks stopped to have their fortunes told. The camp consisted of a +dozen covered wagons, each containing a bed, a stove, and cooking +utensils. To each wagon belonged a woman who was able and anxious to +foretell the future for the small sum of two bits. Our friends selected +the woman who was oldest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> and ugliest, those qualities having long been +looked upon as attributes of wisdom. Rita, going first, climbed over the +front wheel of the ugliest old woman's covered wagon, and entered the +temple of its high priestess. The front curtain was then drawn. The +interior of the wagon was darkened, and the candle in a small red +lantern was lighted. The hag took a cage from the top of the wagon where +it had been suspended, and when she opened the door a small screech owl +emerged and perched upon the shoulders of its mistress. There it +fluttered its wings and at short intervals gave forth a smothered +screech, allowing the noise to die away in its throat in a series of +disagreeable gurgles. When the owl was seated upon the hag's shoulder, +she took from a box a half-torpid snake, and entwined it about her neck. +With the help of these symbols of wisdom and cunning she at once began +to evoke her familiar spirits. To this end she made weird passes through +the air with her clawlike hands, crying in a whispered, high-pitched +wail the word, "Labbayk, labbayk," an Arabian word meaning "Here am I."</p> + +<p>Rita was soon trembling with fright, and begged the hag to allow her to +leave the wagon.</p> + +<p>"Sit where you are, girl," commanded the gypsy in sepulchral tones. "If +you attempt to pass, the snake will strike you and the owl will tear +you. The spirit of wisdom is in our presence. The Stone God has already +told me your fate. It is worth your while to hear it."</p> + +<p>Rita placed her trembling hand in the hag's claw.</p> + +<p>"No purer woman ever lived than you," began the sorceress; "but if you +marry the dark man who awaits you outside, you will become evil; you +will be untrue to him; you will soon leave him in company with another +man who is light of complexion, tall, and strong. Disgrace and ruin +await your family if you marry the light man. Even the Stone God cannot +foretell a woman's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> course when love draws her in opposite directions. +May the Stone God pity you."</p> + +<p>The hag's ominous words, fitting so marvellously the real situation, +frightened Rita and she cried, "Please let me out," but the gypsy held +her hand, saying:—</p> + +<p>"Sit still, ye fool; sit and listen. For one shilling I will teach you a +spell which you may throw over the man you despise, and he will wither +and die; then you may marry the one of your choice, and all evil shall +be averted."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" screamed the girl, rising to her feet and forcing her way to +the front of the wagon. In passing the witch she stumbled, and in +falling, grasped the snake. The owl screeched, and Rita sprang screaming +from the wagon-seat to the ground.</p> + +<p>Sukey's turn came next, and although Rita begged her not to enter the +gypsy's den, our lady of the dimples climbed over the front wheel, eager +for forbidden fruit.</p> + +<p>The hideous witch, the owl, and the snake for a moment frightened Sukey; +but she, true daughter of Eve, hungered for apples, and was determined +to eat.</p> + +<p>After foretelling numerous journeys, disappointments, and pleasures +which would befall Sukey, the gypsy said:—</p> + +<p>"You have many admirers, but there is one that remains indifferent to +your charms. You may win him, girl, if you wish."</p> + +<p>"How?" cried Sukey, with eagerness.</p> + +<p>"I can give you a love powder by which you may cause him to love you. I +cannot sell it; but a gift for a gift is no barter. If you will give me +gold, I will give you the powder."</p> + +<p>"I have no money with me," answered Sukey; "but I will come to-morrow +and bring you a gold piece."</p> + +<p>"It must be gold," said the hag, feeling sure of her prey. "A gift of +baser metal would kill the charm."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I will bring gold," answered Sukey. Laden with forbidden knowledge and +hope, she sprang from the front wheel into Tom's arms, and was very +happy.</p> + +<p>That night she asked Rita, "Have you a gold dollar?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Rita, hesitatingly, "I have a gold dollar and three +shillings. I'm saving my money until Christmas. I want five dollars to +buy a—" She stopped speaking, not caring to tell that she had for +months been keeping her eyes on a trinket for Dic. "I am not +accumulating very rapidly," she continued laughing, "and am beginning to +fear I shall not be able to save that much by Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Will you loan it to me—the gold dollar?" asked Sukey.</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Rita, somewhat reluctantly, having doubts of Sukey's +intention and ability to repay. But she handed over the gold dollar with +which the borrower hoped to steal the lender's lover.</p> + +<p>Next day Sukey asked Tom to drive her to the gypsy camp, but she did not +explain that her purpose was to buy a love powder with which she hoped +to win another man. Sukey, with all her amiable disposition,—Billy +Little used to say she was as good-natured as a hound pup,—was a girl +who could kiss your lips, gaze innocently into your eyes, and betray you +to Cæsar, all unconscious of her own perfidy. Rita was her friend. Still +she unblushingly borrowed her money, hoping therewith to steal Dic. Tom +was her encouraged lover; still she wished him to help her in obtaining +the love powder by which she might acquire the love of another man. +Sukey was generous; but the world and the people thereof were made for +her use, and she, of course, would use them. She did not know she was +false—but why should I dwell upon poor Sukey's peccadilloes as if she +were the only sinner, or responsible for her sins? Who is responsible +for either sin or virtue?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rita deserved no praise for being true, pure, gentle, and unselfish. +Those qualities were given with her heart. The Chief Justice should not +be censured because she held peculiar theories of equity and looked upon +the words "as we forgive those who trespass against us" as mere +surplusage. She was born with her theories and opinions. Sukey should +not be blamed because of her dimples and her too complacent smiles. For +what purpose were dimples and smiles created save to give pleasure, and +incidentally to cause trouble? But I promise there shall be no more +philosophizing for many pages to come.</p> + +<p>Sukey, by the help of Tom and Rita, purchased her love powder, and, +being eager to administer it, informed Rita that evening that she +intended to return home next morning. Accordingly, she departed, leaving +Rita to receive alone the attentions of her persistent lover.</p> + +<p>Within a week or two after Sukey's return, Dic, having almost recovered, +went to see Rita. He was not able to go a-horseback, so he determined to +take the stage, and Billy Little went with him as body-guard.</p> + +<p>While they waited for the coach in Billy's back room, Williams became +the topic of conversation.</p> + +<p>"He will marry Rita in spite of you," said Billy, "if you don't take her +soon. What do you say? Shall we bring her home with us to-morrow? She +was eighteen last week." Billy was eager to carry off the girl, for he +knew the Williams danger, and stood in dread of it. Dic sprang from his +chair, delighted with the proposition. The thought of possessing Rita +to-morrow carried with it a flood of rapturous emotions.</p> + +<p>"How can we bring her?" he asked. "We can't kidnap her from her mother."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Rita may be induced to kidnap herself," remarked Billy. "If we +furnish the plan, do you believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> Rita will furnish the girl? Will she +come with us?" You see Billy, as well as Dic, was eloping with this +young lady.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she will come when I ask her," returned Dic, with confidence.</p> + +<p>After staring at the young man during a full minute, Billy said: "I am +afraid all my labor upon you has been wasted. If you are so great a fool +as not—do you mean to say you have never asked her to go with you—run +away—elope?"</p> + +<p>"I have never asked her to elope," returned Dic, with an expression of +doubt in his face. Billy's words had aroused him to a knowledge of the +fact that he was not at all the man for this situation.</p> + +<p>"You understand it is this way," continued Dic, in explanation of his +singular neglect. "Rita does not see her mother with our eyes. She +believes her to be a perfect woman. She believes every one is good; but +her mother has, for so many years, sounded the clarion of her own +virtues, that Rita takes the old woman at her own valuation, and holds +her to be a saint in virtue, and a feminine Solomon in wisdom. Rita +believes her mother the acme of intelligent, protecting kindness, and +looks upon her cruelty as the result of parental love, meant entirely +for the daughter's own good. I have not wanted to pain my future wife by +causing a break with her mother. Should Rita run off with me, there +would be no forgiveness for her in the breast of Justice."</p> + +<p>"The girl, doubtless, could live happily without it," answered Billy.</p> + +<p>"Not entirely happy," returned Dic. "She would grieve. You don't know +what a tender heart it is, Billy Little. There is not another like it in +all the world. Had it not been for that consideration, I would have been +selfish enough to bring her home with me when she offered to come, and +would—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mighty Moses!" cried Billy, springing to his feet. "She offered to go +with you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Dic; "she said when last I saw her, 'You should have +taken me long ago.'"</p> + +<p>"And—and you"—Billy paused for breath and danced excitedly about the +room—"and you did not—you—you, oh—Maxwelton's braes—and you—Ah, +well, there is nothing to be gained by talking to you upon that subject. +What <i>do</i> you think of the administration? Jackson is a hickory +blockhead, eh? Congress a stupendous aggregation of asses. Yes, +everybody is an ass, of course; but there is one who is monumental. +Monumental, I say. Monu—ah, well—Maxwelton's braes are +bonny—um—um—um—um—damn!" And Billy sat down disgusted, turning his +face from Dic.</p> + +<p>After a long pause Dic spoke: "I believe you are right, Billy Little. I +should have brought her."</p> + +<p>"Believe—" cried the angry little friend. "Don't you know it? The <i>pons +asinorum</i> is a mere hypothesis compared to the demonstration in this +case."</p> + +<p>"But she was not of age, and could not marry without her parents' +consent," said Dic. "Had I brought her home, we could have found no one +to perform the ceremony."</p> + +<p>"I would have done it quickly enough; I am a justice of the peace. I +could have done it as well as forty preachers. I should have been fined +for transgressing the law in marrying you without a license, but I would +have done it, and it would have been as legal as if it had taken place +in a cathedral. We could have paid the fine between us."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's to be done?" asked Dic, after a long, awkward pause. "It's +not too late."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's too late," answered Billy. "I wash my hands of the whole +affair. When a man can get a girl like Rita, and throws away his chance, +he's beyond hope. I supposed you had bought her for twenty-six hundred +dollars—you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> will never see a penny of it again—and a bargain at the +price. She is worth twenty-six hundred million; but if you could not buy +her, you should have borrowed, stolen, kidnapped—anything to get her. +Now what do you think of yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, Billy Little, not much," answered Dic, regretfully. "But you +should have said all this to me long ago. Advice after the fact is like +meat after a feast—distasteful."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are growing quite epigrammatic," said Billy, snappishly; "but +there is some truth in your contention. We will begin again. When we see +Rita, we will formulate a plan and try to thwart Justice."</p> + +<p>"What plan have you in mind?" asked Dic, eager to discuss the subject.</p> + +<p>"I have none," Billy replied. "Rita will perhaps furnish both the plan +and the girl."</p> + +<p>Dic did not relish the suggestion that Rita would be willing to take so +active a part in the transaction, and said:—</p> + +<p>"I fear you do not know Rita. She is not bold enough to do what you +hope. If she will come with us, it will be all I can expect. We must do +the planning."</p> + +<p>"You say she offered to come with you?" asked Billy.</p> + +<p>"Y-e-s," responded Dic, hesitatingly; "but she is the most timid of +girls, and we shall need to be very persuasive if—"</p> + +<p>Billy laughed and interrupted him: "All theory, Dic; all theory and +wrong. 'Deed, if I knew you were such a fool! The gentlest and most +guileless of women are the bravest and boldest under the stress of a +great motive. The woman who is capable of great love is sure also to +have the capacity for great courage. I know Rita better than you +suppose, and, mark my words, she will furnish both the plan and the +girl; and if you grow supercilious, egad! I'll take her myself."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll not grow supercilious. She is perfect, and anything she'll do will +be all right. I can't believe she is really to be mine. It seems more +like a castle in the air than a real fact."</p> + +<p>"It is not a fact yet," returned Billy, croakingly; "and if this trip +doesn't make it a fact, I venture to prophesy you will have an +untenanted aerial structure on your hands before long."</p> + +<p>"You don't believe anything of the sort, Billy Little," said Dic. "I +can't lose her. It couldn't happen. It couldn't."</p> + +<p>"We'll see. There's the stage horn. Let us hurry out and get an inside +seat. The sky looks overcast, and I shouldn't like to have this coat +rained upon. There's a fine piece of cloth, Dic. Feel it." Dic complied. +"Soft as silk, isn't it?" continued Billy. "They don't make such cloth +in these days of flimsy woolsey. Got it thirty years ago from the famous +Schwitzer on Cork Street. Tailor shop there for ages. Small shop—dingy +little hole, but that man Schwitzer was an artist. Made garments for all +the beaux. Brummel used to draw his own patterns in that shop—in that +very shop, Dic. Think of wearing a coat made by Brummel's tailor. +Remarkable man that, Brummel—George Bryan Brummel. Good head, full of +good brains. Son of a confectioner; friend of a prince. Upon one +occasion the Prince of Wales wept because Brummel made sport of his +coat. Yes, egad! blubbered. I used to know him well. Knew the 'First +Gentleman' of Europe, too, the Prince of Wales. Won a thousand and +eleven pounds from Brummel one night at whist. He paid the eleven and +still owes the thousand. Had a letter from him less than a year ago, +saying he hoped to pay me some day; but bless your soul, Dic, he'll +never be able to pay a farthing. He's in France now, because he owes +nearly every one in England. Fine gentleman, though,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> fine gentleman, +every inch of him. Well, this coat was made by his tailor. You don't +blame me for taking good care of it, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed not," answered Dic, amused, though in sympathy with Beau +Brummel's friend.</p> + +<p>"I have two vests in my trunk by the same artist," continued Billy. "I +don't wear them now. They won't button over my front. I'll show them to +you some day."</p> + +<p>At this point in the conversation our friends stepped into the stage +coach. Others being present, Billy was silent as an owl at noonday. With +one or two sympathetic listeners Billy was a magpie; with many, he was a +stork—he loved companionship, but hated company.</p> + +<p>Arriving at Indianapolis, our worthy kidnappers sought the house of +unsuspecting Justice, and were received with a frigid dignity becoming +that stern goddess. Dic, wishing to surprise Rita, had not informed her +of his intended visit. After waiting a few minutes he asked, "Where is +Rita?"</p> + +<p>"She is sick," responded Mrs. Bays. "She has not been out of her bed for +three days. We have had two doctors with her. She took seven different +kinds of medicine all yesterday, and to-day she has been very bad."</p> + +<p>"No wonder," remarked Billy; "it's a miracle she isn't dead. Seven +different kinds! It's enough to have killed a horse. Fortunately she is +young and very strong."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure she would have died without them," answered Mrs. Bays.</p> + +<p>"You believe six different kinds would not have saved her, eh?" asked +Billy.</p> + +<p>"Something saved her. It must have been the medicine," replied Mrs. +Bays, partly unconscious of Billy's irony. She was one of the many +millions who always accept the current humbug in whatever form he comes. +Let us not, however, speak lightly of the humble humbug.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> Have you ever +considered how empty this world would be without his cheering presence? +You notice I give the noun "humbug" the masculine gender. The feminine +members of our race have faults, but great, monumental, world-pervading +humbugs are masculine, one and all, from the old-time witch doctor and +Druid priest down to the—but Mrs. Bays was speaking:—</p> + +<p>"The doctors worked with her for four hours last night, and when they +left she was almost dead."</p> + +<p>"Almost?" interrupted Billy. "Fortunate girl!"</p> + +<p>"I hope I may see her," asked Dic, timidly.</p> + +<p>"No, you can't," replied Mrs. Bays with firmness. "She's in bed, and I +<i>hardly</i> think it would be the proper thing."</p> + +<p>"Dic!" called a weak little voice from the box stairway leading from the +room above. "Dic!" And that young man sprang to the stairway door with +evident intent to mount. Mrs. Bays hurried after him, crying:—</p> + +<p>"You shall not go up there. She's in bed, I tell you. You can't see +her."</p> + +<p>Billy rose to his feet and stood behind her. When Dic stopped, at the +command of Mrs. Bays, Billy made an impatient gesture and pointed to the +room above, emphasizing the movement with a look that plainly said, "Go +on, you fool," and Dic went.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bays turned quickly upon Billy, but his pale countenance was as +expressionless as usual, and he was examining his finger tips with such +care one might have supposed them to be rare natural curiosities.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Dic," cried the same little voice from the bed, when that young man +entered the room, and two white arms, from which the sleeves had fallen +back, were held out to him as the pearly gates might open to a wandering +soul.</p> + +<p>Dic knelt by the bedside, and the white arms entwined themselves about +his neck. He spoke to her rapturously,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> and placed his cool cheek +against her feverish face. Then the room grew dark to the girl, her eyes +closed, and she fainted.</p> + +<p>Dic thought she was dead, and in an agony of alarm placed his ear to her +heart, hoping to hear its beating. No human motive could have been purer +than Dic's. Of that fact I know you are sure, else I have written of him +in vain; but when Mrs. Bays entered the room and saw him, she was +pleased to cry out:—</p> + +<p>"Help! help! he has insulted my daughter."</p> + +<p>Billy mounted the stairway in three jumps, a feat he had not performed +in twenty years, and when he entered the room Mrs. Bays pointed +majestically to the man kneeling by Rita's bed.</p> + +<p>"Take that man from my house, Mr. Little," cried Mrs. Bays in a +sepulchral, judicial tone of voice. "He broke into her room and insulted +my sick daughter when she was unconscious."</p> + +<p>Dic remained upon his knees by the bedside, and did not fully grasp the +meaning of his accuser's words. Billy stepped to Rita's side, and taking +her unresisting hand hastily sought her pulse. Then he spoke gruffly to +Mrs. Bays, who had wrought herself into a spasm of injured virtue.</p> + +<p>"She has fainted," cried Billy. "Fetch cold water quickly, and a drop of +whiskey."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bays hastened downstairs, and Dic followed her.</p> + +<p>"Get the whiskey," he cried. "I'll fetch the water," and a few seconds +thereafter Billy was dashing cold water in Rita's face. The great brown +eyes opened, and the half-conscious girl, thinking that Dic was still +leaning over her, lifted her arms and gave poor old Billy a moment in +paradise, by entwining them about his neck. He enjoyed the delicious +sensation for a brief instant, and said:—</p> + +<p>"I'm Billy Little, Rita, not Dic." Then the eyes opened wider as +consciousness returned, and she said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I thought Dic was here."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes, Rita," said Dic, "I am here. I was by your side a moment +since. I came so suddenly upon you that you fainted; then Billy Little +took my place."</p> + +<p>"And you thought I was Dic," said Billy, laughingly.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad I did," answered the girl with a rare smile, again placing her +arms about his neck and drawing his face down to hers; "for I love you +also very, very dearly." Billy's heart sprang backward thirty years, and +thumped away astonishingly. At that moment Mrs. Bays returned with the +whiskey, and Billy prepared a mild toddy.</p> + +<p>"The doctor said she must not have whiskey while the fever lasts," +interposed Mrs. Bays.</p> + +<p>"We'll try it once," replied Billy, "and if it kills her, we'll not try +it again. Here, Rita, take a spoonful of this."</p> + +<p>Dic lifted her head, and Billy administered the deadly potion, while the +humbug lover stood by, confidently expecting dire results, but too much +subdued by the situation to interpose an objection.</p> + +<p>Soon Rita asked that two pillows be placed under her head, and, sitting +almost upright in bed, declared she felt better than for several days.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bays knew that Dic's motive had been pure and spotless, but she had +no intention of relinquishing the advantage of her false position. She +had for months been seeking an excuse to turn Dic from her house, and +now that it had come, she would not lose it. Going to Rita's side, she +again took up her theme:—</p> + +<p>"No wonder my poor sick daughter fainted when she was insulted. I can't +tell you, Mr. Little, what I saw when I entered this room."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," cried Rita, "you were wrong. You do not understand. When I +saw Dic, I held up my arms to him, and he came to me because I wanted +him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> don't know, my daughter, you don't know," interrupted Mrs. Bays. +"I would not have you know. But I will protect my daughter, my own flesh +and blood, against insult at the cost of my life, if need be. I have +devoted my life to her; I have toiled and suffered for her since I gave +her birth, and no man shall enter my house and insult her while I have +strength to protect her." She gathered force while she spoke, and talked +herself into believing what she knew was false, as you and I may easily +do in very important matters if we try.</p> + +<p>"My dear woman," said Billy, in surprise bordering on consternation, +"you don't mean you wish us to believe that you believe that Dic +insulted Rita?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw him insult her. I saw it with my own eyes."</p> + +<p>"In what manner?" demanded Dic.</p> + +<p>He was beginning to grasp the meaning of her accusation, and was +breathing heavily from suppressed excitement. Before she could reply he +fully understood, and a wave of just anger swept over him.</p> + +<p>"Old woman, you know you lie!" he cried. "I revere the tips of Rita's +fingers, and no unholy thought of her has ever entered my mind. <i>I</i> +insult her! You boast of your mother's love. You have no love for her of +any sort. You have given her nothing but hard, cold cruelty all her life +under the pretence—perhaps belief—that you were kind; but if your love +were the essence of mother love, it would be as nothing compared to my +man's love for the girl who will one day be my wife and bear my +children."</p> + +<p>The frightened old woman shrank from Dic and silently took a chair by +the window. Then Dic turned to the bed, saying:—</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Rita, forgive me. I was almost beside myself for a moment. +Tell me that you know I would not harm you."</p> + +<p>"Of course you would do me no harm," she replied sob<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>bing. "You could +not. You would be harming yourself. But how could you speak so violently +to my mother? You were terrible, and I was frightened. How could you? +How could you?"</p> + +<p>"I was wild with anger—but I will explain to you some day when you are +my wife. I will not remain in this house. I must not remain, but I will +come to you when you are well. You will write me, and I will come. You +want me, don't you, Rita?"</p> + +<p>"As I want nothing else in all the world," she whispered, taking his +face between her hands.</p> + +<p>"And you still love me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah," was her only reply; but the monosyllable was eloquent.</p> + +<p>Dic at once left the house, but Billy Little remained.</p> + +<p>"I never in all my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Bays, rising from her chair. +Billy did not comprehend the exact meaning of her mystic words, but in a +general way supposed they referred to her recent experiences as unusual.</p> + +<p>"You were mistaken, Mrs. Bays," he said. "Dic could not offer insult to +your daughter. You were mistaken."</p> + +<p>"I guess I was," she replied; "I guess I was, but I never, I never in +all my life!"</p> + +<p>The old woman was terribly shaken up; but when Billy took his departure, +her faculties returned with more than pristine vigor, and poor, sick +Rita, as usual, fell a victim to her restored powers of invective.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bays shed no tears. The salt in her nature was not held in +solution, but was a rock formation from which tears could not easily be +distilled.</p> + +<p>"I have nursed you through sickness," she said, turning upon Rita with +an indignant, injured air. "I have toiled for you, suffered for you, +prayed for you. I have done my duty by you if mother ever did duty by +child, and now I am insulted for your sake; but I bear it all with a +contrite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> spirit because you are my daughter, though God's just hand is +heavy upon me. There is one burden I will bear no longer. You must give +up that man—that brute, who just insulted me."</p> + +<p>"He did not insult you, mother."</p> + +<p>"He did, and nothing but God's protecting grace saved me from bodily +harm in my own house while protecting my daughter's honor."</p> + +<p>"But, mother," cried Rita, weeping, "you are wrong. If there was any +wrong, it was I who did it."</p> + +<p>"You don't know! Oh, that I should live to see what I did see, and +endure what I have endured this day for the sake of an ungrateful +daughter—oh, sharper than a serpent's tooth, as the good book says—to +be insulted—I never! I never!"</p> + +<p>Rita, of course, had been weeping during her mother's harangue; but when +the old woman took up her meaningless refrain, "I never! I never!" the +girl's sobs became almost convulsive. Mrs. Bays saw her advantage and +determined not to lose it.</p> + +<p>"Promise me," demanded this tender mother, rudely shaking the girl, +"promise me you will never speak to him again."</p> + +<p>Rita did not answer—she could not, and the demand was repeated. Still +Rita answered not.</p> + +<p>"If you don't promise me, I'll leave your bedside. I'll never speak your +name again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," sobbed the girl, "I beg you not to ask that promise of me. +I can't give it. I can't. I can't."</p> + +<p>"Give me the promise this instant, or I'll disown you. Do you promise?"</p> + +<p>The old woman bent fiercely over her daughter and waited stonily for an +answer. Rita shrank from her, but could not resist the domineering old +creature, so she whispered:—</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, I promise," and the world seemed to be slipping away from +her forever.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE DIMPLER</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Dimpler</span></h4> + + +<p>Billy Little soon found Dic and greeted him with, "Well, we haven't got +her yet."</p> + +<p>"No, but when she recovers, we will have her. What an idiot I was to +allow that old woman to make me angry!"</p> + +<p>"You are right for once, Dic," was Billy's consoling reply. "She has +been waiting for an excuse to turn you from her doors, and you furnished +it. I suppose you can never enter the house again."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to enter it, unless by force to take Rita. Why didn't I +take her long ago? It serves no purpose to call myself a fool, but—"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's a satisfaction," interrupted Billy, "a satisfaction to +discover yourself at last. Self-knowledge is the summit of all wisdom."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Billy Little, don't torture me; I am suffering enough as it is." +Billy did not answer, but took Dic's hand and held it in his warm clasp +for a little time as they walked in silence along the street.</p> + +<p>The two disconsolate lovers who had come a-kidnapping remained over +night in Indianapolis, and after breakfast Billy suggested that they +discuss the situation in detail.</p> + +<p>"Have you thought of any plan whereby you may communicate with Rita?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Dic.</p> + +<p>"Do you know any of her girl friends?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The very thing!" exclaimed Dic, joyous as possible under the +circumstances. "I'll see Miss Tousy, and she will help us, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Is she sentimentally inclined?" queried Billy.</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Is her face round or oval?"</p> + +<p>"Oval," replied Dic, in some perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Long oval?"</p> + +<p>"Rather."</p> + +<p>"Good!" exclaimed Billy. "Does she talk much or little?"</p> + +<p>"Little, save at times."</p> + +<p>"And her voice?"</p> + +<p>"Low and soft."</p> + +<p>"Better and better," said Billy. "What does she read?"</p> + +<p>"She loves Shakespeare and Shelley."</p> + +<p>"Go to her at once," cried Billy, joyfully. "I'll stake my life she'll +help. Show me a long oval face, a soft voice speaking little, and a +lover of poetry, and I'll show you the right sort of heart. But we must +begin at once. Buy a new stock, Dic, and have your shoes polished. Get a +good pair of gloves, and, if you think you can handle it properly, a +stick. Fine feathers go farther in making fine birds than wise men +suppose. Too much wisdom often blinds a man to small truths that are +patent to a fool. I wish you were small enough to wear my coat."</p> + +<p>Dic congratulated himself upon his bulk, but he took Billy's advice +regarding the gloves and stock. Billy was a relic of the days of the +grand beaux, when garments, if they did not make the man, at least could +mar the gentleman, and held his faith in the omnipotence of dress, as a +heritage from his youth—that youth which was almost of another world. +Dic was one of the few men whose splendor of person did not require the +adornments of dress. All women looked upon his redolence of life and +strength<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> with pleasure, and soon learned to respect his +straightforward, fearless honesty. Miss Tousy had noted Dic's qualities +on previous occasions, and valued him accordingly. She was also +interested in Rita, who was her protégée; and she was graciousness +itself to Dic that day as she asked him,</p> + +<p>"What good fortune brings you?"</p> + +<p>"It is bad fortune brings me, I am sorry to say," returned Dic. +"Yesterday was the unluckiest day of my life, and I have come to you for +help."</p> + +<p>Miss Tousy's kind heart responded, as Billy Little had predicted.</p> + +<p>"Then your ill luck is my good fortune. In what way can I help you? I +give you <i>carte blanche</i>; ask what you will."</p> + +<p>"I will not hold you to your offer until I tell you what I want. Then +you may refuse if you feel that—"</p> + +<p>"I'll not refuse," answered the kindly young lady. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"You know that Ri—, Miss Bays, is—has been for a long time—that is, +has promised to be—"</p> + +<p>"I know. But what has happened?"</p> + +<p>"It's a long story. I'll not tell you all. I—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, tell me all—that is, if you wish. I'm eager to hear all, even to +the minutest details. Don't mind if the story is long." And she settled +herself comfortably among the cushions to hear his sentimental +narrative. Dic very willingly told the whole story of yesterday's woes, +and Miss Tousy gave him her sympathy, as only a woman can give. It was +not spoken freely in words, merely in gestures and little ejaculatory +"ah's," "oh's," and "too bad's"; but it was soothing to Dic, and sweet +Miss Tousy gained a lifelong friend.</p> + +<p>"You see," said Dic, after he had finished his story, "I cannot +communicate with Rita. She is ill, and I shall be unable to hear from +her."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll keep you informed; indeed I will, gladly. Oh, that hard old woman! +There is no hallucination so dangerous to surrounding happiness as that +of the Pharisee. Mrs. Bays has in some manner convinced herself that her +hardness is goodness, and she actually imposes the conviction upon +others. Her wishes have come to bear the approval of her conscience. +Every day of my life I grow more thankful that I have a sweet, gentle +mother. But Mrs. Bays intends right, and that, perhaps, is a saving +grace."</p> + +<p>"I prefer a person who intends wrong and does right to one who intends +right and does wrong," replied Dic. "I know nothing so worthless and +contemptible as mistaken good intentions. But we should not criticise +Rita's mother."</p> + +<p>"No," returned Miss Tousy; "and I'll go to see Rita every day—twice a +day—and will write to you fully by every mail."</p> + +<p>"I intend to remain at the inn till she recovers. I couldn't wait for +the mail."</p> + +<p>"Very well, that is much better. I'll send you word to the inn after +each visit, or, if you wish, you may come to me evenings, and I'll tell +you all about her. Shall I see you to-night, and shall I carry any +message?"</p> + +<p>"Tell her I will remain till she is better, and—and then I—I +will—that will be all for the present."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Billy Little was for going home at noon, but Dic begged him to remain. +The day was very long for Dic, notwithstanding Billy's companionship, +and twice during the afternoon he induced his friend to exhibit the +Brummel coat at the street-crossing a short distance south of the house +wherein the girl of girls lay ill and grieving. After much persuasion, +Billy consented to accompany Dic on his visit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> that evening to Miss +Tousy. The Schwitzer coat was carefully brushed, the pale face was +closely shaved and delicately powdered, and the few remaining hairs were +made to do the duty of many in covering Billy's blushing baldness.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had one of my waistcoats here," said our little coxcomb. "I +would button it if I had to go into stays—egad! I would. I will show +you those waistcoats some day,—India silk—corn color, with a touch of +gold braid at the pockets, ivory buttons the size of a sovereign, with +gold centres, made by the artist who made the coat. The coat is all +right. Wouldn't be ashamed to wear it to a presentation. I will button +it over this waistcoat and it will not be noticed. How do you like this +stock—all right?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is."</p> + +<p>"I have a better one at home. Got it down by the bank. Smith, Dye and +Company, Limited, Haberdashers. I can recommend the place if—if you +ever go to London. Brummel's haberdasher—Brummel knew the best places. +Depend upon him for that. Where he dealt, there you would hear the tramp +of many feet. He made Schwitzer's fortune. Wonderful man, Brummel. +Wonderful man, and I like him if he does owe me a thousand pounds thirty +years past due. Egad! it has been so long since I carried a stick I have +almost lost the knack of the thing. A stick is a useful thing to a +gentleman. Gives him grace, furnishes occupation for his hands. Gloves +in one hand, stick in the other—no man need get his hands mixed. Got +this stick down on Washington Street an hour ago. How do I seem to +handle it?" He walked across the room, holding the stick in the most +approved fashion—of thirty years before.</p> + +<p>"It's fine, Billy Little, it's fine," answered Dic, sorry to see an +apparent weakness in his little friend, though loving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> him better for +the sake of it. The past had doubled back on Billy for a day, and he +felt a touch of his youth—of that olden time when the first dandy of +England was heir-apparent to the crown and blubbered over an ill-fitting +coat. If you will look at the people of those times through the lens of +that fact, you will see something interesting and amusing.</p> + +<p>After many glances toward the mirror, Billy announced that he was ready, +and marched upon Miss Tousy, exulting in the fact that there was not in +all the state another coat like the one he wore. Billy's vanity, to do +him justice, was not at all upon his own account. He wished to appear +well for Dic's sake, and ransacked his past life for points in etiquette +and manner once familiar, but now almost forgotten by him and by the +world. His quaint old resurrections were comical and apt to create +mirth, but beneath their oddities I believe a discerning person would +easily have recognized the gentleman.</p> + +<p>I shall not describe to you Billy's Regency bow when Dic presented him +to Miss Tousy; nor shall I bring into his conversation all the "My dear +madams," "Dear ladys," and "Beg pardons," scattered broadcast in his +effort to do credit to his protégé. But Miss Tousy liked Billy, while +she enjoyed his old-fashioned affectations; and in truth the man was in +all respects worthy of the coat.</p> + +<p>"Rita is very ill," Miss Tousy said. "Mrs. Bays says your conduct almost +killed her daughter. Two doctors are with her now."</p> + +<p>"Terrible, my dear madam, terrible," interrupted Billy, and Miss Tousy +continued:—</p> + +<p>"I whispered to Rita that you would remain, and she murmured, 'I'm so +glad. Tell him mother forced me to promise that I would never see him +again, and that promise is killing me. I can't forget it even for a +moment. Ask him to forgive me, and ask him if it will be wrong for me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +to break the promise when I get well. I cannot decide whether it would +be wrong for me to keep it or to break it. Both ways seem wicked to +me!'"</p> + +<p>"Wicked!" cried Billy springing from his chair excitedly, and walking +across the room, gloves in one hand, stick in the other, and Brummel +coat buttoned tightly across the questionable waistcoat, "my dear lady, +tell her it will be wicked—damnable—beg pardon, beg pardon; but I must +repeat, dear lady, it will be wicked and wrong—a damning wrong, if she +keeps the promise obtained by force—by force, lady, by duress. Tell her +I absolve her from the promise. I will go to Rome and get the Pope's +absolution. No! that will be worse than none for Rita; she is a Baptist. +Well, well, I'll hunt out the head Baptist,—the high chief of all +Baptists, if there is one,—and will get his absolution. But, my dear +Miss Tousy, she has faith in me. I have never led her wrong in my life, +and she knows it. Tell her I say the promise is not binding, before +either God or man, and you will help her."</p> + +<p>"And tell her she will not be able to keep the promise," interrupted +Dic. "I'll make it impossible. When she recovers, I'll kidnap her, if +need be."</p> + +<p>"I'll go at once and tell her," returned Miss Tousy. "She is in need of +those messages."</p> + +<p>Dic and Billy walked down to Bays's with Miss Tousy, and waited on the +corner till she emerged from the house, when they immediately joined +her.</p> + +<p>"I gave her the messages," said Miss Tousy, "and she became quieter at +once. 'Tell him I'll get well now,' she whispered. Then she smiled +faintly, and said, 'Wouldn't it be romantic to be kidnapped?' After that +she was silent; and within five minutes she slept, for the first time +since yesterday."</p> + +<p>Rita's illness proved to be typhoid fever, a frightful disease in those +days of bleeding and calomel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<p>Billy returned home after a few days, but Dic remained to receive his +diurnal report from Miss Tousy.</p> + +<p>One evening during the fourth week of Rita's illness Dic received the +joyful tidings that the fever had subsided, and that she would recover. +He spent a great part of the night watching her windows from across the +street, as he had spent many a night before.</p> + +<p>On returning to the inn he found a letter from Sukey Yates. He had been +thinking that the fates had put aside their grudge against him, and that +his luck had turned. When he read the letter announcing that the poor +little dimpler was in dire tribulation, and asking him to return to her +at once and save her from disgrace, he still felt that the fates had +changed—but for the worse. He was sure Sukey might, with equal +propriety, make her appeal to several other young men—especially to Tom +Bays; but he was not strong enough in his conviction to relieve himself +of blame, or entirely to throw off a sense of responsibility. In truth, +he had suffered for weeks with an excruciating remorse; and the sin into +which he had been tempted had been resting like lead upon his +conscience. He remembered Billy's warning against Sukey's too seductive +charms; and although he had honestly tried to follow the advice, and had +clearly seen the danger, he had permitted himself to be lured into a +trap by a full set of dimples and a pair of moist, red lips. He was not +so craven as to say, even to himself, that Sukey was to blame; but deep +in his consciousness he knew that he had tried not to sin; and that +Sukey, with her allurements, half childish, half-womanly, and +all-enticing, had tempted him, and he had eaten. The news in her letter +entirely upset him. For a time he could not think coherently. He had +never loved Sukey, even for a moment. He could not help admiring her +physical beauty. She was a perfect specimen of her type, and her too +affectionate heart and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> joyous, never-to-be-ruffled good humor made her +a delightful companion, well fitted to arouse tenderness. Add virtue and +sound principle to Sukey's other attractions, and she would have made a +wife good enough for a king—too good, far too good. For the lack of +those qualities she was not to blame, since they spring from heredity or +environment. Sukey's parents were good, honest folk, but wholly unfitted +to bring up a daughter. Sukey at fourteen was quite mature, and gave +evidence of beauty so marked as to attract men twice her age, who "kept +company" with her, as the phrase went, sat with her till late in the +night, took her out to social gatherings, and—God help the girl, she +was not to blame. She did only as others did, as her parents permitted; +and her tender little heart, so prone to fondness, proved to be a curse +rather than the blessing it would have been if properly directed and +protected. Mentally, physically, and temperamentally she was very close +to nature, and nature, in the human species, needs curbing.</p> + +<p>The question of who should bear the blame did not enter into Dic's +perturbed cogitations. He took it all upon his own broad shoulders, and +did not seek to hide his sin under the cloak of that poor extenuation, +"she did tempt me." If Rita's love should turn to hatred (he thought it +would), he would marry Sukey and bear his burden through life; but if +Rita's love could withstand this shock, Sukey's troubles would go +unrighted by him. Those were the only conclusions he could reach. His +keen remorse was the result of his sin; and while he pitied Sukey, he +did not trust her.</p> + +<p>Next morning Dic saw Miss Tousy and took the stage for home. His first +visit was to Billy Little, whom he found distributing letters back of +the post-office boxes.</p> + +<p>"How is Rita?" asked Billy.</p> + +<p>"She's much better," returned Dic. "Miss Tousy tells<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> me the fever has +left her, and the doctors say she will soon recover. I wanted to see her +before I left, but of course that could not be; and—and the truth is I +could not have looked her in the face."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Billy was busy throwing letters.</p> + +<p>"Because—because, Billy Little, I am at last convinced that I represent +the most perfect combination of knave and fool that ever threw heaven +away and walked open-eyed into hell."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," replied the postmaster, continuing to toss letters +into their respective boxes. "I ... don't know. The world has seen some +rare (Mrs. Sarah Cummins) combinations of that sort." After a long pause +he continued: "I ... I don't believe (Peter Davidson) I don't believe +... there is much knave in you. Fool, perhaps (Atkinson, David. He +doesn't live here), in plenty—." Another pause, while three or four +letters were distributed. "Suppose you say that the formula—the +chemical formula—of your composition would stand (Peter Smith) F<sub>9</sub> +K<sub>2</sub>. Of course, at times, you are all M, which stands for man, but +(Jane Anderson, Jane Anderson. Jo John's wife, I suppose)—"</p> + +<p>"You will not jest, Billy Little, when you have heard all."</p> + +<p>"I am not ... jesting now. Go back ... into my apartments. I'll lock the +door (Samuel Richardson. Great writer) and come back to you (Leander +Cross. Couldn't read a signboard. What use writing letters to him?) when +I have handed (Mrs. Margarita Bays. They don't know she has moved to +Indianapolis, damn her)—when I have handed out the mail."</p> + +<p>Dic went back to the bedroom, and Billy opened the delivery window. The +little crowd scrambled for their letters as if they feared a delay of a +moment or two would fade the ink, and when the mail had been distributed +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> calm postmaster went back to hear Dic's troubles. At no time in +that young man's life had his troubles been so heavy. He feared Billy +Little's scorn and biting sarcasm, though he well knew that in the end +he would receive sympathy and good advice. The relation between Dic and +Billy was not only that of intimate friendship; it was almost like that +between father and son. Billy felt that it was not only his privilege, +but his duty, to be severe with the young man when necessity demanded. +When Dic was a boy he lost his father, and Billy Little had stood as +substitute for, lo, these many years.</p> + +<p>When Billy entered the room, Dic was lost amid the flood of innumerable +emotions, chief among which were the fear that he had lost Rita and the +dread of her contempt.</p> + +<p>Billy went to the fireplace, poked the fire, lighted his pipe, and +leaned against the mantel-shelf.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the trouble now?" asked Brummel's friend.</p> + +<p>"Read this," answered Dic, handing him Sukey's letter.</p> + +<p>Billy went to the window, rested his elbows upon the piano, put on his +"other glasses," and read aloud:—<br /><br /></p> + +<blockquote><p>"'<span class="smcap">Dear Dic</span>: I'm in so much trouble.'" ("Maxwelton's braes," +exclaimed Billy. The phrase at such a time was almost an oath.) +"'Please come to me at once.'" (Billy turned his face toward Dic +and gazed at him for thirty long seconds.) "'Come at once. Oh, +please come to me, Dic. I will kill myself if you don't. I cannot +sleep nor eat. I am in such agony I wish I were dead; but I trust +you, and I am sure you will save me. I know you will. If you could +know how wretched and unhappy I am, if you could see me tossing all +night in bed, and crying and praying, you certainly would pity me. +Oh, God, I will go crazy. I know I will. Come to me, Dic, and save +me. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> have never said that I loved you—you have never asked +me—but you know it more surely than words can tell.'</p> + + +<p class="citation">"'<span class="smcap">Sukey</span>.'" +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>When Billy had finished reading the letter he spoke two words, as if to +himself,—"Poor Rita." His first thought was of her. Her pain was his +pain; her joy was his joy; her agony was his torture. Then he seated +himself on the stool and gazed across the piano out the window. After a +little time his fingers began to wander over the keys. Soon the +wandering fingers began to strike chords, and the random chords grew +into soft, weird improvisations; then came a few chords from the +beloved, melodious "Messiah"; but as usual "Annie Laurie" soon claimed +her own, and Billy was lost, for the time, to Dic and to the world. +Meanwhile Dic sat by the fireplace awaiting his friend's pleasure, and +to say that he suffered, but poorly tells his condition.</p> + +<p>"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked Billy, suddenly turning +on the stool. Dic did not answer, and Billy continued: "Damned pretty +mess you've made. Proud of yourself, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Lady-killer, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Oh, perhaps it wasn't your fault, Adam? You are not to blame? She +tempted you?"</p> + +<p>"I only am to blame."</p> + +<p>"'Deed if I believe you have brains enough to know who is to blame."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have that much, but no more. Oh, Billy Little, don't—don't." +Billy turned upon the piano-stool, and again began to play.</p> + +<p>Dic had known that Billy would be angry, but he was not prepared for +this avalanche of wrath. Billy had grown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> desperately fond of Rita. No +one could know better than he the utter folly and hopelessness of his +passion; but the realization of folly and a sense of hopelessness do not +shut folly out of the heart. If they did, there would be less suffering +in the world. Billy's love was a strange combination of that which might +be felt by a lover and a father. He had not hoped or desired ever to +possess the girl, and his love for Dic had made it not only easy, but +joyous to surrender her to him. Especially was he happy over the union +because it would insure her happiness. His love was so unselfish that he +was willing to give up not only the girl, but himself, his blood, his +life, for her sweet sake. With all his love for Dic, that young man was +chiefly important as a means to Rita's happiness, and now he had become +worse than useless because he was a source of wretchedness to her. You +may understand, then, the reason for Billy's extreme anger against this +young man, who since childhood had been his friend, almost as dear as if +he were his son.</p> + +<p>After rambling over the keys for two or three minutes, he turned +savagely upon Dic, saying:—</p> + +<p>"I wish you would tell me why you come to me for advice. You don't take +it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do, Billy Little. I value your advice above every one else's."</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense. I warned you against that girl—the dimpler: much +you heeded me. Do you think I'm a free advice factory? Get out of here, +get out of here, I say, and let me never see your face—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Billy Little, don't, don't," cried Dic. "You can't forsake me after +all these years you have helped me. You can't do it, Billy Little!"</p> + +<p>"Get out of here, I say, and don't come back—" ("Ah, Billy Little, I +beg—") "till to-morrow morning. Come to-morrow, and I will try to tell +you what to do." Dic rushed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> upon the terrible little fellow, clasped +his small form with a pair of great strong arms, and ran from the room. +Billy sat for a moment gazing at the door through which Dic had passed; +then he arranged his stock, and turned to his piano for consolation and +inspiration.</p> + +<p>Billy knew that he knew Dic, and believed he knew Sukey. He knew, among +other facts concerning Dic, that he was not a libertine; that he was +pure in mind and purpose; that he loved and revered Rita Bays; and that +he did not care a pin for Sukey's manifold charms of flesh and blood. He +believed that Sukey was infatuated with Dic, and that her fondness grew +partly out of the fact that he did not fall before her smiles. He also +believed that her regard for Dic did not preclude, in her comprehensive +little heart, great tenderness for other men. Sukey had, upon one +occasion, been engaged to marry three separate and distinct swains of +the neighborhood, and a triangular fight among the three suitors had +aroused in the breast of her girl friends a feeling of envy that was +delicious to the dimpling little <i>casus belli</i>. After Dic's departure, +Billy sat throughout most of the night gazing into the fire, smoking his +pipe, and turning the situation over in his mind. When Dic arrived next +morning he was seated on the counter ready with his advice. The young +man took a seat beside him.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me all about it," said Billy. "I think I know, but tell me the +exact truth. Don't spare the dimpler, and don't spare yourself."</p> + +<p>Thereupon Dic unfolded his story with a naked truthfulness that made him +blush.</p> + +<p>"I thought as much," remarked Billy, when the story was finished. "Miss +Potiphar from Egypt has brought you and herself into trouble."</p> + +<p>"No, no, Billy Little, you are wrong. I cannot escape blame by placing +the fault upon her. I should despise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> myself if I did; but I would be a +blind fool not to see that—that—oh, I cannot explain. You know there +are Jap Bertram, Dick Olders, Tom Printz, and, above all, Tom Bays, who +are her close friends and constant visitors and—and, you know—you +understand my doubts. I do not trust her. I may be wrong, but I suppose +I should wish to err on the right side. It is better that I should err +in trusting her than to be unjust in doubting her. The first question +is: Shall I marry Sukey if Rita will forgive me? The second, Shall I +marry her if Rita refuses to forgive me? Am I bound by honor and duty to +sacrifice my happiness for the sake of the girl whom I do not, but +perhaps should, trust?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see that your happiness has anything to do with the case," +returned Billy. "If that alone were to be considered, I should say marry +Sukey regardless of your doubts. You deserve the penalty; but Rita has +done no sin, and you have no right to punish her to pay your debts. You +are bound by every tie of honor to marry her, and you shall do so. The +dimpler is trying to take you from Rita, and if you are not careful your +fool conscience will help her to do it."</p> + +<p>"If Rita will forgive me," said Dic.</p> + +<p>"She'll forgive you sooner or later," answered Billy. "Her love and +forgiveness are benedictions she cannot withhold nor you escape."</p> + +<p>I doubt if Billy Little would have been so eager in forwarding this +marriage had not Williams been frowning in the background. Billy, as you +know, had a heart of his own—a bachelor heart; but he hated Williams, +and was intensely jealous of him. So, taking the situation at its worst, +Dic was the lesser of two evils. But, as I have already told you many +times, he passionately loved Dic for his own sake, and his unselfish +regard for the priceless girl made the young man doubly valuable as a +means<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> to her happiness. If Rita wanted a lover, she must have him. If +she wanted the moon, she ought to have it—should have it, if Billy +Little could get it for her. So felt Billy, whose advice brought joy to +Dic. It also brought to him the necessity of a painful interview with +Sukey. He dreaded the interview, and told Billy he thought he would +write to Sukey instead.</p> + +<p>"You can pay at least a small part of the penalty you owe by seeing the +girl and bearing the pain of an interview," replied Billy. "But if you +are too cowardly to visit her, write. I suppose that's what I should do +if I were in your place. But I'd be a poor example for a manly man to +follow."</p> + +<p>"I'll see her," replied Dic. "Poor Sukey! I pity her."</p> + +<p>"It isn't safe to pity a girl like Sukey. Pity has a dangerous kinsman," +observed Billy.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>On his way home, Dic called upon Sukey, and, finding her out, left word +he would return that evening. When she received the message her heart +throbbed with hope, and the dimples twinkled joyously for the first time +in many days. She used all the simple arts at her command to adorn +herself for his reception, and toiled to assist the dimples in the great +part they would soon be called upon to play in the drama of her life. +She knew that Dic did not trust her, and from that knowledge grew her +own doubts as to the course he would take. Hope and fear warmed and +chilled her heart by turns; but her efforts to display her charms were +truly successful; and faith, born of man's admiration, led her to +believe she would that night win the greatest prize the world had to +offer, and would save herself from ruin and disgrace.</p> + +<p>Soon after supper the family were relegated to the kitchen, and Sukey, +with palpitating heart, waited in the front room for Dic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<p>Among our simple rural folk a décolleté gown was considered immodest. In +order to be correct the collar must cover the throat, as nearly to the +chin and ears as possible. Sukey's dresses were built upon this plan, +much to her regret; for her throat and bosom were as white and +plump—but never mind the description. They suited Sukey, and so far as +I have ever heard they were entirely satisfactory to those so fortunate +as to behold them. Therefore, when she was alone, knowing well the +inutility of the blushing rose unseen, she opened the dress collar and +tucked it under at each side, displaying her rounded white throat, with +its palpitating little spot—almost another dimple—where it merged into +the bosom. There was no immodest exposure, but when Mrs. Yates returned +to the room for her glasses, the collar was quickly readjusted and +remained in place till Dic's step was heard. Now, ready, and all +together: dimples, lips, teeth, eyes, and throat, do your duty! So much +depended upon Dic that she wanted to fall upon her knees when he +entered. It grieves me to write thus of our poor, simple little girl, +whose faults were thrust upon her, and I wish I might have told this +story with reference only to her dimples and her sweetness; but Dic +shall not be hopelessly condemned for his sin, if I can prevent it, save +by those who are entitled to cast stones, and to prevent such +condemnation I must tell you the truth about Sukey. The fact that he +would not claim the extenuation of temptation is at least some reason +why he should have it.</p> + +<p>I shall not tell you the details of this interview. Soon after Dic's +arrival our little Hebe was in tears, and he, moved by her suffering, +could not bring himself to tell her his determination. Truly, Billy was +right. It was dangerous to pity such a girl. Dic neither consented nor +refused to marry her, but weakly evaded the subject, and gave her the +impression that he would comply with her wishes. He did not intend to +create that impression; but in her ardent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> desire she construed his +silence to suit herself, and, becoming radiant with joy, was prettier +and more enticing than she had ever before appeared. Therefore, as every +man will agree, Dic's task became difficult in proportion, and painful +beyond his most gloomy anticipations. His weakness grew out of a great +virtue—the wholesome dread of inflicting pain.</p> + +<p>During the evening Sukey offered Dic a cup of cider, and her heart beat +violently while he drank.</p> + +<p>"It has a peculiar taste," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"There are crab apples in it," the girl answered.</p> + +<p>There was something more than crab apples in the cider; there was a love +powder, and two hours after Dic's arrival at home he became ill. Dr. +Kennedy ascribed the illness to poisoning, and for a time it looked as +if Sukey's love powder would solve several problems; but Dic recovered, +and the problems were still unsolved.</p> + +<p>From the day Dic received Sukey's unwelcome letter, he knew it was his +duty to inform Rita of his trouble. He was sure she would soon learn the +interesting truth from disinterested friends, should the secret become +public property on Blue, and he wanted at least the benefit of an honest +confession. That selfishness, however, was but a small part of his +motive. He sincerely felt that it was Rita's privilege to know all about +the affair, and his duty to tell her. He had no desire to conceal his +sin; he would not take her love under a false pretence. He almost felt +that confession would purge him of his sin, and looked forward with a +certain pleasure to the pain he would inflict upon himself in telling +her. In his desire for self-castigation he lost sight of the pain he +would inflict upon her. He knew she would be pained by the disclosure, +but he feared more its probable effect upon her love for him, and looked +for indignant contempt and scorn from her, rather than for the +manifestation of great pain. He resolved to write to Rita<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> at once and +make a clean breast of it; but Billy advised him to wait till she was +entirely well.</p> + +<p>Dic, quite willing to postpone his confession, wrote several letters, +which kind Miss Tousy delivered; but he did not speak of Sukey Yates +until Rita's letters informed him that she was growing strong. Then he +wrote to her and told her in as few words as possible the miserable +story of his infidelity. He did not blame Sukey, nor excuse himself. He +simply stated the fact and said: "I hardly dare hope for your +forgiveness. It seems that you must despise me as I despise myself. It +is needless for me to tell you of my love for you, which has not wavered +during so many years that I have lost their count. But now that I +deserve your scorn; now that I am in dread of losing you who have so +long been more than all else to me, you are dearer than ever before. +Write to me, I beg, and tell me that you do not despise me. Ah, Rita, +compared to you, there is no beauty, no purity, no tenderness in the +world. There seems to be but one woman—you, and I have thrown away your +love as if I were a blind fool who did not know its value. Write to me, +I beg, and tell me that I am forgiven."</p> + +<p>But she did not write to him. In place of a letter he received a small +package containing the ivory box and the unfortunate band of gold that +had brought trouble to Billy Little long years before.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<h2>WISE MISS TOUSY</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Wise Miss Tousy</span></h4> + + +<p>Upon first reading Dic's letter, Rita was stunned by its contents; but +within a day or two her thoughts and emotions began to arrange +themselves, and out of order came conclusion. The first conclusion was a +surprise to her: she did not love Dic as she had supposed. A scornful +indifference seemed to occupy the place in her heart that for years had +been Dic's. With that indifference came a sense of change. Dic was not +the Dic she had known and loved. He was another person; and to this +feeling of strangeness was added one of scorn. This new Dic was a man +unworthy of any pure girl's love; and although her composite emotion was +streaked with excruciating pain, as a whole it was decidedly against +him, and she felt that she wished never to see him again. She began a +letter to him, but did not care to finish it, and returned the ring +without comment, that being the only answer he deserved. Pages of scorn +could not have brought to Dic a keener realization of the certainty and +enormity of his loss. He returned the ring to Billy Little.</p> + +<p>"I thank you for it, Billy, though it has brought grief to me as it did +to you. I do not blame the ring; my loss is my own fault; but it is +strange that the history of the ring should repeat itself. It almost +makes one superstitious."</p> + +<p>"Egad! no one else shall suffer by it," said Billy, opening the huge +iron stove and throwing the ring into the fire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dic's loss was so heavy that it mollified Billy's anger, which for +several days had been keen against his young friend. Billy's own pain +and grief also had a softening effect upon his anger; for with Dic out +of the way, Rita Bays, he thought, would soon become Mrs. Roger +Williams, and that thought was torture to the bachelor heart.</p> + +<p>Rita, bearing the name of his first and only sweetheart, had entered the +heart of this man's second youth; and in the person of Dic he was wooing +her and fighting the good fight of love against heavy odds. Dic, upon +receiving the ring, was ready to surrender; but Billy well knew that +many a battle had been won after defeat, and was determined not to throw +down his arms.</p> + +<p>Thinking over his situation, Dic became convinced that since Rita was +lost to him, he was in honor bound to marry Sukey Yates. Life would be a +desert waste, but there was no one to thank for the future Sahara but +himself, and the self-inflicted sand and thirst must be endured. The +thought of marrying Sukey Yates at first caused him almost to hate her; +but after he had pondered the subject three or four days, familiarity +bred contempt of its terrors. Once having accepted the unalterable, he +was at least rid of the pain of suspense. He tried to make himself +believe that his pain was not so keen as he had expected it would be; +and by shutting out of his mind all thoughts of Rita, he partially +succeeded.</p> + +<p>Sunday afternoon Dic saw Sukey at church and rode home with her, resting +that evening upon her ciphering log. He had determined to tell her that +he would marry her; but despite his desire to end the suspense, he could +not bring himself to speak the words. He allowed her to believe, by +inference, what she chose, and she, though still in great doubt, felt +that the important question was almost settled in her favor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + +<p>During the interim of four or five days Billy Little secretly called +upon Miss Tousy, and incidentally dropped in to see Rita.</p> + +<p>After discussing matters of health and weather, Billy said: "Rita, you +must not be too hard on Dic. He was not to blame. Sukey is a veritable +little Eve, and—"</p> + +<p>"Billy Little, I am sorry to hear you place the blame on Sukey. I +suppose Dic tells you she was to blame."</p> + +<p>"By Jove! I've made a nice mess of it," muttered Billy. "No, Dic blames +himself entirely, but I know whereof I speak. That girl is in love with +him, and has set this trap to steal him from you and get him for +herself. She has been trying for a long time to entrap him, and you are +helping her. Dic is a true, pure man, who has been enticed into error +and suffers for it. You had better die unmarried than to lose him."</p> + +<p>"I hope to die unmarried, and I pray that I may die soon," returned Rita +with a deep, sad sigh.</p> + +<p>"No, you'll not die unmarried. You will marry Williams," said Billy, +looking earnestly into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I shall not."</p> + +<p>"If you wish to throw Dic over and marry Williams, you should openly +avow it, and not seize this misfortune of Dic's as an excuse."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Billy Little, you don't think me capable of that, do you?" answered +Rita, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Do you give me your word you will not marry Williams?" asked Billy, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I give you my word I will not marry him, if—if I can help it," +she answered, and poor Billy collapsed. He took his handkerchief from +his pocket to dry the perspiration on his face, although the room was +cold, and Rita drew forth her handkerchief to dry her tears.</p> + +<p>"Dic loves you, Rita. He is one man out of ten thousand. He is honest, +true, and pure-minded. He has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> sinned, I know; but he has repented. One +sin doesn't make a sinner, and repentance is the market price of mercy. +I know a great deal of this world, my girl, and of its men and women, +and I tell you Dic is as fine a character as I know. I don't know a man +that is his equal. Don't let this one fault condemn him and yourself to +wretchedness."</p> + +<p>"I shall not be wretched," she replied, the picture of woe, "for I +don't—don't care for him. I'm surprised, Billy Little, that I do not, +and I think less of myself. There must be something wrong about me. I +must be wicked when my—my love can turn so easily to indifference. But +I do not care for him. He is nothing to me any more. You may be sure I +speak the truth and—and although I am glad to have you here, I don't +want you to remain if you continue to speak of—of him."</p> + +<p>The situation certainly was confusing, and Billy, in a revery, resorted +to Maxwelton's braes as a brain clarifier. Soon wild thoughts came to +his mind, and wilder hopes arose in his bachelor heart. This girl, whom +he had loved for, lo, these many years, was now free of heart and hand. +Could it be possible there was hope for him? Pat with this strange +thought spoke Rita:—</p> + +<p>"You say he is a splendid man, pure and true and honest; but you know, +Billy Little, that measured by the standard of your life, he is not. I +used to think he was like you, that you had made him like yourself, and +I did love him, Billy Little. I did love him. But there is no one like +you. You are now my only friend." Tears came to her eyes, and she leaned +toward Billy, gently taking his hand between her soft palms. Tumult +caused the poor bachelor heart to lose self-control, and out of its +fulness to speak:—</p> + +<p>"You would not marry me?" he asked. The words were meant as a question, +but fortunately Rita understood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> them as a mere statement of a patent +fact, spoken jestingly, so she answered with a laugh:—</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. I could not marry you, Billy Little. But I wish you +were young; then, do you know, I would make you propose to me. You +should not have been born so soon, Billy Little. But if I can't have you +for my husband, I'll have you for my second father, and <i>you</i> shall not +desert me."</p> + +<p>Her jest quickly drove the wild hopes out of the bachelor heart, and +Billy trembled when he thought of what he had tried to say. He left the +house much agitated, and returned to see Miss Tousy. After a +consultation with that lady covering an hour, he went to the tavern and +took the stage for home.</p> + +<p>Next day, in the midst of Dic's struggles for peace, and at a time when +he had almost determined to marry Sukey Yates, a letter came from Miss +Tousy, asking him to go to see her. While waiting for the stage, Dic +exhibited Miss Tousy's letter, and Billy feigned surprise.</p> + +<p>Two or three days previous to the writing of Miss Tousy's letter, Rita +had told that sympathetic young lady the story of the trouble with Dic. +The confidence was given one afternoon in Miss Tousy's cosey little +parlor.</p> + +<p>"When is your friend Mr. Bright coming to see you?" asked Miss Tousy. +"You are welcome to meet him here if you cannot receive him at home."</p> + +<p>"He will not come again at all," answered Rita, closely scanning her +hands folded on her lap.</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked her friend, in much concern, "has your mother at last +forced you to give him up?"</p> + +<p>"No, mother knows nothing of it yet—nothing at all. I simply sent his +ring back and don't want to—to see him again. Never."</p> + +<p>"My dear girl, you are crazy," exclaimed Miss Tousy. "You don't know +what you are doing—unless you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> grown fond of Mr. Williams; but I +can't believe that is true. No girl would think twice of him when so +splendid a fellow as Dic—Mr. Bright—was—"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," interrupted Rita, "that can never be true. I would never +care for any man as I cared for—for him. But I care for him no longer. +It is all over between—between—it is all over."</p> + +<p>From the hard expression of the girl's face one might easily have +supposed she was speaking the truth; there was no trace of emotion.</p> + +<p>"But, Rita! This will never do!" insisted Miss Tousy. "You don't know +yourself. You are taking a step that will wreck your happiness. You +should also consider him."</p> + +<p>"You don't know what he has done," answered Rita, still looking down at +her folded hands.</p> + +<p>"I don't <i>care</i> what he has done. You did not make yourself love him, +and you cannot throw off your love. You may for a time convince yourself +that you are indifferent, but you are simply lying to yourself, my dear +girl, and you had better lie to any one else—the consequences will be +less serious. Never deceive yourself, Rita. That is a deception you +can't maintain. You may perhaps deceive all the rest of the world so +long as you live—many a person has done it—but yourself—hopeless, +Rita, perfectly hopeless."</p> + +<p>"I'm not deceiving myself," answered the wilful girl. "You don't know +what he has done."</p> + +<p>"I don't <i>care</i>," retorted Miss Tousy warmly. "If he were my lover, I—I +tell you, Rita Bays, I'd forgive him. I'd keep him. He is one out of a +thousand—so big and handsome; so honest, strong, and true."</p> + +<p>"But he's not true; that's the trouble," answered Rita, angrily, +although there had been a soft, tell-tale radiance in her eyes when Miss +Tousy praised him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, he has been inveigled into smiling upon another girl," asked Miss +Tousy, laughing and taking Rita's hand. "That is the penalty you must +pay for having so splendid a lover. Of course other girls will want him. +I should like to have him myself—and, Rita, there are lots of girls +bold enough or weak enough to seek him outright. You mustn't see those +little things. Frequently the best use a woman can make of her eyes is +to shut them."</p> + +<p>In place of shutting her eyes, Rita began to weep, and Miss Tousy +continued:—</p> + +<p>"This man loves you and no other, my sweet one. That's the great thing, +after all. No girl can steal his heart from you—of that you may be +sure."</p> + +<p>"But I say you don't know," sobbed Rita. "I will tell you." And she did +tell her, stumbling, sobbing, and blushing through the narrative of +Dic's unforgivable perfidy.</p> + +<p>Miss Tousy whistled in surprise. After a moment of revery she said: "She +is trying to steal him, Rita, and she is as bad as she can be. If you +will give me your promise that you will never tell, I'll tell you +something Sue Davidson told me." Rita promised. "Not long since your +brother Tom called on Sue and left his great-coat in the hall. Sue's +young sister got to rummaging in Tom's great-coat pockets, for candy, I +suppose, and found a letter from this same Sukey Yates to Tom. Sue told +me about the letter. It breathed the most passionate love, and implored +Tom to save her from the ruin he had wrought. So you see, Dic is not to +blame." She paused, expecting her listener to agree with her; but Rita +sighed and murmured:—</p> + +<p>"He is not excusable because others have been wicked."</p> + +<p>"But I tell you I wouldn't let that little wretch steal him from me," +insisted Miss Tousy. "That's what she's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> trying to do, and you're +helping her. When she was here I saw plainly that she was infatuated +with him, and was bound to win him at any price—at any cost. She had no +eyes nor dimples for any one else when he was by; yet he did not notice +her—did not see her smiles and dimples. Don't tell me he cares for her. +He had eyes for no one but you. Haven't you seen how other girls act +toward him? Didn't you notice how Sue Davidson went at him every chance +she got?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Rita, still studying her folded hands, and regardless of +her tear-stained face.</p> + +<p>"I think Sue is the prettiest girl in town, excepting you," continued +Miss Tousy, "and if she could not attract him, it would be hopeless for +any one else to try."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," murmured Rita, referring to that part of Miss Tousy's remark +which applied to herself.</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't nonsense, Rita. You are the prettiest girl I ever saw—but +no matter. She is pretty enough for me to hate her. She is the sort of +pretty girl that all women hate and fear. She obtrudes her +prettiness—keeps her attractions always <i>en évidence</i>, as the French +say. She moistens her lips to make them tempting, and twitches the right +side of her face to work that dimple of hers. She is so attractive that +she is not usually driven to seek a man openly; but Dic—I mean Mr. +Bright—did not even see her smiles. Every one else did; and I will +wager anything you like she has written love-notes to him—real +love-notes. He would, of course, be too honorable to tell. He's not the +sort of man who would kiss and tell—he is the sort women trust with +their favors—but I'll wager I'm right about Sue Davidson." She was +right, though Dic's modesty had not permitted him to see Miss D.'s notes +in the light Miss Tousy saw them.</p> + +<p>"He is not the man," continued Miss Tousy, "to blame a girl for a fault +of that sort, even in his own mind, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> would not explain at a +woman's expense to save his life. With a man of his sort, the girl is to +blame nine times out of ten. I wouldn't give a fippenny bit for a man no +other girl wanted. There is a large class of women you don't know yet, +Rita. You are too young. The world has a batch of mawkish theories about +them, but there are also a few very cold facts kept in the dark,—lodge +secrets among the sex. Dic is modest, and modesty in an attractive man +is dangerous—the most dangerous thing in the world, Rita. Deliver me +from a shy, attractive man, unless he cares a great deal for me. Shyness +in a man is apt to make a girl bold."</p> + +<p>"It did not make me bold," said Rita, with a touch of fire.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least?" asked Miss Tousy, leaning over the girl's lap, +looking up into her face and laughing. "Now come, Rita, confess; you're +as modest as a girl has any good reason to be, but tell me, didn't +you—didn't you do your part? Now confess."</p> + +<p>"Well, I may have been a little bold, I admit, a very little—just +at—you know, just at one time. I <i>had</i> to be a little—just a +little—you see—you know, outspoken, or—you know what I mean. He might +not have—oh, you understand how such things happen."</p> + +<p>The hands in the lap were growing very interesting during these remarks, +and the tear-stained cheeks were very hot and red.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, dear," said Miss Tousy, leaning forward and kissing the hot +cheeks, "yes, yes, sweet one. I know one just <i>has</i> to help them a bit; +but that is not boldness, that is charity."</p> + +<p>"Since I think about it, perhaps I was," murmured Rita. "I know I have +often turned hot all over because of several things I did; but I cared +so much for him. I was so young and ignorant. That was over two years +ago. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> cared so much for him and was all bewildered. Nothing seemed +real to me during several months of that time. Part of the time it +seemed I was in a nightmare, and again, it was like being in heaven. A +poor girl is not a responsible being at such times. She doesn't know +what she does nor what she wants; but it's all over now. I ... don't ... +care anything ... about ... him now. It's all over." Such a mournful +little voice you never heard, and such a mournful little face you never +saw. Still, it was all over.</p> + +<p>Miss Tousy softly kissed her and said: "Well, well, we'll straighten it +all out. There, don't cry, sweet one." But Rita did cry, and found +comfort in resting her head on Miss Tousy's sympathetic bosom.</p> + +<p>The letter Sue Davidson had found altered Rita's feeling toward Sukey; +but it left untouched Dic's sin against herself, and she insisted that +she did not care for him, and never, never would forgive. With all her +gentleness she had strong nerves, and her spirit, when aroused, was too +high to brook patiently the insult Dic had put upon her. Miss Tousy's +words had not moved her from her position. Dic was no longer Dic. He was +another person, and she could love no man but Dic. She had loved him all +her life, and she could love none other. With such poor sophistry did +she try to convince herself that she was indifferent. At times she +succeeded beyond her most sanguine hope, and tried to drive conviction +home by a song. But the song always changed to tears, the tears to +anger, anger to sophistry, and all in turn to a dull pain at the heart, +making her almost wish she were dead.<br /><br /></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 415px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/fig_006.png" width="415" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Miss Tousy softly kissed her and said, ... 'There, don't +cry, sweet one.'"</span> +</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Meanwhile the affairs of Fisher and Fox were becoming more and more +involved. Crops had failed, and collections could not be made. Williams, +under alleged impera<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>tive orders from Boston, was pressing for money +or security. Tom had "overdrawn" his account in Williams's office; and, +with the penitentiary staring him in the face, was clamoring for money +to make good the overdraft. At home he used the words "overdraft" and +"overdrawn" in confessing the situation. Williams, when speaking to Tom +of the shortage, had used the words "embezzlement" and "thief."</p> + +<p>Rita's illness had prevented Williams's visits; but when she recovered, +he began calling, though he was ominously sullen in his courtship, and +his passion for the girl looked very much like a mania.</p> + +<p>One evening at supper table, Tom said: "Father, I must have five hundred +dollars. I have overdrawn my account with Williams, and I'll lose my +place if it is not paid. I <i>must</i> have it. Can't you help me?"</p> + +<p>"What on earth have you been doing with the money?" asked Tom, Sr. "I +have paid your tailor bills and your other bills to a sufficient amount, +in all conscience, and what could you have done with the money you got +from Williams and your salary?"</p> + +<p>Tom tried to explain, and soon the Chief Justice joined in: "La, father, +there are so many temptations in town for young men, and our Tom is so +popular. Money goes fast, doesn't it, Tom? The boy can't tell what went +with it. Poor Tom! If your father was half a man, he'd get the money for +you; that's what he would. If your sister was not the most wicked, +selfish girl alive, she could settle all our troubles. Mr. Williams +would not press his brother-in-law or his wife's father. I have toiled +and suffered and worked for that girl all my life, and so has her +father, and so have you, Tom. We have all toiled and suffered and worked +for her, and now she's too ungrateful to help us. Oh, 'sharper than a +serpent's tooth,' as the Immortal Bard of Avon truly says."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rita began to cry and rose from her chair, intending to leave the room, +but her mother detained her.</p> + +<p>"Sit down!" she commanded. "At least you shall hear of the trouble you +bring upon us. I have been thinking of a plan, and maybe you can help us +carry it out if you want to do anything to help your father and brother. +As for myself, I don't care. I am always willing to suffer and endure. +'Blessed are they that suffer, for they shall inherit the kingdom of +heaven.'"</p> + +<p>Tom pricked up his ears, Tom, Sr., put down his knife and fork to +listen, and Rita again took her seat at table.</p> + +<p>"Billy Little has plenty of money," continued Mrs. Margarita, addressing +her daughter. "The old skinflint has refused to lend it to your father +or Tom, but perhaps he'll not refuse you if you ask him. I believe the +old fool is in love with you. What they all want with you I can't see, +but if you'll write to him—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't, mother, I can't," cried Rita, in a flood of tears.</p> + +<p>I will not drag the reader through another scene of heart failure and +maternal raving. Rita, poor girl, at last surrendered, and, amid tears +of humiliation, wrote to Billy Little, telling of her father's distress, +her mother's commands, and her own grief because she was compelled to +apply to him. "You need not fear loss of your money, my friend," she +wrote, honestly believing that she told the truth. "You will soon be +repaid. Mr. Williams is demanding money from my father and Uncle Jim, +and I dislike, for many reasons well known to you, to be under +obligations to him. If you can, without inconvenience to yourself, lend +this money, it will help father greatly just at this time, and will +perhaps save me from a certain frightful importunity. The money will be +repaid to you after harvest, when collections become easier. If I did +not honestly believe so, even my mother's commands would not induce me +to write this letter."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rita fully believed the money would be paid; but Billy knew that if he +made the loan, he would be throwing his money away forever.</p> + +<p>After making good Dic's loss of twenty-six hundred dollars,—which sum, +you may remember, went to Bays,—Little had remaining in his strong-box +notes to the amount of two thousand dollars, which, together with his +small stock of goods and two or three hundred dollars in cash, +constituted the total sum of his worldly wealth. He had reached a point +in life where he plainly saw old age staring him in the face—an ugly +stare which few can return with equanimity. The small bundle of notes +was all that stood between him and want when that time should come "sans +everything." But Williams was staring Rita in the face, and if the +little hoard could save her, she was welcome to it.</p> + +<p>Billy's sleep the night after he received Rita's letter was meagre and +disturbed, but next morning he took his notes and his poor little +remainder of cash and went to Indianapolis. He discounted the notes, as +he had done in Dic's case, and with the proceeds he went to the store of +Fisher and Bays. Fisher was present when Billy entered the private +office and announced his readiness to supply the firm with twenty-three +hundred dollars on their note of hand. The money, of course, being +borrowed by the firm, went to the firm account, and was at once applied +by Fisher upon one of the many Williams notes. Therefore Tom's +"overdrafts" remained <i>in statu quo</i>; likewise the penitentiary.</p> + +<p>The payment of Billy Little's twenty-three hundred dollars upon the +Williams debt did not help matters in the least. The notes owed by the +firm of Fisher and Bays to the Williams house aggregated nearly fourteen +thousand dollars, and Billy's poor little all did not stem the tide of +importunity one day, although it left him penniless. The thought of his +poverty was of course painful to Billy, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> he rode home that evening +without seeing Rita, happy and exultant in the mistaken belief that he +had helped to save her from the grasp of Williams.</p> + +<p>That same evening at supper Tom, Sr., told of Billy Little's loan, and +there was at once an outburst of wrath from mother and son because part +of the money had not been applied to Tom's "overdraft."</p> + +<p>"The pitiful sum of twenty-three hundred dollars!" cried Tom. "The old +skinflint might as well have kept his money for all the good it will do +us. Do you think that will keep Williams from suing us?" In Tom's +remarks Mrs. Bays concurred, saying that she "always knew he was a mean +old miser."</p> + +<p>Rita tried to speak in her friend's defence, but the others furiously +silenced her, so she broke down entirely, covered her face with her +hands, and wept bitterly. She went through the after-supper work amid +blinding tears, and when she had finished she sought her room. Without +undressing she lay down on the bed, sobbing till the morning light shone +in at her window. Before she had lost Dic her heart could fly from every +trouble and find sweet comfort in thoughts of him; but now there was no +refuge. She was alone in the world, save for Billy Little. She loved her +father, but she knew he was weak. She loved Tom, but she could not help +despising him. She loved her mother, but she feared her, and knew there +was no comfort or consolation for her in that hard heart. Billy had not +come to see her when he brought the money, and she feared she had +offended him by asking for it.</p> + +<p>Such was the situation when Dic received Miss Tousy's letter inviting +him to call upon her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Miss Tousy greeted Dic kindly when he presented himself at her door, and +led him to the same cosey front parlor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> wherein Rita had imparted the +story of her woes and of Dic's faithlessness. She left her guest in the +parlor a moment or two, while she despatched a note to a friend in town. +When she returned she said:—</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to hear of the trouble between you and Rita, and am +determined it shall be made up at once."</p> + +<p>"I fear that is impossible, Miss Tousy," returned Dic, sadly. "She will +never forgive me. I should not were I in her place. I do not expect it +and am not worth it."</p> + +<p>"But she will forgive you; she will not be able to hold out against you +five minutes if you crowd her. Trust my word. I know more about girls +than you do; but, above all, I know Rita."</p> + +<p>Miss Tousy watched him as he stood before her, hanging his head, a very +handsome picture of abject humility. After a moment of silence Dic +answered:—</p> + +<p>"Miss Tousy, the truth is, I have lost all self-respect, and know that I +am both a fool and a—a criminal. Rita will not, cannot, and ought not +to forgive me. I am entirely unworthy of her. She is gentle and tender +as she can be; but she has more spirit than you would suspect. I have +seen her under the most trying circumstances, and with all her +gentleness she is very strong. I have lost her and must give her up."</p> + +<p>"You'll be no such fool," cried Miss Tousy; "but some one is knocking at +the front door. Be seated, please." She opened the front hall door, +kissed "some one" who had knocked, and said to "some one":—</p> + +<p>"Step into the parlor, please. I will be with you soon." Then she closed +the parlor door and basely fled.</p> + +<p>Dic sprang to his feet, and Rita, turning backward toward the door, +stood trembling, her hand on the knob.</p> + +<p>"Don't go, Rita," said Dic, huskily. "I did not know you were coming +here. I give you my word, I did not set a trap for you. Miss Tousy will +tell you I had no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> thought of seeing you here. I wanted to see you, but +I would not try to entrap you. I intended going to your house openly +that you might refuse to see me if you wished; but since you are here, +please—oh, Rita, for God's sake, stay and hear me. I am almost crazed +by what I have suffered, though I deserve it all, all. You don't know +what I have to say." She partly opened the door; but he stepped quickly +to her side, shut the door, and spoke almost angrily:—</p> + +<p>"You shall hear me, and after I have spoken, if you wish, you may go, +but not until then."</p> + +<p>He unclasped her hand from the knob, and, using more of his great +strength than he knew, led her to a chair and brought another for +himself.</p> + +<p>The touch of command in Dic's manner sent a strange thrill to the girl's +heart, and she learned in one brief moment that all her sophistry had +been in vain; that her love was not dead, and could not be killed. That +knowledge, however, did not change her resolution not to forgive him. +You see, there was a touch of the Chief Justice in the girl.</p> + +<p>"I want you to hear me, Rita, and, if you can, I want you to forgive me, +and then I want you to forget me," said Dic.</p> + +<p>The words "forget me" were not what she had expected to hear. She had +supposed he would make a plea for forgiveness and beg to be taken back; +but the words "forget me," seeming to lead in another direction, +surprised her. With all her resolutions she was not prepared to forget. +She lifted her eyes for a fleeting glance, and could not help thinking +that the memory of his face had been much less effective than its +presence. The tones of his voice, too, were stronger and sweeter at +close range than she had remembered. In short, Dic by her side and Dic +twenty-five miles away were two different propositions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> —the former a +very dangerous and irresistible one, indeed. Still, she would not +forgive him. She could not and would not forget him; but she would shut +her eyes to the handsome face, she would close her ears to the deep, +strong voice, she would harden her heart to his ardent love, and, alas! +to her own. She insisted to herself that she no longer loved him, and +never, never would.</p> + +<p>Every word that Sukey had ever spoken concerning Dic, every meeting of +which she knew that had ever taken place between him and the +dimpler,—in fact, all the trivial events that had happened between her +lover and the girl who was trying to steal him from her, including the +occurrence at Scott's social,—came vividly back to Rita at that moment +with exaggerated meaning, and told her she had for years been a poor, +trusting dupe. She would listen to Dic because he was the stronger and +could compel her to remain in the room; but when he should finish, she +would go and would never speak to Miss Tousy again.</p> + +<p>"This is a terrible calamity I have brought upon us," said Dic, speaking +with difficulty and constraint. "It is like blindness or madness, and +means wretchedness for life to you and me."</p> + +<p>Still the unexpected direction, thought Rita, but she answered out of +her firm resolve:—</p> + +<p>"I shall not be wretched, for I do not—don't care. The time was when I +did care very, very much; but now I—" She did not finish the sentence, +and her conscience reproached her, for she knew she was uttering a big, +black lie.</p> + +<p>Dic had expected scorn, and had thought he would be able to bear it +without flinching. He had fortified himself days before by driving all +hope out of his heart, but (as we say and feel when our dear ones die) +he was not prepared, even though he well knew what was coming. Her words +stunned him for a moment, but he soon pulled himself together, and his +unselfish love brought a feeling akin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> to relief: a poor, dry sort of +joy, because he had learned that she did not suffer the pain that was +torturing him. No mean part of his pain was because of Rita's suffering. +If she did not suffer, he could endure the penalty of his sin with +greater fortitude. This slight relief came to him, not because his love +was weak, but because his unselfishness was strong.</p> + +<p>"If I could really believe that you do not care," he said, struggling +with a torturing lump in his throat, "if I could surely know that you do +not suffer the pain I feel, I might endure it—God in heaven! I suppose +I might endure it. But when I think that I have brought suffering to +you, I am almost wild."</p> + +<p>The girl's hands were folded demurely upon her lap, and she was gazing +down at them. She lifted her eyes for an instant, and there was an +unwonted hardness in them as she answered: "You need not waste any +sympathy on me. I don't want it."</p> + +<p>"Is it really true, Rita," he asked, "that you no longer care for me? +Was your love a mere garment you could throw off at will?" He paused, +but Rita making no reply, he continued: "It wounds my vanity to learn +that I so greatly overestimated your love for me, and I can hardly +believe that you speak the truth, but—but I hope—I almost hope you do. +Every sense of honor I possess tells me I must accept the wages of my +sin and marry Sukey Yates, even though—"</p> + +<p>Suddenly a change came over the scene. The girl who had been so passive +and cold at once became active and very warm. She sprang to her feet, +panting with excitement. Resolutions and righteous indignation were +scattered to the four winds by the tremendous shock of his words. Sukey +at last had stolen him. That thought seemed to be burning itself into +the very heart of her consciousness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You—you marry Sukey Yates!" she cried, breathing heavily and leaning +toward Dic, one hand resting on the arm of his chair, "you <i>marry</i> her?" +The question was almost a wail.</p> + +<p>"But if you no longer care there can be no reason why I should not," +said Dic, hardly knowing in the whirl of his surprise what he was +saying.</p> + +<p>Rita thought of the letter to Tom, and all the sympathetic instincts of +her nature sprang up to protect Dic, and to save him from Sukey's wicked +designs.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she cried, falling back into her chair, "you surely did not +believe me!"</p> + +<p>"And you do care?" asked Dic, almost stunned by her sudden change of +front. Rita's conduct had always been so sedate and sensible that he did +not suppose she was possessed of ordinary feminine weaknesses.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dic," she replied, "I never thought you would desert me." +<i>In</i>consistency may also be a jewel.</p> + +<p>Dic concluded he was an incarnate mistake. Whichever way he turned, he +seemed to be wrong.</p> + +<p>"I desert you?" he exclaimed. "But you returned my ring and did not even +answer my letter, and now your scorn—"</p> + +<p>"What else could you expect?" asked the girl, in a passionate flow of +tears.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I expected, but I certainly did not expect this," +answered Dic, musing on the blessed fault of inconsistency that dwells +in every normal woman's breast. "I did not expect this, or I should have +acted differently toward her after you returned the ring. I would not +have—I—I—God help me!" and he buried his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>"You would not have done what, Dic? Tell me all." Her heart came to him +in his trouble. He had sinned, but he was suffering, and that she could +not bear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> + +<p>The low, soft tones of her voice soothed him, and he answered: "I would +not have allowed her to believe I intended marrying her. I did not tell +her in words that I would, but—I can't tell you. I can't speak." He saw +Rita's face turn pale, and though his words almost choked him, he +continued, "I suppose I must pay the penalty of my sin."</p> + +<p>He gently put the girl from him, and went to the window, where he +leaned, gazing into the street. She also rose, and stood waiting for him +to speak. After a long pause she called his name,—</p> + +<p>"Dic!"</p> + +<p>When he turned she was holding out her arms to him, and the next moment +they were round his neck.</p> + +<p>After a blank hour of almost total silence in the parlor, Miss Tousy +came to the door and knocked. She had listened at the door several times +during the hour; but, hearing no enlightening words or sounds, she had +retreated in good order.</p> + +<p>Allowing a moment to elapse after knocking, Miss Tousy called:—</p> + +<p>"Are you still there?"</p> + +<p>Rita had been very still there, and was vividly conscious of the fact +when Miss Tousy knocked. Going to the door, Rita opened it, saying:—</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are still here. I'm ashamed to have kept you out so long." She +looked her shame and blushed most convincingly.</p> + +<p>Upon hearing the knock, Dic hurried over to the window, and when Miss +Tousy entered he deluded himself into the belief that his attitude of +careless repose would induce her to conclude he had been standing there +all the afternoon. But Miss Tousy, in common with all other young +ladies, had innate knowledge upon such subjects, and possibly also a +little experience—she was twenty-five, mind you—; so she was amused +rather than deceived.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well?" she asked, and paused for answer.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Rita.</p> + +<p>They understood each other, if we do not, for Miss Tousy kissed Rita and +then boldly went to Dic and deliberately kissed him. Thereupon Rita +cried, "Oh!" Dic blushed, and all three laughed.</p> + +<p>"But I'll leave you to yourselves again," said accommodating Miss Tousy. +"I know you want to be alone."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we are through," answered Rita, blushing, and Dic reluctantly +assented. Miss Tousy laughed and asked:—</p> + +<p>"Through what?"</p> + +<p>Then there was more blushing and more laughing, and Rita replied, "Just +through—that's all."</p> + +<p>"Well, I congratulate you," said Miss Tousy, taking Rita's hand, "and am +very happy that I have been the means of bringing you together again. +Take the advice of one who is older than you," continued Miss Tousy, the +old and the wise, "and never, never again allow anything to separate +you. Love is the sweetest blossom of life, whose gentle wings will +always cover you with the aromatic harmony of an everlasting sunlight." +Rita thought the metaphor beautiful, and Dic was too interested to be +critical. Then Rita and Miss Tousy, without any reason at all, began to +weep, and Dic felt as uncomfortable as the tears of two women could make +him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE CHRISTMAS GIFT</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Christmas Gift</span></h4> + + +<p>Dic started home with his heart full of unalloyed happiness; but at the +end of four hours, when he was stabling his horse, the old pain for the +sake of another's sorrow asserted itself, and his happiness seemed to be +a sin. Rita's tender heart also underwent a change while she lay that +night wakeful with joy and gazing into the darkness.</p> + +<p>Amid all her joy came the ever recurring vision of Sukey's wretchedness. +While under the convincing influence of her own arguments and Dic's +resistless presence, she had seen but one side of the question,—her +own; but darkness is a great help to the inner sight, and now the other +side of the case had its hearing. She remembered Sukey's letter to Tom, +but she knew the unfortunate girl loved Dic. Was it right, she asked +herself over and over again, was it right that she should be happy at +the cost of another's woe? Then came again the flood of her great +longing—the longing of her whole life—and she tried to tell herself +she did not care who suffered, she intended to be happy. That was the +way of the world, and it should be her way. But Rita's heart was a poor +place for such thoughts to thrive, and when she arose next morning, +after a sleepless night of mingled joy and sorrow, she was almost as +unhappy as she had been the previous morning. She spent several days and +nights alternating between two opinions; but finally, after repeated +conversations with Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> Tousy, whose opinions you already know, and +after meditating upon Sukey's endeavor to entrap two men, she arrived at +two opposing conclusions. First, it was her duty to give Dic up; and +second, she would do nothing of the sort. That was the first, and I +believe the only selfish resolve that ever established itself in the +girl's heart with her full knowledge and consent. But the motive behind +it was overpowering. She shut her lips and said she "didn't care," and +once having definitely settled the question, she dismissed it, feeling +that she was very sinful, but also very happy.</p> + +<p>Dic, of course, soon sought Billy Little, the ever ready receptacle of +his joys and sorrows.</p> + +<p>No man loved the words, "I told you so," more dearly than Little, and +when Dic entered the store he was greeted with that irritating sentence +before he had spoken a word.</p> + +<p>"You told me what?" asked Dic, pretending not to understand.</p> + +<p>"Come, come," returned Billy, joyously, "I see it in your face. You know +what I mean. Don't try to appear more thick-headed than you are. Oh, +perhaps you are troubled with false modesty, and wish to hide the light +of a keen perception. Let it shine, Dic, let it shine. Hide it not. +Avoid the bushel."</p> + +<p>Dic laughed and said: "Well, you were right; she did forgive me. Now +please don't continue to point out your superior wisdom. I see it +without your help. Get thee a bushel, Billy Little, lest you shine too +brightly."</p> + +<p>"No insolence, young man, no insolence," retorted Billy, with a face +grave and serious, save for a joyful smile in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Close the store door, Billy Little," said Dic, after a few minutes of +conversation, "and come back to the room. I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>"The conceit of some people!" replied the happy mer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>chant. "So you would +have me close my emporium for the sake of your small affairs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded Dic.</p> + +<p>"Well, nothing wins like self-conceit," answered Billy. "Here's the key. +Lock the front door, and I'll be with you when I fold this bolt of India +silk."</p> + +<p>Dic locked the door, Billy finished folding the India silk—a bolt of +two-bit muslin,—and the friends went into the back room.</p> + +<p>How sweet it is to prepare one's self deliberately for good news! Billy, +in a glow of joy, lighted his pipe, moved his chair close to the +fireplace, for the day was cold, and gave the word of command—"Go +ahead!"</p> + +<p>Dic told him all that had happened in Miss Tousy's parlor, omitting, of +course, to mention the blank hour, and added: "I had a letter from Rita +this morning, and she feels as I do, that we are very cruel; but she +says she would rather be selfish and happy than unselfish and miserable, +which, as you know, is not at all true. She couldn't be selfish if she +were to try."</p> + +<p>"Good little brain in that little head," exclaimed Billy. "There never +was a better. But, as you say, she's wrong in charging herself with +selfishness. I believe she has more common sense, more virtue, more +tenderness, gentleness, beauty, and unselfishness than any other girl in +the world."</p> + +<p>Dic laughed, very much pleased with his friend's comments upon Rita. "I +believe you are in love with her yourself."</p> + +<p>The shaft unintentionally struck centre and Billy's scalp blushed as he +haltingly remarked, "Well, I suppose you're right." Then after a long +pause—"Maxwelton's braes, um, um, um." Another long pause ensued, +during which Billy knocked the ashes from his pipe against the wall of +the fireplace, poked the back-log, and threw on two or three large +pieces of wood.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't mind telling you," he said, chuckling with laughter, "that I +was almost in love with her at one time. She was so perfect—had the +same name, face, and disposition of—of another that—Jove! I was +terribly jealous of you."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," answered Dic, with a great pleased laugh.</p> + +<p>"Of course it was nonsense. I knew it then and know it now; but when, +let me ask you, had nonsense or any other kind of sense anything to do +with a man falling in love?"</p> + +<p>"I think it the most sensible thing a man can do," answered Dic, out of +the fulness of his cup of youth.</p> + +<p>"Has it made you happy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and no."</p> + +<p>"But mostly no?" responded the cynic.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Billy Little, so far it's been mostly no; but the time will come +when I will be very happy because of it."</p> + +<p>"Not if you can help it. We will see how it turns out in the end."</p> + +<p>"Billy Little, you are the greatest croaker I ever knew," observed Dic, +testily.</p> + +<p>"It is better to croak early than to sing too soon. But what do you +want?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know again what I shall do about Sukey since this new change +in Rita. When I thought Rita was lost to me, I fear I permitted Sukey to +believe I would, you know, comply with her wishes; but now I can't, and +I don't know how to tell her about it. I said nothing, but my silence +almost committed me."</p> + +<p>After a moment spent in thought, Billy answered: "Frederick the Great +used to say, 'In default of unanswerable arguments it is better to +express one's self laconically and not go beating about the bush.' Go +tell her."</p> + +<p>"That's easier to advise than to do," retorted Dic. "She will cry, +and—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; if it were as easy to do as it is to advise, this would be +a busy world. She will cry, and a woman's tears hurt the right sort of +man. But bless my soul, Dic, why don't you settle your own affairs? I'm +tired of it all. It's getting to trouble me as much as it troubles you." +Billy paused, gazing into the fire, and dropped into a half-revery. "I +can see the poor little dimpler weeping and grieving. I can hear her +sobs and feel her heartaches. She is not good; but the fault is not +hers, and I wish I might bear her pain and suffer in her stead. I +believe it hurts me more to see others suffer than to suffer myself. I +wish I might bear every one's suffering and die on a modern Calvary. +What a glorious thought that is, Dic—the Master's vicarious atonement! +Even if the story be nothing but a fable, as some men claim, the thought +is a glorious one, and the fate—ah, the fate—but such a fate is only +for God. If I can't help the suffering of the world, I wish I might live +in the midst of Sahara, where I could not hear of human pain. It hurts +me, Dic. Indeed it does. And this poor little dimpler—I'm sorry, I'm +sorry."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Billy Little, think of my sorrow," said Dic.</p> + +<p>"It's a question whether we should shrink from our troubles or face +them," continued Little; "but in your case I should choose the +shrinking, and write to the poor, pathetic little dimpler. Poor thing! +Her days of dimpling are over. If you knew that you had led her astray, +your duty, I believe, would be clear; but there is the 'if' that gives +us serious pause and makes cowards of us both. Write to her, Dic. You +are too great a coward to face her, and I'm not brave enough even to +advise it."</p> + +<p>Dic wrote to Sukey, and avoided the pain of facing her, but not the pain +of knowing that she suffered. His letter brought an answer from Sukey +that was harder to bear than reproaches.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> + +<p>Within two or three days Sukey wrote to Rita, whom she knew to be the +cause of Dic's desertion. The letter to Rita, like the one to Dic, +contained no word of reproach. "I do not blame you for keeping him," she +said in closing. "He has always belonged to you. I hope you will be +happy and not trouble yourselves about me. No one knows about this +terrible affair, Rita, but you and Dic, and I hope you will tell nobody. +Especially, please, please, don't tell Tom. This is the only request I +make: don't let Tom know anything about it. I want to confess, Rita, +that I have been very wicked, and that Dic is not to blame. I feel it my +duty to tell you this, so that you may not blame him. I have brought +trouble to you both, and it is as little as I should do to tell you the +truth. The fault was mine. I gave him a love powder. But I loved him."</p> + +<p>Sukey's letter came one morning four or five days before Christmas. Rita +wept all day over it, and at night it helped her in taking a step that +settled all the momentous questions touching Dic and herself.</p> + +<p>On the same fateful day Mr. Bays and Tom came home together in the +middle of the afternoon. That unwonted event was, in itself, alarming. +Rita was reading near the window, and her mother was knitting before the +fire. When our Toms, father and son, entered the room, trouble was +plainly visible upon their faces. Tom senior threw his cap and great fur +coat on the bed, while De Triflin' leaned against the mantel-shelf. +Drawing a chair to the fire, Tom the elder said:—</p> + +<p>"Well, Margarita, I guess we're ruined—Jim and me and Tom—all of us. I +see no earthly way out of it."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked Madam Jeffreys, folding her knitting and +placing it in her lap with great deliberation. Rita dropped her book, +and went over to her father.</p> + +<p>"Williams, I suppose?" queried Madam Jeffreys.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; he has had orders from home to collect the money we owe the house, +or else to take the store, the farm, our household furniture, +everything, at once. Williams leaves for home Christmas Day, and +everything must be settled before then. He gives us till to-morrow noon +to raise the money. But that is not the worst," continued Mr. Bays, +nervously, rising and turning his back to the fire, "Tom has—has +overdrawn his account more than a thousand dollars in Williams's office. +Williams don't call it 'overdrawn.' He calls it embezzlement, theft. Tom +and me went to Judge Blackford and told him just how the money was +taken. The Judge says Williams is right about it; it is embezzlement, +and Williams says the firm insists on prosecuting Tom and sending him to +the penitentiary if the money is not replaced. God only knows what we +are to do, Margarita. The farm is mortgaged for its full value, and so +far as I can see we are ruined, ruined." Tears began to flow over his +cheeks, and Rita, drawing his face down to hers, stood on tiptoe and +tried to kiss the tears away.</p> + +<p>"Let me go to see Billy Little," she said in desperation. "He will lend +us the money; I know he will."</p> + +<p>"Like h—he will," cried gentle Tom. "Dic asked him to loan me enough +money to pay my overdraft—said he would go on the note—but he refused +point blank; said the twenty-three hundred dollars he loaned father and +Uncle Jim Fisher was all the money he had. The miserly old curmudgeon!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bays went weeping to Tom's side. "Poor Tom, my dear, dear son," she +whimpered, trying to embrace him.</p> + +<p>Dear son roughly repulsed her, saying: "There's no need to go outside of +our family for help. If Rita wasn't the most selfish, ungrateful fool +alive, she'd settle all our troubles by one word."</p> + +<p>"Would you have me sell myself, Tom?" asked the ungrateful sister.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course I would!! sell yourself!! rot!! You'd be getting a mighty +good price. There's lots better-looking girls 'en you would jump at the +chance. Sell yourself? Ain't Williams a fine gentleman? Where's another +like him? Ain't he rich? Ain't he everything a girl could want in a +man—everything but a green country clodhopper?"</p> + +<p>"All that may be true, Tom, but I can't marry him. I can't," returned +Rita, weeping and sobbing in her father's arms.</p> + +<p>"Can't you, Rita?" asked Mr. Bays. "All that Tom says about him is true, +every word. Williams is good enough for any girl in the world but you. +No man is that. You would soon forget Dic."</p> + +<p>"No, no, father, never, never, in all my life."</p> + +<p>"And you would soon learn to like Williams," continued the distracted +father. "Please, Rita, try to do this and save me and Tom."</p> + +<p>"She shall do it," cried Madam Jeffreys, taking courage from the +knowledge that at last her husband was her ally. She went to Rita and +pulled her from her father's arms. "She shall do it or go into the +street this very night, never to enter my house again. I'll never speak +to her again if she don't. It will pain me to treat my own flesh and +blood so harshly, but it is my duty—my duty. I have toiled and suffered +and endured for her sake all my life, and it will almost kill me to turn +against her now; but if she don't save her father and brother, I surely +will. God tells me it is my duty. I do not care for myself. I have eaten +husks all my life, ever since I got married, and I can die eating them; +but for the sake of my dear husband and my dear son who bears his own +father's name, it is my duty, God tells me it is my duty to spurn her. +It is but duty and justice; and justice to all is my motto. It was my +father's motto." She was a wordy orator, but her vocabulary was +limited;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> and after several repetitions of the foregoing sentiments, she +turned from oratory to anatomy. "Oh, my heart," she cried, placing her +hand upon her breast, "I believe I am about to die."</p> + +<p>She sank gasping into the chair, from which she had risen to hurl her +Philippic at Rita's head, and by sheer force of her indomitable will +caused a most alarming pallor to overspread her face. Rita ran for the +camphor, Mr. Bays fetched the whiskey, and under these restoratives +Madam Jeffreys so far recovered that her husband and son were able to +remove her from the chair to the bed. Rita, in tribulation and tears, +sat upon the bedside, chafing her mother's hands and doing all in her +power to relieve the sufferer.</p> + +<p>"Don't touch me, ungrateful child," cried Mrs. Margarita, "don't touch +me! If you won't save your father and brother from ruin when you can, +you are not fit to touch your mother. I am dying now," she continued, +gasping for breath. "Because of your cruelty and ingratitude, the blow +has been more than God, in His infinite mercy, has given me strength to +endure. When I am gone, you will remember about this. I forgive you; I +forgive you." Sigh followed sigh, and Rita feared she had killed her +parent.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," she sobbed, "I will do what you wish. Ah, no, I can't. I +can't do it. Don't ask me."</p> + +<p>"Beg her, father, beg her," whispered Mrs. Bays to her spouse when she +saw that Rita was wavering. Bays hesitated; but a look from the bed +brought him to a proper condition of obedience:—</p> + +<p>"Rita, won't you save your father and brother?" he asked, taking his +daughter's hands in his own. "We are all ruined and disgraced and lost +forever if you do not. Rita, I beg you to do this for my sake."</p> + +<p>The father's appeal she could not withstand. She cov<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>ered her face with +her hands; then, suddenly drawing herself upright and drying her tears, +she said in a low voice, "I will."</p> + +<p>Those two little words changed the world for father and son from +darkness to light. They seemed also to possess wonderful curative powers +for heart trouble, for within three minutes they snatched my Lady +Jeffreys from the jaws of death and placed her upright in the bed. +Within another minute she was on her feet, well and hearty as ever, +busily engaged evolving a plan for immediate action.</p> + +<p>"Write to Williams at once," she said to Rita, "asking him to call this +evening. Tell him you want to talk to him about your father's affairs."</p> + +<p>Rita again hesitated, but she had given her word, and accordingly +wrote:—<br /></p> + + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Mr. Williams:</span> If not otherwise engaged, will you please call this +evening. I am in great trouble about my father and Tom, and wish to +talk to you concerning their affairs.</p> + + +<p class="citation">"<span class="smcap">Rita.</span>"<br /> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Tom delivered the note, which threw Williams into a state of ecstasy +bordering on intoxication.</p> + +<p>I beg you to pause and consider this girl's piteous condition. Never in +all the eighteen years of her life had she unnecessarily given pain to a +human heart. A tender, gentle strength, love for all who were near her, +fidelity to truth, and purity without the blemish of even an impure +thought, had gone to make up the sum of her existence. As a reward for +all these virtues she was now called upon to bear the burden of an +unspeakable anguish. What keener joy could she know than that which had +come to her through her love for Dic? What agony more poignant could she +suffer than the loss of him? But, putting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> Dic aside, what calamity +could so blacken the future for her, or for any pure girl, as marriage +with a man she loathed? We often speak of these tragedies regretfully +and carelessly; but imagine yourself in her position, and you will pity +this poor girl of mine, who was about to be sold to the man whom she +despised—and who, worst of all, loved her. Madame Pompadour says in her +memoirs, "I was married to one whom I did not love, and a misfortune +still greater was that he loved me." That condition must be the acme of +a woman's suffering.</p> + +<p>Williams knocked at Rita's door early in the evening, and was admitted +to the front parlor by the girl herself. She took a chair and asked him +to be seated. Then a long, awkward silence ensued, which was broken by +Williams:—</p> + +<p>"You said you wished to see me. Is there any way in which I can serve +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she murmured, speaking with difficulty. "My father and Tom are in +trouble, and I wanted to ask you if anything could be done to—to—" she +ceased speaking, and in a moment Williams said:—</p> + +<p>"I have held the house off for four or five months, and I cannot induce +them to wait longer. Their letters are imperative. I wish I had brought +them."</p> + +<p>"Then nothing can save them?" asked Rita. The words almost choked her, +because she knew the response they would elicit. She was asking him to +ask her to marry him.</p> + +<p>"Rita, there is one thing might save them," replied Roger of the craven +heart. "You know what that is. I have spoken of it so often I am almost +ashamed to speak again." Well he might be.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it? Go on," said Rita, without a sign of faltering. She +wanted to end the agony as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>"If you will marry me, Rita—you know how dearly I love you; I need not +tell you of that. Were you not so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> sure of my love, I might stand better +with you. You see, if you will marry me my father could not, in decency, +prosecute Tom or ruin your father. He would be compelled to protect them +both, being in the family, you know."</p> + +<p>"If you will release Tom and save my father from ruin I will ... will do +... as ... you ... wish," answered the girl. Cold and clear were the +words which closed this bargain, and cold as ice was the heart that sold +itself.</p> + +<p>Williams stepped quickly to her side, exclaiming delightedly, "Rita, +Rita, is it really true at last?"</p> + +<p>He attempted to kiss her, but she held up her hand warningly.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "not till I am your wife. Then I must submit. Till then +I belong to myself."</p> + +<p>"I have waited a long time," answered this patient suitor, "and I can +wait a little longer. When shall we be married?"</p> + +<p>"Fix the time yourself," she replied.</p> + +<p>"I am to leave Christmas morning by the Napoleon stage for home, and if +you wish we may be married Christmas Eve. That will give you four days +for preparation."</p> + +<p>"As you wish," was the response.</p> + +<p>"I know, Rita, you do not love me," said Williams, tenderly.</p> + +<p>"You surely do," she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"But I also know," he continued, "that I can win your love when you are +my wife. I know it, or I would not ask you to marry me. I would not +accept your hand if I were not sure that I would soon possess your +heart. I will be so loving and tender and your life will be so +perfect—so different from anything you have ever known—that you will +soon be glad you gave yourself to me. It will not be long, Rita, not +long."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right," she answered with her lips;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> but in her heart +this girl, who was all tenderness and love, prayed God to strike him +dead before Christmas Eve should come.</p> + +<p>Williams again took his chair, but Rita said, "I have given you my +promise. I—I am—I fear I am ill. Please excuse me for the rest of the +evening and—and leave me, I beg you."</p> + +<p>Williams took his leave, and Rita went into the sitting room, where +father, mother, and Tom were waiting for the verdict.</p> + +<p>"You are saved," said Rita, as if she were announcing dinner.</p> + +<p>"My daughter! my own dear child! God will bless you!" exclaimed the +tender mother, hurrying to embrace the cause of her joy.</p> + +<p>"Don't touch me!" said Rita. "I—I—God help me! I—I fear—I—hate +you." She turned to the stairway and went to her own room. For hours she +sat by the window, gazing into the street, but toward morning she +lighted a candle and told Dic the whole piteous story in a dozen pages +of anguish and love.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>After receiving Sukey's letter, Dic left home for a few days to engage +horses to take east with him in the spring. He did not return until late +in the afternoon of the day before Christmas.</p> + +<p>On the morning of that day—the day before Christmas—Jasper Yates, +Sukey's father, came to Billy Little's store in great agitation. Tom +Bays had been there the day before and had imparted to Billy the news of +Rita's forthcoming wedding. She had supposed that Dic would tell him and +had not written; but Dic was away from home and had not received her +letter.</p> + +<p>I cannot describe to you the overpowering grief this announcement +brought to the tender bachelor heart. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> stunned him, crushed him, +almost killed him; but he tried to bear up manfully under the weight of +his grief. He tried, ah, so hard, not to show his suffering, and +Maxwelton's braes, was sung all day and was played nearly all night; but +the time had come to Billy when even music could not soothe him. There +was a dry, hard anguish at his heart that all the music of heaven or of +earth could not soften. Late in the night he shut his piano in disgust +and sat before the fire during the long black hours without even the +comfort of a tear.</p> + +<p>When Tom imparted the intelligence of Rita's wedding, he also asked +Billy for a loan of four hundred dollars. As an inducement, he explained +that he had forged the name of Mr. Wallace to a note calling for that +sum, and had negotiated the note at an Indianapolis bank. Rita's +marriage would settle the Williams theft, but the matter of the forgery +called for immediate adjustment in cash. Billy refused the loan; but he +gave Tom fifty dollars and advised him to leave the state.</p> + +<p>"If you don't go," said Billy, savagely, "you will be sent to the +penitentiary. Rita can't marry every one you have stolen from. What did +you do with the money you stole from me—Dic's money? Tell me, or I'll +call an officer at once. I'll arrest you myself and commit you. I'm a +justice of the peace. Now confess, you miserable thief."</p> + +<p>Tom turned pale, and, seeing that Billy was in dreadful earnest, began +to cry: "There was five of us in that job," he whispered, "and, Mr. +Little, I never got none of the money. Con Gagen and Mike Doles got it +all. I give them the sacks to keep for a while after I left the store. +They promised to divide, but they run away soon afterwards, and of +course we others were afeared to peach. I didn't know you knowed it. Con +Gagen put me up to it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I do know it. I recognized you when you climbed out the window, +and did not shoot you because you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> were Rita's brother. I said nothing +of the robbery for the same reason, but I made a mistake. Leave my +store. Get out of the state at once. If you are here Christmas Day, I'll +send you where you belong."</p> + +<p>Tom took the fifty dollars and the advice; and the next day—the day +before Christmas, the day set for Rita's wedding—Sukey's father entered +Billy's store, as I have already told you, in great agitation.</p> + +<p>After Yates had talked to Billy for three or four minutes, the latter +hurriedly closed the store door, donned the Brummel coat, and went +across the road to the inn where the Indianapolis coach was waiting, and +took his place.</p> + +<p>At six o'clock that evening Dic arrived at Billy Little's store from his +southern expedition. Finding the store door locked, he got the key from +the landlord of the inn, in whose charge Billy had left it, went to the +post-office, and rejoiced to find a letter from Rita. He eagerly opened +it—and rode home more dead than alive. Rita's wedding would take place +that night at eight o'clock. The thing was hopeless. He showed the +letter to his mother, and asked that he might be left alone with his +sorrow. Mrs. Bright kissed him and retired to her bed in the adjoining +room, leaving Dic sitting upon the hearth log beside the fire.</p> + +<p>Dic did not blame Rita. He loved her more dearly than ever before, if +that were possible, because she was capable of making the awful +sacrifice. He well knew what she would suffer. The thought of her +anguish drowned the pain he felt on his own account, and his suffering +for her sake seemed more than he could bear. Billy Little, he supposed, +had gone to the wedding, and for the first time in Dic's life he was +angry with that steadfast friend. Dic knew that the sudden plunge from +joy to anguish had brought a benumbing shock, and while he sat beside +the fire he realized that his suffering had only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> begun—that his real +anguish would come with the keener consciousness of reaction.</p> + +<p>At four o'clock that same afternoon Billy was seated in Rita's parlor, +whispering to her. "My dear girl, I bring you good news. You can't save +Tom. He forged Wallace's name to a note for four hundred dollars, and +passed it at the bank six weeks ago. He wanted to borrow the money from +me to pay the note, but I did not have it. I gave him fifty dollars, and +he has run away—left the state for no one knows where. He carried off +two of Yates's horses, and, best of all, he carried off Sukey. All +reasons for sacrificing yourself to this man Williams are now removed, +save only your father's debt. That, Fisher tells me, has been renewed +for sixty days, and at the end of that time your father and Fisher will +again have it to face. You could not save them, Rita, if you were to +marry half the men in Boston. Even if this debt were paid—cancelled +—instead of renewed, your father would soon be as badly +off as ever. A bank couldn't keep him in business, Rita. Every one he +deals with robs and cheats him. He's a good man, Rita, kind, honest, and +hard working, but he is fit only to farm. I hate to say it, but in many +respects your father is a great fool, very much like Tom. It is easier +to save ten knaves than one fool. A leopard is a leopard; a nigger is a +nigger. God can change the spots of the one and the color of the other, +but I'm blessed if I believe even God can unmake a fool. Now my dear +girl, don't throw away your happiness for life in a hopeless effort to +save your father from financial ruin."</p> + +<p>"But I have given my word, Billy Little," replied the girl, to whom a +promise was a sacred thing. "I believe my father and mother would die if +I were to withdraw. I must go on, I must; it is my doom. It is only +three hours—oh, my God! have mercy on me—" and she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> broke down, +weeping piteously. Soon she continued: "The guests are all invited, and +oh, I can't escape, I can't! I have given my word; I am lost. Thank you, +dear friend, thank you, for your effort to help me; but it is too late, +too late!"</p> + +<p>"No, it is not too late," continued Billy; "but in three hours it will +be too late, and you will curse yourself because you did not listen to +me."</p> + +<p>"I know I shall; I know it only too well," replied the weeping girl. "I +will not ask you to remain for the—the tragedy."</p> + +<p>"I would not witness it," cried Billy, "for all the gold in the world! +When I'm gone, Rita, remember what I've said. Do not wait until it is +too late, but come with me; come now with me, Rita, and let the +consequences be what they will. They cannot be so evil as those which +will follow your marriage. You do not know. You do not understand. Come +with me, girl, come with me. Do not hesitate. When I have left you, it +will be too late, too late. God only can help you; and if you walk +open-eyed into this trouble, He will <i>not</i> help you. He helps those who +help themselves."</p> + +<p>"No, Billy Little, no; I cannot go with you. I have given my word. I +have cast the die."</p> + +<p>With these words Billy arose, took up his hat, stick, and gloves, went +out into the hall, and opened the front door to go.</p> + +<p>"When I'm gone, Rita, remember what I have said and what I'm about to +say, and even though the minister be standing before you, until you have +spoken the fatal words, it will not be too late. You are an innocent +girl, ignorant of many things in life. Still, every girl, if she but +stops to think, has innate knowledge of much that she is supposed not to +know. When I'm gone, Rita, <i>think</i>, girl, <i>think</i>, think of this night; +this night after the cere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>mony, when all the guests have gone and you +are alone with him. Kill yourself, Rita, if you will, if there is no +other way out of it—kill yourself, but don't marry that man. For the +sake of God's love, don't marry him. Death will be sweet compared to +that which you will suffer if you do. Good-by, Rita. Think of this +night, girl; think of this night."</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Billy Little, good-by," cried the girl, while tears streamed +over her cheeks. As she closed the door behind him she covered her face +with her hands and moaned: "I cannot marry him. How can I kill myself? +How can I escape?"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Madam Jeffreys had donned her black silk dress, made expressly +for the occasion, and was a very busy, happy woman indeed. She did not +know that Tom had run away, but was expecting him home from Blue by the +late stage, which would arrive about seven o'clock.</p> + +<p>Billy left for home on the five o'clock stage, but before he left he had +a talk with Rita's father.</p> + +<p>Soon after Billy's departure, Miss Tousy and a few young lady friends +came to assist at the bride's toilet. It was a doleful party of +bridesmaids in Rita's room, you may be sure; but by seven o'clock she +was dressed. When the task was finished, she said to her friends:—</p> + +<p>"I am very tired. I have an hour before the ceremony, and I should like +to sit alone by the window in the dark to rest and think. Please leave +me to myself. I will lock the door, and, Miss Tousy, please allow no one +to disturb me."</p> + +<p>"No one shall disturb you, my dear," answered Miss Tousy, weeping as she +kissed her. Then the young ladies left the room, and Rita locked the +door.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Mr. Bays entered from Tom's room, which was +immediately back of Rita's. A stairway descended from Tom's room to the +back yard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter border" style="width: 428px; height: 600px;"> +<img src="images/fig_007.png" width="428" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'Here,' Replied The Girl."</span> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p>Mr. Bays kissed Rita, and hastily whispered: "My great-coat, cap, and +gloves are on Tom's bed. Buck is saddled in the stable. Don't ever let +your mother know I did this. Good-by. I would rather die than see you +marry this man and lose Dic. Don't let your mother know," and he hurried +from the room.</p> + +<p>Rita went hurriedly into Tom's room and put on the great-coat, made of +coonskins, a pair of squirrel-skin gloves, and a heavy beaver cap with +curtains that fell almost to her shoulders. She also drew over her shoes +a pair of heavy woollen stockings; and thus arrayed, she ran down the +stairway to the back yard. Flurrying to the stable, she led out "Old +Buck," Mr. Bays's riding horse, and galloped forth in the dark, cold +night for a twenty-six mile ride to Billy Little.</p> + +<p>Soon after Rita's departure the guests began to assemble. At ten minutes +before eight came Williams. Upon his arrival, Mrs. Bays insisted that +Rita should be called, so she and Miss Tousy went to Rita's door and +knocked. The knock was repeated; still no answer. Then Mrs. Bays +determined to enter Rita's room through Tom's,—and I will draw a veil +over the scene of consternation, confusion, and rage that ensued.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Near the hour of two o'clock in the morning another scene of this drama +was enacted, twenty-six miles away. Billy Little was roused from his +dreams—black nightmares they had been—by a knocking on his store door, +and when he sat up in bed to listen, he heard Rita's voice calling:—</p> + +<p>"Billy Little, let me in."</p> + +<p>Billy ran to unlock the front door, crying: "Come in, come in, God bless +my soul, come in. Maxwelton's braes <i>are</i> bonny, bonny, bonny. Tell me, +are you alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Billy, I'm alone, and I fear they will follow me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> Hide me +somewhere. But you'll freeze without your coat. Go and—"</p> + +<p>"Bless me, I haven't my coat and waistcoat on. Excuse me; +excuse—Maxwelton's—I'll be out immediately." And the little old fellow +scampered to his bedroom to complete his toilet. Then he lighted a +candle, placed wood on the fire, and called Rita back to his sanctum +sanctorum. She was very cold; but a spoonful of whiskey, prescribed by +Dr. Little, with a drop of water and a pinch of sugar, together with a +bit of cheese and a biscuit from the store, and the great crackling fire +on the hearth, soon brought warmth to her heart and color to her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with me now you've got me? They will come here +first to find me," she asked, laughing nervously.</p> + +<p>"We'll go to Dic," said Billy, after a moment's meditation. "We'll go to +Dic as soon as you are rested."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Billy Little, I—I can't go to him. You know I'm not—not—you +know."</p> + +<p>"Not married? Is that what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I'm mighty thankful you are not. Dic's mother is with him. It will be +all perfectly proper. But never mind; I have another idea. I'll think it +over as we ride."</p> + +<p>After Rita had rested, Billy donned the Beau Brummel coat and saddled +his horse, and the pair started up Blue to awaken Dic. He needed no +awakening, for he was sitting where we left him, on the hearth, gazing +into a bed of embers.</p> + +<p>When our runaway couple reached Dic's house, Billy hitched his horse, +told Rita to knock at the front door, and took her horse to the stable.</p> + +<p>When Dic heard the knock at that strange hour of the night, he +called:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Who's there?"</p> + +<p>"Rita."</p> + +<p>Dic began to fear his troubles had affected his mind; but when he heard +a voice unmistakably hers calling, "Please let me in; I have brought you +a Christmas gift," he knew that he was sane, and that either Rita or her +wraith was at the door. When she entered, clad in her wedding gown, +coonskin coat and beaver cap, he again began to doubt his senses and +stood in wonder, looking at her.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you glad to see me, Dic?" she asked, laughing. Still he did not +respond, and she continued, "I have ridden all night to bring you a +Christmas gift."</p> + +<p>"A Christmas gift?" he repeated, hardly conscious of the words he spoke, +so great had been the shock of his awakening from a dream of pain to a +reality of bliss. "Where—where is it?"</p> + +<p>"Here," replied the girl, throwing off the great-coat and pressing her +hands upon her bosom to indicate herself. Then Dic, in a flood of +perceptive light and returning consciousness, caught the priceless +Christmas gift to his heart without further question.</p> + +<p>In a moment Billy Little entered the door that Rita had closed.</p> + +<p>"Here, here, break away," cried Billy, taking Rita and Dic each by the +right hand. As he did so Dic's mother entered from the adjoining room, +and Billy greeted her with "Howdy," but was too busy to make +explanations.</p> + +<p>"Now face me," said that little gentleman, speaking in tones of command +to Rita and Dic.</p> + +<p>"Clasp your right hands." The hands were clasped. "Now listen to me. +Diccon Bright, do you take this woman whom you hold by the hand to be +your wedded wife?"</p> + +<p>Dic's faculties again began to wane, and he did not answer at once.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The answer is, 'I do,' you stupid," cried Billy, and Dic said, "I do."</p> + +<p>"Do you, Rita Fisher Bays,—Margarita Fisher Bays,—take this man whom +you hold by the right hand to be your husband?"</p> + +<p>Rita's faculties were in perfect condition and very alert, so she +answered quickly, "I do."</p> + +<p>"Then," continued our worthy justice of the peace, "by virtue of +authority vested in me by the laws of the state of Indiana, I pronounce +you husband and wife. I kiss the bride."</p> + +<p>After kissing Rita, and shaking hands with Dic and Mrs. Bright, Billy +hurried out through the door, and the new-made husband and wife watched +him as he mounted and rode away. He was singing—not humming, but +singing—at his topmost pitch, "Maxwelton's braes are bonny, where early +falls the dew." He had never before been known to complete the stanza. +His voice could be heard after he had passed out of sight into the +forest, and just as the sun peeped from the east, turning the frost dust +to glittering diamonds and the snow-clad forest to a paradise in white, +the song lost itself among the trees, and Dic, closing the door, led +Rita to his hearth log.<br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> + +<h1>Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall</h1> + +<h4>By CHARLES MAJOR</h4> + +<h5><i>Author of "When Knighthood Was in Flower," etc.</i></h5> + +<h6>With eight full-page illustrations by <span class="smcap">Howard Chandler Christy</span></h6> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>"Dorothy Vernon is an Elizabethan maid, but a living, loving, lovable +girl.... The lover of accuracy of history in fiction may rest contented +with the story; but he will probably care little for that once he has +been caught by the spirit and freshness of the romance."—<i>The Mail and +Express.</i></p> + +<p>"Dorothy is a splendid creation, a superb creature of brains, beauty, +force, capacity, and passion, a riot of energy, love, and red blood. She +is the fairest, fiercest, strongest, tenderest heroine that ever woke up +a jaded novel reader and made him realize that life will be worth living +so long as the writers of fiction create her like.... The story has +brains, 'go,' virility, gumption, and originality."—<i>The Boston +Transcript.</i></p> + +<p>"Dorothy is a fascinating character, whose womanly whims and cunning +ways in dealing with her manly, honest lover and her wrathful father are +cleverly portrayed. The interest is maintained to the end. Some might +call Dorothy a vixen, but she is of that rare and ravishing kind who +have tried (and satisfied) men's souls from the days of Mother Eve to +the present time."—<i>The New York Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"A romance of much delicacy, variety, strength, and grace, in which are +revealed the history of four lovers who by their purely human attributes +are distinct types."—<i>Evening Journal News</i>, Evansville.</p> + +<p>"As a study of woman, the incomprehensible, yet thoroughly lovable, +Dorothy Vernon clearly leads all recent attempts in fiction. Dorothy is +a wonderful creature."—<i>Columbus Evening Dispatch.</i></p> + +<p>"Dorothy is a feminine whirlwind, very attractive to her audience if +somewhat disconcerting to her victims, and the story, even in these days +when romance has become a drug, makes good reading."—<i>New York Life.</i><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>The Bears of Blue River</h1> + +<h4>By CHARLES MAJOR</h4> + +<h5><i>Author of "Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall," etc.</i></h5> + +<h6>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. B. FROST AND OTHERS</h6> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + +<p>"The book is thoroughly healthy, and it is infused through and through +with the breath of the forests. It is a delightful book to +read."—<i>Charleston Sun-News.</i></p> + +<p>"The book is especially adapted to boys, but the well-rounded style of +the author, combined with a little natural history, makes it at once +interesting and instructive to young and old alike."—<i>Plymouth Weekly.</i></p> + +<p>"This is not a mere 'boy's book'; it is a work of art, appealing to the +most cultured reader."—<i>Christian World.</i></p> + +<p>"Though the story may have been written for boys, it is even better fun +for older people and sportsmen, as a well-written, spirited book of so +strenuous a life."—<i>Literary World.</i></p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>The Mettle of the Pasture</h1> + +<h4>By JAMES LANE ALLEN</h4> + +<h5>Author of "The Choir Invisible," "A Kentucky Cardinal," +etc., etc.</h5> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + + + +<p>"'The Mettle of the Pasture' contains more characters and a greater +variety of them, it has more versatility, more light and shade, more +humor, than any of his previous books. The story, too, is wider in scope +and the central tragedy draws irresistibly to it....</p> + +<p>"'The Mettle of the Pasture' is a novel of greatness; it is so far Mr. +Allen's masterpiece; a work of beauty and finished art. There can be no +question of its supreme place in our literature; there can be no doubt +of its wide acceptance and acceptability. More than any of his books it +is destined to an enviable popularity. It does not take extraordinary +prescience to predict an extraordinary circulation for it."—<span class="smcap">James +MacArthur</span> in a review in the August <i>Reader</i>.</p> + +<p>"It may be that 'The Mettle of the Pasture' will live and become a part +of our literature; it certainly will live far beyond the allotted term +of present-day fiction. Our principal concern is that it is a notable +novel, that it ranks high in the entire range of American and English +fiction, and that it is worth the reading, the re-reading, and the +continuous appreciation of those who care for modern literature at its +best."—<i>The Boston Transcript.</i></p> + +<p>"In 'The Mettle of the Pasture' Mr. Allen has reached the high-water +mark thus far of his genius as a novelist. The beauty of his literary +style, the picturesque quality of his description, the vitality, +fulness, and strength of his artistic powers never showed to better +advantage.... Its reader is fascinated by the picturesque descriptions, +the humor, the clear insight, and the absolute interest of his +creations."—<i>The Brooklyn Eagle.</i></p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>The Call of the Wild</h1> + +<h4>By JACK LONDON</h4> + +<h5>Author of "The Children of the Frost," etc., etc.</h5> + +<h6>Illustrated<span class="space"> </span>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h6> + + +<p>All those who have read it believe that <span class="smcap">Jack London's</span> new story, "The +Call of the Wild," will prove one of the half-dozen memorable books of +1903. This story takes hold of the universal things in human and animal +nature; it is one of those strong, thrilling, brilliant things which are +better worth reading the second time than the first. Entertaining +stories we have in plenty; but this is something more—it is a piece of +literature. At the same time it is an unforgettable picture of the whole +wild, thrilling, desperate, vigorous, primeval life of the Klondike +regions in the years after the gold fever set in. It ranks beside the +best things of its kind in English literature.</p> + +<p>The tale itself has for its hero a superb dog named Buck, a cross +between a St. Bernard and a Scotch shepherd. Buck is stolen from his +home in Southern California, where Judge Miller and his family have +petted him, taken to the Klondike, and put to work drawing sledges. +First he has to be broken in, to learn "the law of club and fang." His +splendid blood comes out through the suffering and abuse, the starvation +and the unremitting toil, the hardship and the fighting and the bitter +cold. He wins his way to the mastership of his team. He becomes the best +sledge dog in Alaska. And all the while there is coming out in him "the +dominant primordial beast."</p> + +<p>But meantime, all through the story, the interest is almost as much in +the human beings who own Buck, or who drive him, or who come in contact +with him or his masters in some way or other, as in the dog himself. He +is merely the central figure in an extraordinarily graphic and +impressive picture of life.</p> + +<p>In none of his previous stories has Mr. <span class="smcap">London</span> achieved so strong a grip +on his theme. In none of them has he allowed his theme so strongly to +grip him. He has increased greatly in his power to tell a story. The +first strong note in the book is the coming out of the dog's good blood +through infinite hardship; the last how he finally obeyed "the call of +the wild" after his last and best friend, Thornton, was killed by the +Indians.</p> + +<p>It has been very greatly praised during its serial run, Mr. <span class="smcap">Mabie</span> +writing in <i>The Outlook</i> of "its power and its unusual theme.... This +remarkable story, full of incident and of striking descriptions of life +and landscape in the far north, contains a deep truth which is embedded +in the narrative and is all the more effective because it is never +obtruded."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>People of the Whirlpool</h1> + +<h4>From the Experience Book of a Commuter's Wife</h4> + +<h5><i>By the Author of<br /> +"The Garden of a Commuter's Wife"</i></h5> + +<h6>With Eight Full-page Illustrations</h6> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + +<p>"The book is in every way a worthy companion to its very popular +predecessor."—<i>The Churchman.</i></p> + +<p>"Altogether the story is fascinating, holding the attention with its +charm of narrative and its pictures of real life."—<i>Grand Rapids +Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"The whole book is delicious, with its wise and kindly humor, its just +perspections of the true values of things, its clever pen pictures of +people and customs, and its healthy optimism for the great world in +general."—<i>Philadelphia Telegraph.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>Anne Carmel</h1> + +<h4>By GWENDOLEN OVERTON</h4> + +<h5>Author of "The Heritage of Unrest"</h5> + +<h6>With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Arthur I. Keller</span></h6> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + +<p>"A novel of uncommon beauty and depth ... in every way an unusual +book."—<i>Louisville Times.</i></p> + +<p>"One of the few very important books of the year."—<i>The Sun</i>, New York.</p> + +<p>"Is so far above the general run of the fiction of to-day as to be +strongly attractive, just because of this contrast, but it is, for +itself, something to move heart and brain to quick action and deep +admiration."—<i>Nashville American.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>The Heart of Rome</h1> + +<h4>By F. MARION CRAWFORD</h4> + +<h5>Author of "Saracinesca," "In the Palace of the King,"<br /> +"Cecilia," "Ave Roma Immortalis," etc.</h5> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + +<p>This striking title is perfectly descriptive of the book. Mr. Crawford, +who has studied Rome in all its phases and has been writing novels and +serious books about it for twenty years, has undertaken to put "the +heart of Rome" into his latest novel. Many authors have undertaken to do +this, but in almost every case the result, however it may have been +praised for various features, has been adjudged in the end +unsatisfactory. The author of "Saracinesca" has here written his +strongest and best work; a novel in which, around an absorbing love +story, are described the manifold elements that go to make up the whole +of the Eternal City as it exists at the present time. It is said by +those who have read the story that it will stand as a picture of Roman +and Italian life without a peer. Mr. Crawford has been living in Italy +most of the year in order to be close to the atmosphere and the life of +the city which he has here depicted.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>The Literary Sense</h1> + +<h4>By E. NESBIT</h4> + +<h5>Author of "The Red House," "The Would-Be-Goods," etc.</h5> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + + +<p>This is a collection of very clever and original short stories, by an +author whose work has attracted much favorable attention here and in +England. The stories deal with lovers' meetings, partings, +misunderstandings or reconciliations. They are little tragedies or +little comedies, and sometimes both. The situations are strong and +ingeniously conceived, and each tale has a turn or twist of its own. +There is throughout a quiet vein of humor and a light touch even where +the situation is strained. In a way the stories are held together, +because most or all of them have a bearing on the idea which is set +forth in the first story—the one that gives the book its title. In that +story the girl loses her lover because, instead of acting simply and +naturally, she tries to act as if she were in a book, to follow her +"literary sense"; in other words, she has something of the same +temperament that distinguished Mr. Barrie's "Sentimental Tommy." This +idea appears and reappears in the other stories, notably in that called +"Miss Eden's Baby," which in its way is a little masterpiece.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>On the We-a Trail</h1> + +<h4>By CAROLINE BROWN</h4> + +<h5>Author of "Knights in Fustian"</h5> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + +<p>This story incidentally portrays the vicissitudes and the lives of the +American pioneers in the "Great Wilderness," as the country west of the +Alleghanies was generally known. The capture and recapture of Fort +Sackville, at Vincennes on the Wabash, are important features among the +central incidents.</p> + +<p>The action begins in mid-wilderness and culminates with the fall of the +fort under the assault of George Rogers Clark. Here the lovers are +reunited after months of separation and adventures. They were first +parted by the savages, who murdered the heroine's entire family save +herself. Driven into the forest, she is taken captive by the Indians. +She makes her escape. Later she is taken to the fort by one of +Hamilton's <i>coureurs de bois</i>, and adopted into the family of the +commandant. The lover meantime wanders from Kaskaskia to Detroit in +pursuit of the tribe which has taken captive his sweetheart, and has +various adventures by the way, many of which take place on the famous +We-a Trail. The action of the story is practically confined to Indiana, +the author's native state; and it forms an important addition to the +increasing number of novels dealing with the early life of that region +of the country.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>The Black Chanter<br /> +and Other Highland Tales</h1> + +<h4>By NIMMO CHRISTIE</h4> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + + +<p>This is a remarkable group of stories by a new writer. They are all +Scotch, and deal with Scotland at a remote period—about the twelfth +century. All the tales except one—"The Wise Woman," which is the best +of all—deal with fighting, and the pipers appear in almost all. They +are stories rather for men than for women, because they deal with a +rough time in a direct way; but they are so clever that women whom +virility attracts will like them. The striking originality of these +stories augurs well for the author's future. The tales consist largely +in legends, traditions, and dramatic incidents connected with the old +life of Scottish clans. Each tale has at the end an unexpected turn or +quick bit of action, and these endings are almost invariably tragic. The +style is well suited to the character of the stories, which are wild, +weird, and queer. They have a true imaginative vein.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>Blount of Breckenhow</h1> + +<h4>By BEULAH MARIE DIX</h4> + +<h5>Author of "The Making of Christopher Ferringham," "Soldier<br /> +Rigdale," and "Hugh Gwyeth"</h5> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + + +<p>Its scene is laid in England in the years 1642-45. It is not a +historical novel, nor a romance, nor an adventure story; it is the story +of a brave man and a noble woman as set forth in the letters of a +prosperous family of Yorkshire gentry. James Blount, the hero, comes by +his father's side of a race of decayed northern gentry, and by his +mother's side from the yeomanry. Entering the King's army as a private +trooper, he wins a commission; but he never wins social recognition from +his brother officers, and he is left much alone. He meets Arundel Carewe +and loves her. The moment when he is about to tell his love he learns +that she is betrothed to his captain, and only friend, Bevill +Rowlestone. Blount keeps silent till near the end of the story. +Meanwhile Arundel is married to Bevill, who is a delightful +seventeenth-century lover, but not wholly satisfactory as a husband.</p> + +<p>Arundel is in garrison with Bevill at a lonely village through the first +dreary winter of their married life. Bevill neglects what he has won, +but Blount in all honor is very tender and thoughtful of her. On the +night when Arundel's child is born, Bevill makes a gross error of +judgment and shifts a body of troops which exposes his whole position. +He entreats Blount, who is his subaltern, to shoulder the blame. For the +sake of Arundel and her child, Blount does so. The matter proves very +serious. Blount is tried by court-martial, publicly degraded, and kicked +out of the army. All trace of him is lost for some eighteen months. +Then, when Arundel and her child are in great danger in their besieged +country house, Blount, who is serving again as a private trooper, +appears and rescues her. The book does not teem with battle and +violence; only twice do the people in the story come within sound of the +guns.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>McTodd</h1> + +<h4>By CUTCLIFFE HYNE</h4> + +<h5>Author of "Captain Kettle" and "Thompson's Progress"</h5> + +<h5>Cloth<span class="space"> </span>12mo<span class="space"> </span>$1.50</h5> + + +<p>Mr. Cutcliffe Hyne's "McTodd" enriches literature with a new and +fascinating figure. The author established himself with his "Captain +Kettle" books, and he has made his popularity considerably more sure +through his latest story, "Thompson's Progress." McTodd, the engineer, +was quite as popular a hero in the last Captain Kettle book as that +fiery little sailor, and Mr. Hyne now makes him the chief character in a +better story. The author's invention never flags, and the new story is +full of incidents and experiences of the liveliest and most fascinating +kind. Besides drawing a better character, the author has made his +experiences more like those of real people, and has constructed a story +which is well knit, forceful, and absorbing. He has outgrown the +crudities observable in his previous books, and it is expected that his +new creation will give him a much better place in literature and will +greatly strengthen his hold on the popular approval.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<h2>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h2> + +<h4>66 Fifth Avenue<span class="space"> </span>New York</h4> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="tnote"> + +<h3>Transcriber's Note</h3> + +<p>A number of instances of 'Dic" being misspelt as 'Dick' have been corrected.<br /> +Printer's errors have been corrected, all other inconsistencies are as in the original.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Forest Hearth: A Romance of Indiana +in the Thirties, by Charles Major + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOREST HEARTH: A ROMANCE *** + +***** This file should be named 29486-h.htm or 29486-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/8/29486/ + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Forest Hearth: A Romance of Indiana in the Thirties + +Author: Charles Major + +Release Date: July 22, 2009 [EBook #29486] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOREST HEARTH: A ROMANCE *** + + + + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + + A FOREST HEARTH + + [Illustration: Publishers symbol] + + [Illustration: "HE PRODUCED A SMALL GOLD WATCH WITH THE WORD 'RITA' + ENGRAVED UPON THE CASE."] + + + + + A Forest Hearth + + A ROMANCE OF INDIANA IN THE THIRTIES + + BY + + CHARLES MAJOR + + AUTHOR OF "DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL," "THE BEARS OF BLUE RIVER," + "WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER," ETC. + + + _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CLYDE O. DELAND_ + + New York + + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. + + 1903 + + _All rights reserved_ + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1903, + + BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. + + Set up, electrotyped, and published October, 1903. + + Norwood Press + + J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. + + Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + + +CHAPTER + + + PAGE + + I. ON THE HEART OF THE HEARTH 11 + + II. THE BACHELOR HEART 27 + + III. THE SYCAMORE DIVAN 45 + + IV. THE DEBUTANTE 61 + + V. UNDER THE ELM CANOPY 87 + + VI. THE FIGHT BY THE RIVER SIDE 107 + + VII. THE TRIAL 133 + + VIII. A CHRISTMAS HEARTH LOG 153 + + IX. DIC LENDS MONEY GRATIS 179 + + X. THE TOURNAMENT 203 + + XI. A KISS AND A DUEL 225 + + XII. THE LOVE POWDER 259 + + XIII. THE DIMPLER 281 + + XIV. WISE MISS TOUSY 303 + + XV. THE CHRISTMAS GIFT 329 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + + "He produced a small gold watch with the word 'Rita' + engraved upon the case" _Frontispiece_ + + "She changed it many times" 31 + + "She flung at the worthy shepherd the opprobrious words, 'You + fool'" 81 + + "'I've come to get my kiss,' said Doug" 121 + + "Covering her face with her hands, she began to weep" 191 + + "'Kill him, Dic; kill him as you would a wolf'" 255 + + "Miss Tousy softly kissed her and said, ... 'There, don't cry, + sweet one'" 315 + + "'Here,' replied the girl" 349 + + + + +ON THE HEART OF THE HEARTH + + + + +A Forest Hearth + +CHAPTER I + +ON THE HEART OF THE HEARTH + + +A strenuous sense of justice is the most disturbing of all virtues, and +those persons in whom it predominates are usually as disagreeable as +they are good. Any one who assumes the high plane of "justice to all, +and confusion to sinners," may easily gain a reputation for goodness +simply by doing nothing bad. Look wise and heavenward, frown severely +but regretfully upon others' faults, and the world will whisper, "Ah, +how good he is!" And you will be good--as the sinless, prickly pear. If +the virtues of omission constitute saintship, and from a study of the +calendar one might so conclude, seek your corona by the way of justice. +For myself, I would rather be a layman with a few active virtues and a +small sin or two, than a sternly just saint without a fault. Breed +virtue in others by giving them something to forgive. Conceive, if you +can, the unutterable horror of life in this world without a few blessed +human faults. He who sins not at all, cannot easily find reason to +forgive; and to forgive those who trespass against us, is one of the +sweetest benedictions of life. I have known many persons who built their +moral structure upon the single rock of justice; but they all bred +wretchedness among those who loved them, and made life harder because +they did not die young. + +One woman of that sort, I knew,--Mrs. Margarita Bays. To her face, or in +the presence of those who might repeat my words, I of course called her +"Mrs. Bays"; but when I felt safe in so doing, I called her the "Chief +Justice"--a title conferred by my friend, Billy Little. Later happenings +in her life caused Little to christen her "my Lady Jeffreys," a +sobriquet bestowed upon her because of the manner in which she treated +her daughter, whose name was also Margarita. + +The daughter, because she was as sweet as the wild rose, and as gentle +as the soft spring sun, received from her friends the affectionate +diminutive of Rita. And so I shall name her in this history. + +Had not Rita been so gentle, yielding, and submissive, or had her +father, Tom Bays,--husband to the Chief Justice,--been more combative +and less amenable to the corroding influences of henpeck, I doubt if +Madam Bays would ever have attained a dignity beyond that of "Associate +Justice." That strong sense of domineering virtue which belongs to the +truly just must be fed, and it waxes fat on an easy-going husband and a +loving, tender daughter. + +In the Bays home, the mother's righteous sense of justice and duty, +which applied itself relentlessly upon husband and daughter, became the +weakest sort of indulgence when dealing with the only son and heir. +Without being vicious, Tom, Jr., was what the negroes called "jes' clean +triflin'," and dominated his mother with an inherited club of inborn +selfishness. Before Tom's selfishness, Justice threw away her scales and +became maudlin sentiment. + +I have been intimately acquainted with the Bays family ever since they +came to Blue River settlement from North Carolina, and I am going to +tell you the story of the sweetest, gentlest nature God has ever given +me to know--Rita Bays. I warn you there will be no heroics in this +history, no palaces, no grand people--nothing but human nature, the +forests, and a few very simple country folk indeed. + +Rita was a babe in arms when her father, her mother, and her +six-year-old brother Tom moved from North Carolina in two great +"schooner" wagons, and in the year '20 or '21 settled upon Blue River, +near the centre of a wilderness that had just been christened "Indiana." + +The father of Tom Bays had been a North Carolina planter of considerable +wealth and culture; but when the old gentleman died there were eight +sons and two daughters among whom his estate was to be divided, and some +of them had to choose between moving west and facing the terrors of +battle with nature in the wilderness, and remaining in North Carolina to +become "poor white trash." Tom Bays, Sr., had married Margarita, +daughter of a pompous North Carolinian, Judge Anselm Fisher. Whether he +was a real judge, or simply a "Kentucky judge," I cannot say; but he was +a man of good standing, and his daughter was not the woman to endure the +loss of caste at home. If compelled to step down from the social +position into which she had been born, the step must be taken among +strangers, that part at least of her humiliation might be avoided. + +With a heart full of sorrow and determination, Madam Bays, who even then +had begun to manifest rare genius for leadership, loaded two "schooners" +with her household goods, her husband, her son, and her daughter, and +started northwest with the laudable purpose of losing herself in the +wilderness. They carried with them their inheritance, a small bag of gold, +and with it they purchased from the government a quarter-section--one +hundred and sixty acres--of land, at five shillings per acre. The land +on Blue was as rich and fertile as any the world could furnish; but for +miles upon miles it was covered with black forests, almost impenetrable to +man, and was infested by wild beasts and Indians. Here madam and her +husband began their long battle with the hardest of foes--nature; and +that battle, the terrors of which no one can know who has not fought it, +doubtless did much to harden the small portion of human tenderness with +which God had originally endowed her. They built their log-cabin on the +east bank of Blue River, one mile north of the town of the same name. +The river was spoken of simply as Blue. + +Artistic beauty is not usually considered an attribute of log-cabins; +but I can testify to the beauty of many that stood upon the banks of +Blue,--among them the house of Bays. The main building consisted of two +ground-floor rooms, each with a front door and a half-story room above. +A clapboard-covered porch extended across the entire front of the house, +which faced westward toward Blue. Back of the main building was a +one-story kitchen, and adjoining each ground-floor room was a huge +chimney, built of small logs four to six inches in diameter. These +chimneys, thickly plastered on the inside with clay, were built with a +large opening at the top, and widened downward to the fireplace, which +was eight or ten feet square, and nearly as high as the low ceiling of +the room. The purpose of these generous dimensions was to prevent the +wooden chimney from burning. The fire, while the chimney was new, was +built in the centre of the enormous hearth that the flames might not +touch the walls, but after a time the heat burnt the clay to the +hardness of brick, and the fire was then built against the back wall. By +pointing up the cracks, and adding a coat of clay now and then, the +walls soon became entirely fireproof, and a fire might safely be kindled +that would defy Boreas in his bitterest zero mood. An open wood fire is +always cheering; so our humble folk of the wilderness, having little +else to cheer them during the long winter evenings, were mindful to be +prodigal in the matter of fuel, and often burned a cord of wood between +candle-light and bedtime on one of their enormous hearths. A cord of +wood is better than a play for cheerfulness, and a six-foot back-log +will make more mirth than Dan Rice himself ever created. Economy did not +enter into the question, for wood was nature's chief weapon against her +enemies, the settlers; and the question was not how to save, but how to +burn it. + +To this place Rita first opened the eyes of her mind. The girl's +earliest memories were of the cozy log-cabin upon the banks of the +limpid, gurgling creek. Green in her memory, in each sense of the word, +was the soft blue-grass lawn, that sloped gently a hundred yards from +the cabin, built upon a little rise in the bottom land, down to the +water's edge. Often when she was a child, and I a man well toward middle +life, did I play with the enchanting little elf upon the blue-grass +lawn, and drink the waters of perennial youth at the fountain of her +sweet babyhood. Vividly I remember the white-skinned sycamores, the +gracefully drooping elms, and the sweet-scented honey-locust that grew +about the cabin and embowered it in leafy glory. Even at this long +distance of time, when June is abroad, if I catch the odor of locust +blossoms, my mind and heart travel back on the wings of a moment, and I +hear the buzzing of the wild bees, the song of the meadow-lark, the +whistle of bob-white, and the gurgling of the creek--all blended into +one sweet refrain like the mingling tones of a perfect orchestra by the +soft-voiced babble of my wee girl-baby friend. I close my eyes, and see +the house amid the hollyhocks and trees, a thin line of blue smoke +curling lazily from the kitchen chimney and floating away over the deep, +black forest to the north and east. I see the maples languidly turning +the white side of their leaves to catch the south wind's balmy breath, +and I see by my side a fate-charged, tiny tot, dabbling in the water, +mocking the songs of the birds, and ever turning her face, with its +great brown wistful eyes, to catch the breath of destiny and to hear the +sad dread hum of the future. But my old chum Billy Little was the +child's especial friend. + +In those good times there was another child, a boy, Diccon Bright, who +often came down from his cabin home a mile up river to play with Rita on +the blue-grass lawn in summer, or to sit with her on the hearth log in +winter. In cold weather the hearth log was kept on one side of the +hearth, well within the fireplace itself, ready for use when needed. It +gloried in three names, all of which were redolent of home. It was +called the "hearth log" because it was kept upon the hearth; the +"waiting log" because it was waiting to take the place of the log that +was burning, and the "ciphering log" because the children sat upon it in +the evening firelight to do their "ciphering"--a general term used to +designate any sort of preparation for the morrow's lesson. In those +times arithmetic was the chief study, and from it the acquisition of all +branches of knowledge took the name of ciphering. + +Diccon--where on earth his parents got the name, I cannot tell--was four +or five years older than Rita. He was a manly boy, and when my little +friend could hardly lisp his name she would run to him with the unerring +instinct of childhood and nestle in his arms or cling to his helpful +finger. The little fellow was so sturdy, strong, and brave, and his dark +gray eyes were so steadfast and true, that she feared no evil from him, +though ordinarily she was a timid child. She would sit by him on the +ciphering log during the long winter evenings, and the boy, the girl, +and the fire were the best of friends, and had glorious times together +on the heart of the cheery hearth. The north wind might blow, the snow +might snow, and the cold might freeze, Rita, Dic, and the fire cared not +a straw. + +"I want no better mirror, my little sweetheart," he would say, "than +your brown eyes; no prettier color than your rosy cheeks and glossy +black hair, and no truer friend than your loving little heart." And the +fire crackled its entire approval. + +"Very well, Dic," she would reply, laughing with delight, "if you really +want them, you may have them; they are all yours." And the fire smiled +rosily, beaming its benediction. + +"But what will your father and mother say and Tom?" asked Dic. + +"We'll not tell them," replied this tiny piece of Eve; and the fire +almost choked itself with spluttering laughter. So, with the fire as a +witness, the compact was made and remade many times, until she thought +she belonged to Dic and gloried in her little heart because of it. + +Diccon and Rita's brother, Tom, even during their early childhood, when +they were hardly half so tall as the guns they carried, were companion +knights in the great wars waged by the settlers against the wild beasts +of the forests, and many a bear, wolf, wildcat, and deer fell before the +prowess of small Sir Diccon la Valorous and little Sir Thomas de +Triflin'. Out of their slaughter grew friendship, and for many years Sir +Thomas was a frequent guest upon the ciphering log of Sir Diccon, and +Sir Diccon spent many winter evenings on the hearth at Castle Bays. + +As the long years of childhood passed, Dic began to visit the Bays home +more frequently than Tom visited the Brights'. I do not know whether +this change was owing to the increasing age of the boys, or--but Rita +was growing older and prettier every day, and you know that may have had +something to do with Dic's visits. + +Dic had another boy friend--an old boy, of thirty-five or more--whose +name was William Little. He was known generally as Billy Little, and it +pleased the little fellow to be so called, "Because," said he, "persons +give the diminutive to fools and those whom they love; and I know I am +not a fool." The sweetest words in the German language are their home +diminutives. It is difficult to love a man whom one _must_ call Thomas. +Tom, Jack, and Billy are the chaps who come near to us. + +Billy was an old bachelor and an Englishman. His family had intended him +for the church, and he was educated at Trinity with that end in view. +Although not an irreligious man, he had views on religion that were far +from orthodox. + +"I found it impossible," he once remarked, "to induce the church to +change its views, and equally impossible to change my own; so the church +and I, each being unreasonably stubborn, agreed to disagree, and I threw +over the whole affair, quarrelled with my family, was in turn thrown +over by them, and here I am, in the wilderness, very much pleased." + +He lived in the little town of Blue River, and was justice of the peace, +postmaster, storekeeper, and occasionally school-teacher. He was small +in stature, with a tendency to become rotund as he grew older. He took +pride in his dress and was as cleanly as an Englishman. He was +reasonably willing to do the duty that confronted him, and loved but +three forms of recreation,--to be with his two most intimate friends, +Rita and Dic, to wander in the trackless forests, and to play upon his +piano. His piano was his sweetheart, and often in the warm summer +evenings, when his neighbors were in bed, would the strains of his music +lull them to sleep, and float out into the surrounding forests, +awakening the whippoorwill to heart-rending cries of anguish that would +give a man the "blues" for a month. I believe many ignorant persons +thought that Billy was not exactly "right in the top," as they put it, +because he would often wander through the forests, night or day, singing +to himself, talking to the trees and birds, and clasping to his soul +fair nature in her virgin strength and sweetness. He often communed +with himself after this fashion: "I am a fortunate man in the things I +love, for I have them to my heart's content. Rita and Dic are children. +I give them knowledge. They give me youth. I touch my piano. It fills my +soul with peace. If it gives me a discordant note, the fault is mine. I +go to the forest, and sweet Nature takes me in her arms and lulls me to +ecstasy." + +Billy Little and I had been college chums, and had emigrated on the same +ship. I studied law, entered the practice, married, and have a family. +While my wife and family did not mar the friendship between Little and +myself, it prevented frequency of intercourse, for a wife and family are +great absorbents. However, he and I remained friends, and from him I +have most of the facts constituting this story. + +This friend of Dic's was a great help to the boy intellectually, and at +fourteen or fifteen years of age, when other boys considered their +education complete if they could spell phthisis and Constantinople, our +hero was reading Virgil and Shakespeare, and was learning to think for +himself. The knowledge obtained from Billy Little the boy tried to +impart to Rita. Tom held learning and books to be effeminate and +wasteful of time; but Rita drank in Dic's teaching, with now and then a +helpful draught from Billy Little, and the result soon began to show +upon the girl. + +Thus it was that Dic often went to see Tom, but talked to Tom's sister. +Many an evening, long after Tom had unceremoniously climbed the rude +stairway to bed, would the brown-eyed maid, with her quaint, wistful +touch of womanhood, sit beside Dic on the ciphering log inside the +fireplace, listening to him read from one of Billy Little's books, +watching him trace continents, rivers, and mountains on a map, or +helping him to cipher a complicated problem in arithmetic. The girl by +no means understood all that Dic read, but she tried, and even though +she failed, she would clasp her hands and say, "Isn't it grand, Dic?" +And it was grand to her because Dic read it. + +Lamps were unknown to our simple folk, so the light of the fireplace was +all they had to read by. It was, therefore, no uncommon sight in those +early cabin homes to see the whole family sitting upon the broad hearth, +shading their eyes with their hands, while some one--frequently the +local school-teacher--sat upon the hearth log and read by the fire that +furnished both light and heat. This reading was frequently Dic's task in +the Bays home. + +One who has seen a large family thus gathered upon the spacious hearth +will easily understand the love for it that ages ago sprang up in the +hearts of men and crickets. At no place in all the earth, and at no time +in all its history, has the hearth done more in moulding human character +than it did in the wilderness on the north side of the lower Ohio when +the men who felled the forest and conquered nature offered their humble +devotions on its homely altar. + +So it came to pass that Dic and Rita grew up together on the heart of +the hearth; and what wonder that their own hearts were welded by the +warmth and light of its cheery god. Thus the boy grew to manhood and the +girl to maidenhood, then to young womanhood, at which time, of course, +her troubles began. + +Chief among the earlier troubles of our little maid was a growing +tenderness for Dic. Of that trouble she was not for many months aware. +She was unable to distinguish between the affection she had always given +him and the warming tenderness she was beginning to feel, save in her +disinclination to make it manifest. When with him she was under a +constraint as inexplicable to her as it was annoying. It brought grief +to her tender heart, since it led her into little acts of rudeness or +neglect, which in turn always led to tears. She often blamed Dic for the +altered condition, though it was all owing to the change in herself. +There was no change in him. He sought the girl's society as frankly as +when they were children, though at the time of which I write he had made +no effort to "keep company" with her. She, at fifteen, believing herself +to be a young lady, really wished for the advances she feared. Sukey +Yates, who was only fourteen, had "company" every Sunday evening, and +went to all the social frolics for miles around. Polly Kaster, not +sixteen, was soon to be married to Bantam Rhodes. Many young men had +looked longingly upon Rita, who was the most beautiful girl on Blue; but +the Chief Justice, with her daughter's hearty approval, drove all +suitors away. The girl was wholly satisfied with Dic, who was "less than +kin," but very much "more than kind." He came to see the family, herself +included; but when he went out to social functions, church socials, +corn-huskings, and dances he took Sukey Yates, or some other girl, and +upon such evenings our own little maiden went to bed dissatisfied with +the world at large, and herself in particular. Of course, she would not +have gone to dances, even with Dic. She had regard for the salvation of +her soul, and the Chief Justice, in whom the girl had unquestioning +faith, held dancing to be the devil's chief instrument of damnation. +Even the church socials were not suitable for young girls, as you will +agree if you read farther; and Mrs. Margarita, with a sense of propriety +inherited from better days, tried to hold her daughter aloof from the +country society, which entertained honest but questionable views on many +subjects. + +Dic paid his informal visit to the Bays household in the evenings, and +at the time of the girl's growing inclination she would gaze longingly +up the river watching for him; while the sun, regretful to leave the +land, wherein her hero dwelt, sank slowly westward to shine upon those +poor waste places that knew no Diccon. When she would see him coming +she would run away for fear of herself, and seek her room in the loft, +where she would scrub her face and hands in a hopeless effort to remove +the sun-brown. Then she would scan her face in a mirror, for which Dic +had paid two beautiful bearskins, hoping to convince herself that she +was not altogether hideous. + +"If I could only be half as pretty as Sukey Yates," she often thought, +little dreaming that Sukey, although a very pretty girl, was plain +compared with her own winsome self. + +After the scrubbing she would take from a little box the solitary piece +of grandeur she possessed,--a ribbon of fiery red,--and with this around +her neck or woven through the waving floods of her black hair, she felt +she was bedecked like a veritable queen of hearts. But the ribbon could +not remove all doubts of herself, and with tears ready to start from her +eyes she would stamp her foot and cry out: "I hate myself. I am an ugly +fool." Then she would slowly climb down the rude stairway, and, as we +humble folk would say, "take out her spite" against herself on poor Dic. +She was not rude to him, but, despite her inclination, she failed to +repay his friendliness in kind as of yore. + +Tom took great pleasure in teasing her, and chuckled with delight when +his indulgent mother would tell her visiting friends that he was a great +tease. + +One evening when Rita had encountered more trouble than usual with the +sun-brown, and was more than ever before convinced that she was a fright +and a fool, she went downstairs, wearing her ribbon, to greet Dic, who +was sitting on the porch with father, mother, and Tom. When she emerged +from the front door, Tom, the teaser, said:-- + +"Oh, just look at her! She's put on her ribbon for Dic." Then, turning +to Dic, "She run to her room and spruced up when she saw you coming." + +Dic laughed because it pleased him to think, at least to hope, that Tom +had spoken the truth. Poor Rita in the midst of her confusion +misunderstood Dic's laughter; and, smarting from the truth of Tom's +words, quickly retorted:-- + +"You're a fool to say such a thing, and if--if--if--Mr.--Mr. Bright +believes it, he is as great a fool as you." + +"Mr. Bright!" cried de Triflin'. "My, but she's getting stylish!" + +Rita looked at Dic after she spoke, and the pain he felt was so easily +discernible on his face that she would have given anything, even the +ribbon, to have had her words back, or to have been able to cry out, "I +didn't mean it, Dic; I didn't mean it." + +But the words she had spoken would not come back, and those she wanted +to speak would not come forward, so tears came instead, and she ran to +her loft, to do penance in sobs greatly disproportionate to her sin. + +Soon Dic left, and as he started up the forest path she tried by gazing +at him from her window to make him know the remorse she felt. She wanted +to call to him, but she dared not; then she thought to escape unseen +from the house and run after him. But darkness was rapidly falling, and +she feared the black, terrible forest. + +We talk a great deal about the real things of after life; but the real +things of life, the keen joys and the keenest pains, come to a man +before his first vote, and to a woman before the days of her mature +womanhood. + + + + +THE BACHELOR HEART + +CHAPTER II + +THE BACHELOR HEART + + +Rita's first great pain kept her sleepless through many hours. She +resolved that when Dic should come again she would throw off the +restraint that so hurt and provoked her, and would show him, at whatever +cost, that she had not intended her hard words for him. + +The next day seemed an age. She sought all kinds of work to make the +time pass quickly. Churning, usually irksome, was a luxury. She swept +every nook and corner of the house, and longed to sweep the whole farm. + +That evening she did not wait till Dic was in sight to put on her +ribbon. She changed it many times from her throat to her hair and back +again, long before the sun had even thought of going down. + +Her new attitude toward Dic had at least one good effect: it took from +her the irritation she had so often felt against herself. Losing part of +her self-consciousness in the whirl of a new, strong motive, wrought a +great change, not only in her appearance, but also in her way of looking +at things--herself included. She was almost satisfied with the image her +mirror reflected. She might well have been entirely satisfied. There was +neither guile nor vanity in the girl's heart, nor a trace of deceit in +her face; only gentleness, truth, and beauty. She had not hitherto given +much thought to her face; but with the change in her way of seeing Dic, +her eyes were opened to the value of personal beauty. Then she began to +wonder. Regret for her hard words to Dic deepened her longing for +beauty, in the hope that she might be admired by him and more easily +forgiven. Billy Little, who had seen much of the world, once said that +there was a gentleness and beauty about Rita at this time which he +believed no other woman ever possessed. She was child and woman then, +and that combination is hard to beat, even in a plain girl. Poor old +Billy Little! He was more than thirty years her senior, but I believe +there is no period in the life of a bachelor, however case-hardened he +may be, when his heart is entirely safe from the enemy. That evening +Rita sat on the porch watching for Dic. But the sun and her heart went +down, and Dic did not come. + +The plaintive rain cry of a whippoorwill from the branches of a dead +tree across the river, and the whispering "peep, peep, peep," of the +sleepy robins in the foliage near the house, helped to deepen her +feeling of disappointment, and she was thoroughly miserable. She tried +to peer through the gloaming, and feared her father and mother would +mark her troubled eagerness and guess its cause. But her dread of their +comments was neutralized by the fear that Dic would not come. + +Opportunity is the touchstone of fate, save with women. With them it is +fate itself. Had Dic appeared late that evening, there would have been a +demonstration on Rita's part, regardless of who might have seen, and the +young man would have discovered an interesting truth. Rita, deeply +troubled, discovered it for herself, and thought surely it was plain +enough for every one else to see. + +When darkness had fallen, she became reckless of concealment, and walked +a short way up the river in the hope of meeting Dic. The hooting of an +owl frightened her, but she did not retreat till she heard the howling +of a wolf. Then she ran home at full speed and went to bed full of the +most healthful suffering a heart can know--that which it feels because +of the pain it has given another. + +[Illustration: "SHE CHANGED IT MANY TIMES."] + +Thus Dic missed both opportunity and demonstration. The next evening he +missed another opportunity, and by the morning of the third day our +little girl, blushing at the thought, determined to write to him and ask +his forgiveness. There was one serious obstacle to writing: she had +neither paper nor ink, nor money with which to buy them. Hitherto she +had found little use for money, but now the need was urgent. Tom always +had money, and she thought of begging a few pennies from him. No! Tom +would laugh, and refuse. If she should ask her mother, a string of +questions would ensue, with "No" for a snapper. Her father would +probably give her money, if she asked for it; but her mother would ask +questions later. She would ride to town, one mile south on Blue, and ask +credit of her old friend, Billy Little, to the extent of a sheet of +paper and a small pot of ink. For a pen she would catch a goose, pluck a +quill, and ask Billy to cut it. Billy could cut the best pen of any one +on Blue. + +Dinner over, she caught the goose after an exciting chase, plucked the +quill, saddled her horse, and was slipping away from the back yard when +her mother's voice halted her. + +"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Margarita. + +"I'm--I'm--going--going to see Sukey Yates," answered the girl. + +She had not intended going to Sukey's, but after her mother's peremptory +demand for information, she formed the _ex post facto_ resolution to do +so, that her answer might not be a lie. + +"Now, what on earth do you want there?" asked the Chief Justice. + +"I--I only want to sit awhile with her," answered Rita. "May I go? The +work is all done." + +"No, you shan't go," responded the kind old lady. You see, one of the +maxims of this class of good persons is to avoid as many small +pleasures as possible--in others. That they apply the rule to +themselves, doesn't help to make it endurable. + +Rita--with whom to hear was to obey--sprang from her horse; but just +then her father came upon the scene. His soft words and soothing +suggestions mollified Justice, and Rita started forth upon her visit to +Sukey. She had told her mother she was going to see Sukey Yates; and +when she thought upon the situation, she became convinced that her _ex +post facto_ resolution, even though honestly acted upon, would not avail +her in avoiding a lie, unless it were carried out to the letter and in +the spirit. There was not a lie in this honest girl--not a fractional +part of a lie--from her toes to her head. She went straight to see +Sukey, and did not go to town, though she might easily have done so. She +did not fear discovery. She feared the act of secret disobedience, and +above all she dreaded the lie. A strong motive might induce her to +disobey, but the disobedience in that case would be open. She would go +to Sukey's to-day. To-morrow she would go to town in open rebellion, if +need be. The thought of rebellion caused her to tremble; but let the +powers at home also tremble. Like many of us, she was brave for +to-morrow's battle, since to-morrow never comes. + +Rita was not in the humor to listen to Sukey's good-natured prattle, so +her visit was brief, and she soon rode home, her heart full of trouble +and rebellion. But the reward for virtue, which frequently fails to make +its appearance, waited upon our heroine. When she was about to dismount +at the home gate, her father called to her:-- + +"While you're on your horse, Rita, you might ride to town and ask Billy +Little if there's a letter. The mail came in three days ago." + +The monster, Rebellion, at once disappeared, and the girl, +conscience-smitten, resolved never, never to entertain him again. She +rode down the river path through the forest, happy after many days of +wretchedness. + +Billy Little's store building consisted of two log-built rooms. The long +front room was occupied by the store and post-office. The back room, as +Billy said, was occupied by his piano and himself. When he saw Rita, +clothed in dainty calico and smiles, gallop up to the hitching-post, his +heart was filled with joy, his face beamed with pleasure, and his scalp +was suffused by a rosy hue. Billy's smooth-shaven face was pale, the +blood never mounting to his cheeks, so he made amends as best he could +and blushed with the top of his head. + +"Good evening to you, Rita," he said, as he lifted her to the ground and +hitched her horse. "I am delighted to see you. You come like the rosy +sun after a rainy day." + +"The sun doesn't come after the day, Billy Little," retorted the +laughing girl. "You probably mean the pale moon, or a poor dim little +star." + +"I know what I mean," answered the little old fellow in tones of mock +indignation, "and I'll not allow a chit of a girl to correct my +astronomy. I'm your schoolmaster, and if I say the sun comes after the +day, why after the day it comes. Now, there!" he continued, as they +entered the store. "Turn your face to the wall and do penance. Such +insolence!" + +The girl faced the wall, and after a moment she looked laughingly over +her shoulder at him. "If you'll let me turn around, I'll admit that the +sun comes at midnight, if you say it does, Billy Little." + +"Midnight it is," said Billy, sternly. "Take your seat." + +She ran laughing to Billy, and clasping his arm affectionately, said +with a touch of seriousness:-- + +"It comes whenever you say it does, Billy Little. I'd believe you before +I'd believe myself." + +Poor old bachelor heart! Look to your breastworks; the enemy is at hand. + +"Now I've noticed," said cynical Billy, "that whenever the feminine +heart wants something, it grows tender. What do you want?" + +"I want a letter, Billy Little. Father sent me down to fetch it, if +there is one." + +"Yes, there's one here," he answered, going back of the glass-covered +pigeon-holes. "There's one here from Indianapolis. It's from your Uncle +Jim Fisher. I suppose he's after your father again to sell his farm and +invest the proceeds in the Indianapolis store. Precious fool he'll be if +he does." + +"Indeed, he would not be a fool," retorted the girl. "I'm just wild for +father to move to Indianapolis. I don't want to grow up in the country +like a ragweed or mullein stalk, and I--" ("Like a sweetbrier or a +golden-rod," interrupted Billy) "and I don't want you to advise him not +to go," she continued, unmindful of Billy's flowers of poesy. + +"Well, here's the letter. Do you want anything else?" + +"N-o-o-no." + +"Then, for once, I've found a disinterested female in a coaxing mood," +replied this modern Diogenes. He came from behind the counter, +pretending to believe her, and started toward the door. + +"How's Dic?" he asked. "I haven't seen him for a fortnight. I've been +wondering what has become of him." The girl's face turned red--painfully +so to Billy--as she replied:-- + +"I--I haven't seen him either for--for a very long time--three days." +She stopped talking and Billy remained silent. After a long pause she +spoke up briskly, as if she had just remembered something. + +"Oh, I almost forgot--there _is_ something I want, and--and after all, +you're right. I want--I want--won't you--will you--I say, Billy Little, +won't you let me have a sheet of writing paper and a pot of ink, and +won't you cut this pen for me?" + +Billy took the quill and turned to go behind the counter. The girl was +dancing nervously on her toes. "But say, Billy Little, I can't pay you +for them now. Will--will--you trust me?" + +Billy did not reply, but went to the letter-paper box. + +"You had better take more than one sheet, Rita," he said softly. "If +you're going to write a love-letter to Dic, you will be sure to spoil +the first sheet, perhaps the second and third." + +Billy's head blushed vividly after he had spoken, for his remark was a +prying one. The girl had no thought of writing a love-letter, and she +resented the insinuation. She was annoyed because she had betrayed her +purpose in buying the paper. But she loved Billy Little too dearly to +show her resentment, and remained silent. The girl, Billy, and Dic +differing as much as it is possible for three persons to differ, save in +their common love for books and truth, had been friends ever since her +babyhood, and Billy was the only person to whom she could easily lay +bare her heart. Upon second thought she concluded to tell him her +trouble. + +"It was this way, Billy Little," she began, and after stumbling over +many words, she made a good start, and the little story of her troubles +fell from her lips like crystal water from a babbling spring. + +After her story was finished--and she found great relief in the +telling--Billy said:-- + +"Of course I'll trust you. I'd trust you for the whole store if you +wanted to buy it. I'd trust you with my soul," he added after a pause. +"There's not a false drop of blood in your veins." + +"Ah, Billy Little," she answered, as she took his hand caressingly for +an instant, and her eyes, with their wonderful capacity for expression, +said the rest. + +"So, you see, I _do_ want to write a letter to Dic," she said, dropping +his hand; "but it is not to be a love-letter. I could not write one if I +wished. I was very wicked. Oh, Billy Little, I honestly think, at times, +I'm the worst girl that ever lived. Something terrible will happen to me +for my wickedness, I'm sure. Mother says it will." + +"Yes, something terrible--terrible, I'm sure," returned Billy, musingly. + +"And I want to apologize to him," she continued, "and tell him I didn't +mean it. Isn't it right that I should?" + +"Oh, yes--yes," answered Billy, starting out of his revery. "Of course, +yes--Maxwelton's braes are bonny--um--um--um--um--um--yes, oh yes." + +When vexed, pleased, or puzzled, Billy was apt to hum the opening line +of "Annie Laurie," though the first four words were all that received +the honor of distinct articulation. The remainder of the stanza he +allowed to die away under his breath. Rita was of course familiar with +the habit, but this time she could not tell which motive had prompted +the musical outburst. Billy himself couldn't have told, but perhaps the +bachelor heart was at the bottom of it. + +"Thank you, Billy Little, for the paper," said Rita. "I'll pay you with +the first money I get." Billy silently helped her to mount her horse. +She smiled, "Good-by," and he walked slowly back to the store muttering +to himself: "Billy Little, Billy Little, your breastworks are weak, and +you are a--Maxwelton's braes--um--um--um--um.--Ah, good evening, Mrs. +Carson. Something I can do for you this evening? Sugar? Ah, yes, plenty. +Best in town. Best shipment I ever had," and Billy was once more a +merchant. + +When Rita reached home supper was ready, and after the supper work was +finished it was too dark to write; so the letter was postponed a day, +and she took her place on the porch, hoping that Dic would come and that +the letter might be postponed indefinitely. But he did not come. Next +morning churning had again become loathsome, sweeping was hard work, and +dinner was a barbarous institution. Rita had no appetite, and to +sympathize with those who are hungry one must be hungry. + +Innumerable very long minutes had woven themselves into mammoth hours +when Rita, having no table in her room, found herself lying on the floor +writing her momentous letter. It was not to be a love-letter; simply an +appeal for forgiveness to a friend whom she had wantonly injured. + +"Dear old Billy Little," she said to herself, when she opened the +package. "What pretty paper--and he has given me six sheets in place of +one--and a little pot of ink--and a sand-box! I wonder if the quill is a +good one! Ah, two--three quills! Dear old Billy Little! Here is enough +paper to last me for years." In that respect she was mistaken. She +experienced difficulty with effort number one, but finished the letter +and read it aloud; found it wholly unsatisfactory, and destroyed it. She +used greater care with the next, but upon reading it over she found she +had said too much of what she wished to leave unsaid, and too little of +what she wanted to say. She destroyed number two with great haste and +some irritation, for it was almost a love-letter. The same fate befell +numbers three, four, and five. After all, Billy's liberal supply of +paper would not last for years. If it proved sufficient for one day, she +would be satisfied. Number six, right or wrong, must go to Dic, so she +wrote simply and briefly what was in her heart. + + "DEAR FRIEND DIC: My words were not intended for you. I was angry + with Tom, as I had good reason to be, though he spoke the truth. I + did put on my ribbon because I saw you coming, and I have cried + every night since then because of what I said to you, and because + you do not come to let me tell you how sorry I am. You should have + given me a chance. I would have given you one. RITA." + +It was a sweet, straightforward letter, half-womanly, half-childish, and +she had no cause to be ashamed of it; but she feared it was bold, and +tears came to her eyes when she read it, because there were no more +sheets of paper, and modest or bold it must go to Dic. + +Having written the letter, she had no means of sending it; but she had +entered upon the venture, and was determined to carry it through. Mrs. +Bays and her husband had driven to town, and there was no need for _ex +post facto_ resolutions. When the letter had been properly directed and +duly sealed, the girl saddled her horse and started away on another +journey to Sukey Yates. This time, however, she went somewhat out of her +way, riding up the river path through the forest to Dic Bright's home. +When she reached the barnyard gate Dic was hitching the horses to the +"big wagon." He came at Rita's call, overjoyed at the sight of her. He +knew she had come to ask forgiveness. For many months past he had tried +not to see that she was unkind to him, but her words on the porch had +convinced him, and he saw that her coldness had been intentional. Of +course he did not know the cause of her altered demeanor, and had +regretfully put it down to an altered sentiment on her part. But when he +saw her at the barnyard gate, he was again in the dark as to her motive. + +When Dic came up to her she handed him the letter over the gate, +saying: "Read it alone. Let no one see it." + +Dic had only time to say, "Thank you," when the girl struck her horse +and galloped down the forest path, bound for Sukey. When she had passed +out of sight among the trees, Dic went down the river to a secluded +spot, known as "The Stepoff," where he could read the letter without +fear of detection. He had long suspected that his love for the girl was +not altogether brotherly, and his recent trouble with her had +crystallized that suspicion into certainty. But he saw nothing back of +the letter but friendship and contrition. The girl's love was so great a +treasure that he dared not even hope for it, and was more than satisfied +with the Platonic affection so plainly set forth in her epistle. We who +have looked into Rita's heart know of a thing or two that does not +resemble Platonism; but the girl herself did not fully know what she +felt, and Dic was sure she could not, under any circumstances, feel as +he did. His mistake grew partly out of his lack of knowledge that +woman's flesh and blood is of exactly the same quality that covers the +bones and flows in the veins of man, and--well, Rita was Rita, and, in +Dic's opinion, no other human being was ever of the quality of her +flesh, or cast in the mould of her nature. The letter told him that he +still held her warm, tender love as a friend. He was thankful for that, +and would neither ask nor expect anything more. + +If upon Rita's former visit to Sukey she had been too sad to enjoy the +vivacious little maiden, upon this occasion she was too happy. She sat +listening patiently to her chat, without hearing much of it, until Sukey +said:-- + +"Dic was over to see me last night. I think he's so handsome, don't +you?" + +Rita was so startled that she did not think anything at the moment, and +Sukey presently asked:-- + +"Don't you think he has a fine head? and his eyes are glorious. The gray +is so dark, and they look right at you." + +Rita, compelled to answer, said, "I think he is--is all right--strong." + +"Indeed, he is strong," responded Sukey. "When he takes hold of you, you +just feel like he could crush you. Oh, it's delicious--it's +thrilling--when you feel that a man could just tear you to pieces if he +wanted to." + +"Why?" asked Rita; "I don't understand." + +"Oh, just because," replied Sukey, shrugging her shoulders and laughing +softly, her red lips parted, her little teeth glistening like wet ivory, +and the dimples twinkling mischievously. + +"Just because" explained nothing to Rita, but something in Sukey's +laughter and manner aroused undefined and disagreeable suspicions, so +she said:-- + +"Well, Sukey, I must be going home." + +"Why, you just came," returned Sukey, still laughing softly. She had +shot her arrow intentionally and had seen it strike the target's centre. +Sukey was younger than Rita, but she knew many times a thing or two; +while poor Rita's knowledge of those mystic numbers was represented by +the figure O. + +Why should Dic "take hold" of any one, thought Rita, while riding home, +and above all, why should he take hold of Sukey? Sukey was pretty, and +Sukey's prettiness and Dic's "taking hold" seemed to be related in some +mysterious manner. She who saw others through the clear lens of her own +conscience did not doubt Dic and Sukey, but notwithstanding her +trustfulness, a dim suspicion passed through her mind that something +might be wrong if Dic had really "taken hold" of Sukey. Where the evil +was, she could not determine; and to connect the straightforward, manly +fellow with anything dishonorable or wicked was impossible to her. So +she dismissed the subject, and it left no trace upon her mind save a +slight irritation against Sukey. + +Rita felt sure that Dic would come to see Tom that evening, and the red +ribbon was in evidence soon after supper. Dic did come, and there was at +least one happy girl on Blue. + + + + +THE SYCAMORE DIVAN + +CHAPTER III + +THE SYCAMORE DIVAN + + +A virgin love in the heart of a young girl is like an effervescent +chemical: it may withstand a great shock, but a single drop of an +apparently harmless liquid may cause it to evaporate. This risk Dic took +when he went that evening to see Tom; and the fact that Rita had written +her letter, of which she had such grave misgivings, together with the +words of Sukey Yates, made his risk doubly great. Poor Dic needed a +thorough knowledge of chemistry. He did not know that he possessed it, +but he was a pure-minded, manly man, and the knowledge was innate with +him. + +"Good evening, Rita," said Dic, when, after many efforts, she came out +upon the porch where he was sitting with her father, her mother, and +Tom. + +"Good morning," answered Rita, confusedly, and her mistake as to the +time of day added to her confusion. + +"Good morning!" cried Tom. "It's evening. My! but she's confused because +you're here, Dic." + +Tom was possessed of a simian acuteness that had led him to discover +poor Rita's secret before she herself was fully aware of its existence. +She, however, was rapidly making the interesting discovery, and feared +that between the ribbon, the letter, and Tom's amiable jokes, Dic would +discover it and presume upon the fact. From the mingling of these doubts +and fears grew a feeling of resentment against Dic--a conviction before +the fact. She wished him to know her regard for him, but she did not +want him to learn it from any act of hers. She desired him to wrest it +from her by main force, and as little awkwardness as a man may use. Had +Dic by the smallest word or act shown a disposition to profit by what +Rita feared had been excessive frankness in her letter, or had he, in +any degree, assumed the attitude of a confident lover, such word or act +would have furnished the needful chemical drop, and Dic's interests +would have suffered. His safety at this time lay in ignorance. He did +not suspect that Rita loved him, and there was no change in his open +friendly demeanor. He was so easy, frank, and happy that evening that +the girl soon began to feel that nothing unusual had happened, and that, +after all, the letter was not bold, but perfectly right, and quite +proper in all respects. Unconsciously to her Dic received the credit for +her eased conscience, and she was grateful to him. She was more +comfortable, and the evening seemed more like old times than for many +months before. + +Soon after Dic's arrival, Tom rode over to see Sukey Yates. As the +hollyhock to the bees, so was Sukey to the country beaux--a conspicuous, +inviting, easily reached little reservoir of very sweet honey. Later, +Mr. and Mrs. Bays drove to town, leaving Dic and Rita to themselves, +much to the girl's alarm, though she and Dic had been alone together +many times before. Thus Dic had further opportunity to make a mistake; +but he did not mention the letter, and the girl's confidence came slowly +back to her. + +The evening was balmy, and after a time Dic and Rita walked to the crest +of the little slope that fell gently ten or fifteen feet to the water's +edge. A sycamore log answered the purpose of a divan, and a great +drooping elm furnished a royal canopy. A half-moon hung in the sky, +whitening a few small clouds that seemed to be painted on the blue-black +dome. The air, though not oppressive, was warm enough to make all +nature languorous, and the soft breath of the south wind was almost +narcotic in its power to soothe. A great forest is never still; even its +silence has a note of its own. The trees seem to whisper to each other +in the rustling of their leaves. The birds, awakened by the wind or by +the breaking of a twig, speak to their neighbors. The peevish catbird +and the blue jay grumble, while the thrush, the dove, and the redbird +peep caressingly to their mates, and again fall asleep with gurgles of +contentment in their throats. + +Rita and Dic sat by the river's edge for many minutes in silence. The +ever wakeful whippoorwill piped his doleful cry from a tree across the +water, an owl hooted from the blackness of the forest beyond the house, +and the turtle-doves cooed plaintively to each other in their +far-reaching, mournful tones, giving a minor note to the nocturnal +concert. Now and then a fish sprang from the water and fell back with a +splash, and the water itself kept up a soft babble like the notes of a +living flute. + +Certainly the time was ripe for a mistake, but Dic did not make one. A +woman's favor comes in waves like the flowing of the sea; and a wise +man, if he fails to catch one flood, will wait for another. Dic was +unconsciously wise, for Rita's favor was at its ebb when she walked down +to the river bank. Ebb tide was indicated by the fact that she sat as +far as possible from him on the log. The first evidence of a returning +flood-tide would be an unconscious movement on her part toward him. +Should the movement come from him there might be no flood-tide. + +During the first half-hour Dic did most of the talking, but he spoke +only of a book he had borrowed from Billy Little. With man's usual +tendency to talk a subject threadbare, he clung to the one topic. A few +months prior to that time his observations on the book would have +interested the girl; but recently two or three unusual events had +touched her life, and her dread that Dic would speak of them, was +rapidly growing into a fear that he would not. By the end of that first +half-hour, her feminine vivacity monopolized the conversation with an +ostentatious display of trivial details on small subjects, and she began +to move toward his end of the log. Still Dic kept his place, all +unconscious of his wisdom. + +Geese seemed to be Rita's favorite topic. Most women are clever at +periphrasis, and will go a long way around to reach a desired topic, if +for any reason they do not wish to approach it directly. The topics Rita +wished to reach, as she edged toward Dic on the log and talked about +geese, were her unkind words and her very kind letter. She wished to +explain that her words were not meant to be unkind, and that the letter +was not meant to be kind, and thought to reach the desired topics by the +way of geese. + +"Do you remember, Dic," she asked, "a long time ago, when Tom and I and +the Yates children spent the afternoon at your house? We were sitting +near the river, as we are sitting now, and a gray wolf ran down from the +opposite bank and caught a gander?" + +"Yes, I remember it as if it were yesterday," replied Dic. + +"Geese are such fools when they are frightened," continued Rita, +clinging to her subject. + +"So are people," answered Dic. "We are all foolish when frightened. The +other day the barn door slammed to with a crash, and I was so frightened +I tried to put the collar in the horse's mouth." Rita laughed, and Dic +continued, "Once I was in the woods hunting, and a bear rose up--" + +"But geese are worse than anybody when disturbed," interrupted Rita, +"worse even than you when the barn door slams. The other day I wanted to +catch a goose to get a--" + +"They are not worse than a lot of girls at gabbling," interrupted Dic, +ungallantly retaliating for Rita's humorous thrust. + +"They are not half so dull as a lot of men," she replied, tossing her +head. "When men get together they hum and hum about politics and crops, +till it makes one almost wish there were no government or crops. But +geese are--the other day I wanted to catch one to get a--" + +"All men don't hum and hum, as you say," returned Dic. "There's Billy +Little--you don't think he hums, do you?" + +"No," answered the girl; "Billy Little always says something when he +talks, but he's always talking. I will put him against any man in the +world for a talking match. But the other day I wanted to catch a goose +to get a quill, and--" + +"Oh, that reminds me," broke in Dic, "my Uncle Joe Bright is coming to +visit us soon. Talk about talkers! He is a Seventh Day Adventist +preacher, and his conversation--no, I'll say his talk, for that's all it +is--reminds me of time." + +"How is that?" queried Rita. + +"It's made up of small particles, goes on forever, and is all seconds. +He says nothing first hand. His talk is all borrowed." + +Rita laughed and tried again. "Well, I wanted to catch--" + +"You just spoke of a talking match," said Dic. "I have an idea. Let us +bring Billy Little and my uncle together for a talking match." + +"Very well," replied Rita, laughing heartily. "I'll stake my money on +Billy Little. But I was saying, the other day I--" + +"I'll put mine on Uncle Joe," cried Dic. "Billy Little is a 'still Bill' +compared with him." + +Rita was provoked, and I think with good reason; but after a pause she +concluded to try once more. + +"The other day I wanted a quill for a pen, and when I tried to catch a +goose I thought their noise would alarm the whole settlement." + +"Geese awakened Rome," said Dic. "If they should awaken Blue River, it, +also, might become famous. The geese episode is the best known fact +concerning the Eternal City--unless perhaps it is her howling." + +"Rome had a right to howl," said Rita, anxious to show that she +remembered his teaching. "She was founded by the children of a wolf." + +Dic was pleased and laughingly replied: "That ponderous historical +epigram is good enough to have come from Billy Little himself. When you +learn a fact, it immediately grows luminous." + +The girl looked quickly up to satisfy herself that he was in earnest. +Being satisfied, she moved an inch or two nearer him on the log, and +began again:-- + +"I wanted to catch the goose--" but she stopped and concluded to try the +Billy Little road. "Dear old Billy Little," she said, "isn't he good? +The other day he said he'd trust me for the whole store, if I wanted to +buy it. I had no money and I wanted to buy--" + +"Why should he not trust you for all you would buy?" asked Dic. "He +knows he would get his money." + +The Billy Little route also seemed hilly. She concluded to try another, +and again made a slight movement toward Dic on the log. + +"I went from your house this afternoon over to Sukey's." She looked +stealthily at Dic, but he did not flinch. After a pause she continued, +with a great show of carelessness and indifference, though this time she +moved away from him as she spoke. "She said you had been over to see her +last night." And to show that she was not at all interested in his +reply, she hummed the air of a song and carefully scrutinized a star +that was coming dangerously close to the moon. + +"Yes, I went over to borrow their adze. Ours is broken," returned Dic. + +The song ceased. Star and moon might collide for all the singer cared. +She was once again interested in things terrestrial. + +"Now, Dic," she cried, again moving toward him and unduly emphasizing +the fact that she was merely teasing (she talked to tease, but listened +to learn), "now, Dic, you know the adze was only an excuse. You went to +see Sukey. You know you did. Why didn't you borrow Kaster's adze? They +live much nearer your house." She thought she had him in a trap, and +laughed as if she were delighted. + +"I went to Kaster's first. They had none." + +The girl concluded she was on the wrong road. But the side road had +suddenly become interesting, and she determined to travel it a short +way. Silence ensued on Dic's part, and travel on the side road became +slow. Rita was beginning to want to gallop. If she continued on the side +road, she feared her motive might grow to look more like a desire to +learn than a desire to tease; but she summoned her boldness, and with a +laugh that was intended to be merry, said:-- + +"Dic, you know you went to see Sukey, and that you spent the evening +with her." + +"Did she say I did?" he asked, turning sharply upon her. + +"Well--" replied Rita, but she did not continue. The Sukey Yates road +_was_ interesting, unusually so. + +Dic paused for an answer, but receiving none, continued with emphasis:-- + +"I did not go into the house. I wasn't there five minutes, and I didn't +say ten words to Sukey." + +"You need not get mad about it," replied the girl. "I don't care how +often you go to see Sukey or any other girl." + +"I know you don't," he returned. "Of course you don't care. I never +hoped--never even dreamed--that you would," and his breath came quickly +with his bold, bold words. + +"You might as well begin to dream," thought the girl, but she laughed, +this time nervously, and said, "She told me you were there and +took--took hold of--that is, she said you were so strong that when you +took hold of her she felt that you could crush her." Then forgetting +herself for a moment, she moved quite close to Dic and asked, "_Did_ you +take--take--" but she stopped. + +"Tell me, Rita," returned Dic, with a sharpness that attracted her +attention at once, "did she say I took hold of her, or are you trying to +tease me? If you are teasing, I think it is in bad taste. If she said--" + +"Well," interrupted the girl, slightly frightened, "she said that when +you take hold of one--" + +"Oh, she did not say herself?" asked Dic. + +"I don't see that she could have meant any one else," replied Rita. +"But, dear me, I don't care how often you take hold of her; you need not +get angry at me because you took hold of her. There can be no harm in +taking hold of any one, I'm sure, if you choose to do so; but why one +should do it, I don't know, and I'm sure I don't care." + +No _ex post facto_ resolution could cure that lie, though of course it +is a privileged one to a girl. + +Dic made no reply, save to remark: "I'll see Miss Sukey to-morrow. If I +wanted to 'take hold' of her, as she calls it, I would do so, but--but +I'll see her to-morrow." + +The answer startled Rita. She did not want to be known as a tale-bearer. +Especially did she object in this particular case; therefore she +said:-- + +"You may see her if you wish, but you shall not speak to her of what I +have told you. She would think--" + +"Let her think what she chooses," he replied. "I have never 'taken hold' +of her in my life. Lord knows, I might if I wanted to. All the other +boys boast that they take turn about, but--. She would be a fool to tell +if it were true, and a story-teller if not. So I'll settle the question +to-morrow, and for all time." + +A deal of trouble might have been saved had Rita permitted him to make +the settlement with Sukey, but she did not. The infinite potency of +little things is one of the paradoxes of life. + +"No, you shall not speak of this matter to her," she said, moving close +to him upon the log and putting her hand upon his arm coaxingly. +"Promise me you will not." + +He would have promised to stop breathing had she asked it in that mood. +It was the first he had ever seen of it, and he was pleased, although, +owing to an opaqueness of mind due to his condition, it told him nothing +save that his old-time friend was back again. + +"If you tell her," continued the girl, "she will be angry with me, and I +have had so much trouble of late I can't bear any more." + +At last she was on the straight road bowling along like a mail coach. +"After I spoke to you as I did the other night--you know, when Tom--I +could not eat or sleep. Oh, I was in so much trouble! You and I had +always been such real friends, and you have always been so good to me--" +a rare little lump was rapidly and alarmingly growing in her throat--"I +have never had even an unkind look from you, and to speak to you as I +did,--oh, Dic,--" the lump grew too large for easy utterance, and she +stopped speaking. Dic was wise in not pursuing the ebb, but he was +foolish in not catching the flood. But perhaps if he would wait, it +might ingulf him of its own accord, and then, ah, then, the sweetness of +it! + +"Never think of it again," he said soothingly. "Your words hurt me at +the time, but your kind, frank letter cured the pain, and I intended +never to speak of it. But since you have spoken, I--I--" + +The girl was frightened, although eager to hear what he would say, so +she remained silent during Dic's long pause, and at length he said, "I +thank you for the letter." + +A sigh of mingled relief and disappointment came from her breast. + +"It gave me great pleasure, for it made me know that you were still my +friend," said Dic, "and that your words were meant for Tom, and not for +me." + +"Indeed, not for you," said Rita, still struggling with the lump in her +throat. + +"Let us never speak of it again," said Dic. "I'm glad it happened. It +puts our friendship on a firmer basis than ever before." + +"That would be rather hard, to do, wouldn't it?" asked the girl, +laughing contentedly. "We have been such good friends ever since I was a +baby--since before I can remember." + +The direct road was becoming too smooth for Rita, and she began to fear +she would not be able to stop. + +"Let us make this bargain," said Dic. "When you want to say anything +unkind, say it to me. I'll not misunderstand." + +"Very well," she replied laughingly, "the privilege may be a great +comfort to me at times. I, of course, dare not scold mother. If I look +cross at Tom, mother scolds me for a week, and I could not speak +unkindly to poor father. You see, I have no one to scold, and I'm sure +every one should have somebody to explode upon with impunity now and +then. So I'll accept your offer, and you may expect--" There was a brief +pause, after which she continued: "No, I'll not. Never again so long as +I live. You, of all others, shall be safe from my ill temper," and she +gave him her hand in confirmation of her words. + +In all the world there was no breast freer from ill temper than hers; no +heart more gentle, tender, and trustful. Her nature was like a burning +spring. It was pure, cool, and limpid to its greatest depths, though +there was fire in it. + +Dic did not consider himself obliged to release Rita's hand at once, and +as she evidently thought it would be impolite to withdraw it, there is +no telling what mistakes might have happened had not Tom appeared upon +the scene. + +Tom seated himself beside Dic just as that young man dropped Rita's +hand, and just as the young lady moved a little way toward her end of +the log. + +"You are home early," remarked Rita. + +"Yes," responded Tom, "Doug Hill was there--the lubberly pumpkin-head." + +No man of honor would remain in a young lady's parlor if at the time of +his arrival she had another gentleman visitor unless upon the request of +the young lady, and no insult so deep and deadly could be offered to the +man in possession as the proffer of such a request by the young lady to +the intruder. + +After a few minutes of silence Tom remarked: "This night reminds me of +the night I come from Cincinnati to Brookville on the canal-boat. +Everything's so warm and clear like. I set out on top of the boat and +seed the hills go by." + +"Did the hills go by?" asked Rita, who had heard the story of Tom's +Cincinnati trip many times. + +"Well, they seemed to go by," answered Tom. "Of course, they didn't +move. It was the boat. But I jest seed them move as plain as I see that +cloud up yonder." + +That Tom had not profited by Billy Little's training and his mother's +mild corrections now and then (for the Chief Justice had never entirely +lost the habits of better days), was easily discernible in his speech. +Rita's English, like Dic's and Billy Little's, was corrupted in spots by +evil communication; but Tom's--well, Tom was no small part of the evil +communication itself. + +Dic had heard the Cincinnati story many times, and when he saw symptoms +of its recurrence, he rose and said:-- + +"Well, Tom, if you _seed_ the hills go by, you'll _seed_ me go by if you +watch, for I'm going home," and with a good night he started up the +river path, leaving Rita and her brother Tom seated on the log. + +"So Doug Hill was there?" asked Rita. + +"Yes," responded Tom; "and how any girl can let him kiss her, I don't +know. His big yaller face reminds me of the under side of a mud-turtle." + +"I hope Sukey doesn't allow him nor any one else to kiss her," cried +Rita, with a touch of indignant remonstrance. Tom laughed as if to say +that he could name at least one who enjoyed that pleasant privilege. + +Rita was at that time only sixteen years old, and had many things to +learn about the doings of her neighbors, which one would wish she might +never know. The Chief Justice had at least one virtue: she knew how to +protect her daughter. No young man had ever been permitted to "keep +company" with Rita, and she and her mother wanted none. Dic, of course, +had for years been a constant visitor; but he, as you know, was like one +of the family. Aside from the habit of Dic's visits, and growing out of +them, Madam Bays had dim outlines of a future purpose. Dic's father, who +was dead, had been considered well-to-do among his neighbors. He had +died seized of four "eighties," all paid for, and two-thirds cleared for +cultivation. Eighty acres of cleared bottom land was looked upon as a +fair farm. One might own a thousand acres of rich soil covered with as +fine oak, walnut, and poplar as the world could produce and might still +be a poor man, though the timber in these latter days would bring a +fortune. Cleared land was wealth at the time of which I write, and in +building their houses the settlers used woods from which nowadays +furniture is made for royal palaces. Every man on Blue might have said +with Louis XIV, "I am housed like a king." Cleared land was wealth, and +Dic, upon his mother's death, would at least be well able to support a +wife. The Chief Justice knew but one cause for tenderness--Tom. When +Rita was passing into womanhood, and developing a beauty that could not +be matched on all the River Blue, she began to assume a commercial value +in her mother's eyes that might, Madam B. thought in a dimly conscious +fashion, be turned to Tom's account. Should Rita marry a rich man, there +would be no injustice--justice, you know, was the watchword--in leaving +all the Bays estate to the issue male. Therefore, although Mrs. Bays was +not at all ready for her young daughter to receive attention from any +man, when the proper time should come, Dic might be available if no one +better offered, and Tom, dear, sweet, Sir Thomas de Triflin', should +then have all that his father and mother possessed, as soon as they +could with decent self-respect die and get out of his way. + +As time passed, and Rita's beauty grew apace, Mrs. Bays began to feel +that Dic with his four "eighties" was not a price commensurate with the +winsome girl. But having no one else in mind, she permitted his visits +with a full knowledge of their purpose, and hoped that chance or her +confidential friend, Providence, might bring a nobler prize within +range of the truly great attractiveness of Tom's sister. + +Mrs. Bays knew that the life she and her neighbors were leading was poor +and crude. She also knew that men of wealth and position were eagerly +seeking rare girls of Rita's type. By brooding over better things than +Dic could offer, her hope grew into a strong desire, and with Rita's +increasing beauty this motherly desire took the form of faith. Still, +Dic's visits were permitted to continue, and doubtless would be +permitted so long as they should be made ostensibly to the family. + +Tom's remarks upon Sukey and Sukey's observations concerning Dic had +opened Rita's eyes to certain methods prevalent among laddies and +lasses, and as a result Sukey, for the time, became _persona non grata_ +to her old-time friend. Rita was not at the time capable of active +jealousy. She knew Sukey was pretty enough, and, she feared, bold enough +to be dangerous in the matter of Dic, but she trusted him. Sukey +certainly was prettily bedecked with the pinkest and whitest of cheeks, +twinkling dimples, and sparkling eyes; but for real beauty she was not +in Rita's class, and few men would think of her fleshly charms twice +when they might be thinking of our little heroine. + +Thus Tom and Sukey became fountain-heads of unhallowed knowledge upon +subjects concerning which every young girl, however pure, has a +consuming curiosity. + +Rita had heard of the "kissing games" played by the youngsters, and a +few of the oldsters, too, at country frolics, corn-huskings, and church +socials; but as I have told you, the level-headed old Chief Justice had +wisely kept her daughter away from such gatherings, and Rita knew little +of the kissing, and never telling what was going on about her. Tom and +Sukey had thrown light upon the subject for her, and she soon +understood, feared, and abhorred. Would she ever pity and embrace? + + + + +THE DEBUTANTE + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DEBUTANTE + + +A year after the small happenings I have just related, great events +began to cluster about Dic. They were truly great for him and of course +were great for Rita. + +Through Billy Little's aid Dic received an offer from an eastern horse +buyer to lead a drove of horses to New York. The task was difficult, and +required a man of health, strength, judgment, and nerve. The trip going +would require two months, and the horses must be kept together, fed, +cared for, and, above all, protected night and day from horse thieves, +until after the Alleghanies were crossed. The horses were driven loose +in herds of one hundred or more. Three men constituted a crew. In this +instance Dic was to be in charge, and two rough horse-boys would be his +assistants. It would have been impossible to _drive_ the horses over the +fenceless roads and through the leagues of trackless forest; therefore, +they were led. The men would take turns about riding in advance, and the +man leading would continually whistle a single shrill note which the +horses soon learned to follow. Should the whistling cease for a moment, +the horses would stop and perhaps stampede. This might mean forty-eight +hours of constant work in gathering the drove, with perhaps the loss of +one or more. If you will, for one hour, whistle a shrill note loud +enough to reach the ears of a herd of trampling, neighing horses, you +will discover that even that task, which is the smallest part of horse +"leading," is an exhausting operation. + +The work was hard, but the pay was good, and Dic was delighted with the +opportunity. One of its greatest attractions to him was the fact that he +would see something of the world. Billy Little urged him to accept the +offer. + +"A man," said he, "estimates his own stature by comparing it with those +about him, and the most fatal mistake he can make is to underestimate +his size. Self-conceit is ugly, but it never injured any one. Modesty +would have ruined Napoleon himself. The measure of a man, like the +length of a cloth-yard, depends upon the standard. Go away from here, +Dic. Find your true standard. Measure yourself and return, if you wish. +This place is as good as another, if a man knows himself; if he doesn't, +he is apt to be deceived by the littleness of things about him. Yet +there are great things here, too--greater, in some respects, than any to +be found in New York; but the great things here are possibilities. Of +course, possibilities are but the raw material. They must be +manufactured--achieved. But achievement, my boy, achievement! that's the +whole thing, after all. What would Caesar Germanicus and Napoleon have +been without possibilities? A ready-made opportunity is a good thing in +its way, but it is the creation of opportunity out of crude +possibilities that really marks and makes the man and stamps the deed. +Any hungry fool would seize the opportunity to eat who might starve if +he had to make his bread. Go out into the world. You have good eyes. It +will not take long to open them. When they are opened, come back and you +will see opportunities here that will make you glad you are alive." + +"But, Billy Little," replied Dic, who was sitting with Rita on the +sycamore divan, while their small elderly friend sat upon the grass +facing them, "you certainly have seen the world. Your eyes were opened +before you came here, and it seems to me your learning and culture are +buried here among the possibilities you speak of." + +"No, Dic," answered Billy, "you see, I--well, I ran away from--from many +things. You see, you and I are cast in different moulds. You are six +feet tall, physically and temperamentally." Rita thought Billy was the +most acute observer in Christendom, but she did not speak, save with her +eyes. Those eyes nowadays were always talking. + +"Six feet don't amount to much," responded Dic. "There is Doug Hill, who +is six feet three, with no more brains than a catfish. It is what's at +the top of the six feet that counts. You have more at the top of your +five feet four than the tallest man on Blue, and as I said, you seem to +be buried here. Where are the possibilities for you, Billy Little? And +if you can't achieve something great--poor me!" + +"There are different possibilities for different men. I think, for +example, I have achieved something in you. What say you, Rita?" + +The girl was taken unawares. "Indeed you have, glorious--splendid--that +is, I mean you have achieved something great in all of us whom you have +tried to influence. I see your possibilities, Billy Little. I see them +stamped upon the entire Blue River settlement. La Salle and Marquette, +of whom Dic read to me from your book, had the same sort of +opportunities. Their field was broader, but I doubt if their influence +will be more lasting than yours." + +"Rather more conspicuous," laughed Billy. + +"Yes," answered Rita, "your achievements will not be recorded. Their +effect will probably be felt by all of us, and the achievement must be +your only reward." + +"It is all I ask," returned Billy. Then, after a pause, he spoke in +mock reproof to Dic, "Now, hang your head in shame." + +"I suppose it's my turn," Dic replied. + +"The achievements of picturesque men only should be placarded to the +world," said Billy. "The less said about a little old knot like me the +better for--better for the knot." + +"You are not a knot," cried Rita indignantly. + +"Rita," said Dic, "you know the walnut knot, while it shows the roughest +bark, has the finest grain in the tree." + +"I am going home if you don't stop that sort of talking," said Billy, +pleased to his toes, but pretending to be annoyed. + +A fortnight before Dic's intended departure for New York an opportunity +presented itself of which the young man, after due consideration, +determined to take advantage. He walked over one evening to see Tom, +but, as usual, found Rita. After a few minutes in which to work his +courage up, he said:-- + +"There is to be a church social at Scott's to-morrow night--the +Baptists. I wonder if you would like--that is, would want to--would be +willing to go with me?" + +"I would be glad to go," answered the girl; "but mother won't let me." + +"We'll go in and ask her, if you wish," he replied. + +"There's no use, but we can try. Perhaps if she thinks I don't want to +go, she will consent." + +Into the house they went, and Dic made his wants known to the head of +the family. + +"No," snapped the good lady, "she can't go. Girls of sixteen and +seventeen nowadays think they are young ladies." + +"They are dull, anyway," said Rita, referring to church socials. "I have +heard they are particularly dull at Scott's--the Baptists are so +religious. Sukey Yates said they did nothing but preach and pray and +sing psalms and take up a collection at the last social Scott gave. +It's just like church, and I don't want to go anyway." She had never +been to a church social, but from what she had heard she believed them +to be bacchanalian scenes of riotous enjoyment, and her remarks were +intended to deceive. + +"You should not speak so disrespectfully of the church," said the Chief +Justice, sternly. "The Lord will punish you for it, see if He doesn't. +Since I think about it, the socials held at Scott's are true, religious, +God-fearing gatherings, and you shall go as a punishment for your +sacrilegious sneers. Perhaps if you listen to the Word, it may come back +after many days." Margarita, Sr., often got her Biblical metaphors +mixed, but that troubled her little. There was, she thought, virtue in +scriptural quotations, even though entirely inapplicable to the case in +point. + +"Come for her to-morrow evening, Dic," said Mrs. B. "She shall be +ready." Then turning to Rita: "To speak of the Holy Word in that manner! +You shall be punished." + +Dic and Rita went out to the porch. Dic laughed, but the girl saw +nothing funny. + +"It seems to me just as if I had told a story," she said. "One may act a +story as easily as tell it." + +"Well, you are to be punished," laughed Dic. + +"But you know I want to go. I have never been to a social, and it will +not punish me to go." + +"Then you are to be punished by going with me," returned the stalwart +young fisherman. She looked up to him with a flash of her eyes--those +eyes were worse than a loose tongue for tattling--and said:-- + +"That is true." + +Dic, who was fairly boiling with pleasant anticipations, went to town +next day and boiled over on Billy Little. + +"I'm going to take Rita to Scott's social this evening," he said. + +"Ah, indeed," responded Billy; "it's her first time out, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"I envy her, by George, I do, and I envy you," said Billy. He did not +envy Dic; but you may remember my remarks concerning bachelor hearts and +their unprotected condition in this cruel world. There may be pain of +the sort Billy felt without either envy or jealousy. + +"Dic, I have a mind to send Rita a nice ribbon or two for to-night. What +do you think about it?" asked Billy. + +"She would be delighted," answered Dic. "She would accept them from you, +but not from me." + +"There is no flattery in that remark," answered Billy, with a touch of +sharpness. + +"Why, Billy Little, what do you suppose I meant?" asked Dic. + +"I know you spoke the truth. She would accept a present from the little +old knot, but would refuse it from the straight young tree." + +"Why, Billy Little, I meant nothing of the sort." + +"Now, not another word," interrupted Billy. "Give these ribbons to her +when you ride home, and tell her the knot sends them to the sweetbrier." +Then turning his face to the shelves on the wall, and arranging a few +pieces of goods, he hummed under his breath his favorite stanza, +"Maxwelton's braes," and paid no further attention to his guest. + +Rita came out as Dic rode up to the gate. He did not dismount, but +handed her the ribbons across the fence, saying: "Billy Little sends you +these for to-night. He said they were from the knot to the sweetbrier." + +The girl's suppressed delight had been troubling her all day. Her first +party, her first escort, and that escort Dic! What more could a girl +desire? The ribbons were too much. And somebody was almost ready to weep +for joy. She opened the little package and her eyes sparkled. When she +felt that speech was entirely safe, she said:-- + +"The little package is as prim and neat as Billy Little himself. Dear, +sweet, old Billy Little." + +Dic, whose heart was painfully inflamed, was almost jealous of Billy, +and said:-- + +"I suppose you would not have accepted them from me?" + +"Why not?" she responded. "Of course I would." Her eyes grew wide when +she looked up to him and continued, "Did you get them for me and tell me +that Billy Little sent them?" + +"No," answered Dic, regretfully, as he began to see possibilities, even +on Blue. One possibility, at least, he saw clearly--one that he had +lost. + +"It was more than a possibility," he said to himself, as he rode +homeward. "It was a ready-made opportunity, and I did not see it. The +sooner I go to New York or some place else and get my eyes opened, the +better it will be for me." + + * * * * * + +The church social opened with a long, sonorous prayer by the Baptist +preacher, Mr. Wetmore. Then followed a psalm, which in turn was followed +by a "few words." After the few words, Rev. Wetmore said in soft, +conciliatory tones, "Now, brethren, if Deacon Moore will be so kind as +to pass the hat, we will receive the offering." + +Wetmore was not an ordained minister, nor was he recognized by the +church to which he claimed to belong. He was one of the many itinerant +vagabonds who foisted themselves upon isolated communities solely for +the sake of the "offering." + +Deacon Moore passed his hat, and when he handed it to Wetmore that +worthy soul counted out two large copper pennies. There were also in the +hat two brass buttons which Tom, much to Sukey's amusement, had torn +from his clothing for the purpose of an offering. Sukey laughed so +inordinately at Tom's extravagant philanthropy that she convinced De +Triflin' he was a very funny fellow indeed; but she brought upon her +pretty flaxen head a reprimand from Wetmore. + +"Undue levity," said he, "ill becomes even frivolous youth at this +moment. Later you will have ample opportunity to indulge your mirth; but +for the present, the Lord's business--" at the word "business" he +received the hat from Deacon Moore, and looked eagerly into it for the +offering. Disappointment, quite naturally, spread itself over his sallow +face, and he continued: "Buttons do not constitute an acceptable +offering to the Lord. He can have no use for them. I think that during +the course of my life work in the vineyard I have received a million +buttons of which I--I mean the Lord--can have no possible use. If these +buttons had been dollars or shillings, or even pennies, think of the +blessings they would have brought from above." + +The reverend man spoke several times with excusable asperity of +"buttons," and after another psalm and a sounding benediction the +religious exercises were finished, and the real business of the evening, +the spelling-bee and the kissing games, began. + +At these socials many of the old folks took part in the spelling-bee, +after which they usually went home--an event eagerly awaited by the +young people. + +There was but one incident in the spelling-bee that touched our friends, +and I shall pass briefly over that part of the entertainment preceding +it. The class, ranging in years from those who lisped in youth to those +who lisped in age, stood in line against the wall, and Wetmore, +spelling-book in hand, stood in front of them to "give out" the words. +It was not considered fair to give out a word not in the spelling-book +until the spelling and "syllabling" of sentences was commenced. All +words were syllabled, but to spell and syllable a sentence was not an +easy task, and by the time sentences were reached the class usually had +dwindled down to three or four of the best spellers. Of course, one who +missed a word left the class. Our friends--Billy Little, Dic, Rita, and +Sukey Yates--were in the contest. + +The first word given out was metropolitan, and it fell to Douglas of the +Hill. He began: "M-e-t--there's your met; r-o--there's your ro; there's +your metro; p-o-l--there's your pol; there's your ro-pol; there's your +met-ro-pol; i--there's your i; there's your pol-i; there's your +ro-pol-i; there's your met-ro-pol-i; t-e-n--there's your--" "t-a-n," +cried the girl next to him, who happened to be Sukey Yates, and Douglas +stepped down and out. + +A score or more of words were then spelled without an error, until +Constantinople fell to the lot of an elderly man who stood by Rita. He +began: "C-o-n--there's your Con; s-t-a-n--there's your stan; there's +your Con-stan; t-i--there's your ti; there's your stan-ti; there's your +Con-stan-ti; n-o--there's your no; there's your ti-no; there's your +stan-ti-no; there's your Con-stan-ti-no; p-e-l--there's your pell; +there's your no--"--"p-l-e--there's your pell" (so pronounced); "there's +your Con-stan-ti-no-ple," chimed Rita, and her elderly neighbor took a +chair. Others of the class dropped out, leaving only our four +acquaintances,--Dic, Billy, Sukey, and Rita. Dic went out on "a" in +place of "i" in collectible, Sukey turning him down. Rita had hoped he +would win the contest and had determined, should it narrow down to +herself and him, to miss intentionally, if need be. After Dic had taken +a chair, judgment fell to and upon Sukey. She began "j-u-d-g-e--there's +your judge;" whereupon Billy Little said, "Sink the e," and Sukey sank, +leaving Billy Little and Rita standing against the wall, as if they were +about to be married. Billy, of course, was only awaiting a good +opportunity to fail in order that the laurels of victory might rest upon +Rita's brow. + +"We will now spell and syllable a few sentences," said Wetmore. "Mr. +Little, I give you the sentence, 'An abominable bumblebee with his tail +cut off.'" + +It must be remembered that in spelling these words and sentences each +syllable was pronounced separately and roundly. B-o-m was a full grown, +sonorous bom. B-u-m was a rolling bum, and b-l-e was pronounced bell +with a strong, full, ringing, liquid sound. The following italics show +the emphasis. Billy slowly repeated the sentence and began:-- + +"A-n--there's your an; a--there's your a; there's your an-a; +b-o-m--there's your _bom_; there's your _a_-bom; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_; i--there's your i; there's your _bom_-i; there's your +_a_-bom-i; there's your _an_-a-bom-i; n-a--there's your na; there's your +_i_-na; there's your _bom_-i-na; there's your _a_-bom-i-_na_; there's +your _an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_; b-l-e--there's your bell; there's your +_na_-bell; there's your _i_-na-bell; there's your _bom_-i-_na_-bell; +there's your _a_-bom-i-_na_-bell; there's your _an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell; +b-u-m--there's your bum; there's your _bell_-bum; there's your +_na_-bell-bum; there's your _i_-na-_bell_-bum; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_; there's your _a_-bom-i-_na_-_bell_-_bum_; +there's your _an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_; b-l-e--there's your bell; +there's your _bum_-bell; there's your _bell_-bum-_bell_; there's your +_na_-bell-_bum_-bell; there's your _i_-na-bell-_bum_-bell; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell; b-e-e--there's your bee; there's +your _bell_-bee; there's your _bum_-bell-bee; there's your +_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee; there's your _na_-bell-_bum_-_bell_-bee; there's +your _i_-na-bell-_bum_-bell-bee; there's your +_bom_-i-na-_bell_-_bum_-bell-bee; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee; there's your_an_-a-bom-i-_na_ +bell-_bum_-_bell_-bee; w-i-t-h--h-i-s--there's your with-his; there's +your _bee_-with-his; there's your _bell_-bee-with-his; there's your +_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; there's your _bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his; +there's your _na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +_i_-na-_bell_-_bum_-bell-_bee_-with-his; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +_a_-_bom_-i-na-_bell_-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his; t-a-l-e--there's +your--" But Rita chimed in at once: "T-a-i-l--there's your tail; there's +your _with_-his-tail; there's your _bee_-with-his-tail; there's your +_bell_-bee-with-his-_tail_; there's your _bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail; +there's your _bell_-bum-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_i_-na-_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_bom_-i-na-_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail; c-u-t--there's +your cut; there's your _tail_-cut; there's your _with_-his-tail-cut; +there's your _bee_-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_bum_-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut; there's your +_i_-na-_bell_-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-_tail_-cut; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-_bee_-with-his -_tail_-cut; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-_bell_-bum -_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-_cut_; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_ -i-_na_-bell-_bum_-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut; +o-f-f--there's your off; there's your _cut_-off; there's your +_tail_-cut-off; there's your _with_-_his_-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bee_-with -his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bum_-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_i_-na-_bell_-bum-_bell_-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_a_-bom-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with-his-tail-cut-off; there's your +_an_-a-_bom_-i-_na_-bell-_bum_-bell-bee-with his-tail-cut-_off_," and +Rita took her seat, filled with triumph, save for the one regret that +Dic had not won. + +Many of the old folks, including Billy Little, departed when the bee +closed, and a general clamor went up for the kissing games to begin. + +Rita declined to take part in the kissing games, and sat against the +wall with several other young ladies who had no partners. To Dic she +gave the candid reason that she did not want to play, and he was glad. + +Doug Hill, who, in common with every other young man on the premises, +ardently desired Rita's presence in the game, said:-- + +"Oh, come in, Rita. Don't be so stuck up. It won't hurt you to be +kissed." Doug was a bold, devil-may-care youth, who spoke his mind +freely upon all occasions. He was of enormous size, and gloried in the +fact that he was the neighborhood bully and very, very "tough." Doug +would have you know that Doug would drink; Doug would gamble; Doug would +fight. He tried to create the impression that he was very bad indeed, +and succeeded. He would go to town Saturdays, "fill up," as he called +getting drunk, and would ride furiously miles out of his way going home +that he might pass the houses of his many lady-loves, and show them by +yells and oaths what a rollicking blade he was. The reputation thus +acquired won him many a smile; for, deplore the fact as we may, there's +a drop of savage blood still alive in the feminine heart that does not +despise depravity in man as it really should. + +"Come into the game," cried Doug, taking Rita by the arm, and dragging +her toward the centre of the room. + +"I don't want to play," cried the girl. "Please let loose of my arms; +you hurt me," but Doug continued to drag her toward the ring of players +that was forming, and she continued to resist. Doug persisted, and after +a moment of struggling she called out, "Dic, Dic!" She had been +accustomed since childhood to call upon that name in time of trouble, +and had always found help. Dic would not have interfered had not Rita +called, but when she did he responded at once. + +"Let her alone, Hill," said Dic, as pleasantly as possible under the +circumstances. "If she doesn't want to play, she doesn't have to." + +"You go to--" cried Doug. "Maybe you think you can run over me, you +stuck-up Mr. Proper." + +"I don't want to do anything of the sort," answered Dic; "but if you +don't let loose of Rita's arm, I'll--" + +"What will you do?" asked Doug, laughing uproariously. + +For a moment Dic allowed himself to grow angry, and said, "I'll knock +that pumpkin off your shoulders," but at once regretted his words. + +Doug thought Dic's remark very funny, and intimated as much. Then he +bowed his head in front of our hero and said, "Here is the pumpkin; hit +it if you dare." + +Dic restrained an ardent desire, and Doug still with bowed head +continued, "I'll give you a shillin' if you'll hit it, and if you don't, +I'll break your stuck-up face." + +Dic did not accept the shilling, which was not actually tendered in +lawful coin, but stepped back from Doug that he might be prepared for +the attack he expected. After waiting what he considered to be a +reasonable time for Dic to accept his offer, Doug started toward our +hero, looking very ugly and savage. Dic was strong and brave, but he +seemed small beside his bulky antagonist, and Rita, frightened out of +all sense of propriety, ran to her champion, and placing her back +against his breast, faced Doug with fear and trembling. The girl was not +tall enough by many inches to protect Dic's face from the breaking Doug +had threatened; but what she lacked in height she made up in terror, +and she looked so "skeert," as Doug afterwards said, that he turned upon +his heel with the remark:-- + +"That's all right. I was only joking. We don't want no fight at a church +social, do we, Dic?" + +"I don't particularly want to fight any place," replied Dic, glad that +the ugly situation had taken a pleasant turn. + +"Reckon you don't," returned Doug, uproariously, and the game proceeded. + +Partly from disinclination, and partly because he wanted to talk to +Rita, Dic did not at first enter the game, but during an intermission +Sukey whispered to him:-- + +"We are going to play Drop the Handkerchief, and if you'll come in I'll +drop it behind you every time, and--" here the whispers became very low +and soft, "I'll let you catch me, too. We'll make pumpkin-head sick." + +The game of skill known as "Drop the Handkerchief" was played in this +fashion: a circle of boys and girls was formed in the centre of the +room, each person facing the centre. One of the number was chosen "It." +"It's" function was to walk or run around the circle and drop the +handkerchief behind the chosen one. If "It" happened to be a young man, +the chosen one, of course, was a young woman who immediately started in +pursuit. If she caught the young man before he could run around the +circle to the place she had vacated, he must deposit a forfeit, to be +redeemed later in the evening. In any case she became the next "It." A +young lady "It" of course dropped the handkerchief behind a young man, +and equally, of course, started with a scream of frightened modesty +around the circle of players, endeavoring to reach, if possible, the +place of sanctuary left vacant by the young man. He started in pursuit, +and if he caught her--there we draw the veil. If the young lady were +anxious to escape, it was often possible for her to do so. But thanks to +Providence, all hearts were not so obdurate as Rita's. I would say, +however, in palliation of the infrequency of escapes, that it was looked +upon as a serious affront for a young lady to run too rapidly. In case +she were caught and refused to pay the forfeit, her act was one of +deadly insult gratuitously offered in full view of friends and +acquaintances. + +Dic hesitated to accept Sukey's invitation, though, in truth, it would +have been inviting to any man of spirit. Please do not understand me to +say that Dic was a second Joseph, nor that he was one who would run away +from a game of any sort because a pretty Miss Potiphar or two happened +to be of the charmed and charming circle. + +He had often been in the games, and no one had ever impugned his spirit +of gallantry by accusing him of unseemly neglect of the beautiful Misses +P. His absence from this particular game was largely due to the fact +that the right Miss Potiphar was sitting against the wall. + +A flush came to Rita's cheek, and she moved uneasily when she saw Sukey +whispering to Dic; but he did not suspect that Rita cared a straw what +Sukey said. Neither did it occur to him that Rita would wish him to +remain out of the game. He could, if he entered the game, make Doug Hill +"sick," as Sukey had suggested, and that was a consummation devoutly to +be wished. He did not wish to subject himself to the charge of +ungallantry; and Sukey was, as you already know, fair to look upon, and +her offer was as generous as she could make under the circumstances. So +he chose a young lady, left Rita by the wall, and entered the game. + +Doug Hill happened to be "It" and dropped the handkerchief behind Sukey, +whereupon that young lady walked leisurely around the circle, making no +effort to capture the Redoubtable. Such apathy was not only an +infringement of the etiquette of the game, but might, if the injured +party were one of high spirits, be looked upon as an insult. + +Sukey then became "It," and, dropping the handkerchief behind Dic, +deliberately waited for him to catch her; when, of course, a catastrophe +ensued. Meantime, the wall was growing uncomfortable to Rita. She had +known in a dimly conscious way that certain things always happened at +country frolics, but to _see_ them startled her, and she began to feel +very miserable. Her tender heart fluttered piteously with a hundred +longings, chief among which was the desire to prevent further +catastrophes between Dic and Sukey. + +Compared to Sukey, there was no girl in the circle at all entitled to be +ranked in the Potiphar class of beauty. So, when Dic succeeded Sukey as +"It," he dropped the handkerchief behind her. Then she again chose Dic, +and in turn became the central figure in a catastrophe that was painful +to the girl by the wall. If Rita had been in ignorance of her real +sentiments for Dic, that ignorance had, within the last few minutes, +given place to a knowledge so luminous that it was almost blinding. The +room seemed to become intensely warm. Meantime the play went on, and the +process of making Doug "sick" continued with marked success. Sukey +always favored Dic, and he returned in kind. This alternation, which was +beyond all precedent, soon aroused a storm of protests. + +"If you want to play by yourselves," cried Tom, "why don't you go off by +yourselves?" + +"Yes," cried the others; "if you can't play fair, get out of the game." + +The order of events was immediately changed, but occasionally Sukey +broke away from time-honored precedent and repeated her favors to Dic. +Doug was rapidly growing as "sick" as his most inveterate enemy could +have desired. There was another person in the room who was also very +wretched--one whom Dic would not have pained for all the Sukey +Potiphars in Egypt. The other person was not only pained, she was +grieved, confused, frightened, desperate. She feared that she would cry +out and ask Dic not to favor Sukey. She did not know what to do, nor +what she might be led to do, if matters continued on their present +course. + +Soon after Tom's reprimand, Sukey found the duty of dropping the +handkerchief again devolving upon her pretty self. She longed with all +her heart to drop it behind Dic; but, fearing the wrath of her friends, +she concluded to choose the man least apt to arouse antagonism in Dic's +breast. She would choose one whom he knew she despised, and would trust +to luck and her swift little feet to take her around the circle before +the dropee could catch her. + +Wetmore had been an active member, though a passive participant, in the +game, since its beginning. When a young lady "It" walked back of him, he +would eagerly watch her approach, and when she passed him, as all did, +he would turn his face after her and hope for better things from the +next. Repeated disappointments had lulled his vigil, and when Sukey, the +girl of all others for whom he had not hoped, dropped the sacred linen +behind his reverend form, he was so startled that he did not seize the +precious moment. He was standing beside Doug Hill, and the handkerchief +fell almost between the two. It was clearly intended for his reverence; +but when he failed instantly to meet the requirements of the situation, +the Douglas, most alert of men, resolved to appropriate the opportunity +to himself. At the same moment Brother W. also determined to embrace it, +and, if possible, "It." Each stooped at the same instant, and their +heads collided. + +"Let it alone, parson, it's for me," cried the Douglas. + +Parson did not answer, but reached out his hand for the coveted prize. +Thereupon Douglas pushed him backward, causing him to be seated with +great violence upon the floor. At that unfortunate moment Sukey, who had +taken speed from eagerness, completed her trip around the circle, and +being unable to stop, fell headlong over the figure of the self-made +parson. She had not seen Doug's part in the transaction, and being much +disturbed in mind and dress, turned upon poor Wetmore and flung at the +worthy shepherd the opprobrious words, "You fool." + +When we consider the buttons in the offering, together with Sukey's +unjust and biting words, we cannot help believing that Wetmore had been +born under an unlucky star. + +One's partner in this game was supposed to favor one now and then, when +opportunity presented; but Wetmore's partner, Miss Tompkinson, having +waited in vain for favors from that gentleman, quitted the game when +Sukey called him, "You fool." Wetmore thought, of course, he also would +be compelled to drop out; but, wonder of wonders, Rita, the most +beautiful girl in the room, rose to her feet and said:-- + +"I'll take your place, Miss Tompkinson." She knew that if she were in +the game, Sukey's reign would end, and she had reached the point of +perturbation where she was willing to do anything to prevent the +recurrence of certain painful happenings. She knew that she should not +take part in the game,--it was not for such as her,--but she was +confused, desperate, and "didn't care." She modestly knew her own +attractions. Every young man in the circle was a friend of Tom's, and +had at some time manifested a desire to be a friend to Tom's sister. Tom +was fairly popular for his own sake, but his exceeding radiance was +borrowed. The game could not be very wicked, thought Rita, since it was +encouraged by the church; but even if it were wicked, she determined to +take possession of her own in the person of Dic. Out of these several +impulses and against her will came the words, "I'll take your place, +Miss Tompkinson," and almost before she was aware of what she had done +she was standing with fiercely throbbing pulse, a member of the +forbidden circle. + +[Illustration: "SHE FLUNG AT THE WORTHY SHEPHERD THE OPPROBRIOUS WORDS, +'YOU FOOL.'"] + +As Rita had expected, the handkerchief soon fell behind her, and without +the least trouble she caught the young fellow who had dropped it, for +the man did not live who could run from her. The pledge, a pocket-knife, +was deposited, and Rita became a trembling, terrified "It." What to do +with the handkerchief she did not know, but she started desperately +around the circle. After the fourth or fifth trip the players began to +laugh. Dic's heart was doing a tremendous business, and he felt that +life would be worthless if the handkerchief should fall from Rita's hand +behind any one but him. Meanwhile the frightened girl walked round and +round the circle, growing more confused with every trip. + +"Drop it, Rita," cried Doug Hill, "or you'll drop." + +"She's getting tired," said another. + +"See how warm she is," remarked gentle Tom. + +"Somebody fan her," whispered Sukey. + +"I don't believe I want to play," said Rita, whose cheeks were burning. +A chorus of protests came from all save Dic; so she took up her burden +again and of course must drop it. After another long weary walk an +inspiration came to her; she would drop the handkerchief behind Tom. She +did so. Tom laughed, and all agreed with one accord that it was against +the rules of the game to drop the handkerchief behind a brother or +sister. Then Rita again took up her burden, which by that time was a +heavy one indeed. She had always taken her burdens to Dic, so she took +this one to him and dropped it. + +"I knew she would," screamed every one, and Rita started in dreadful +earnest on her last fatal trip around the circle. A moment before the +circle had been too small, but now it seemed interminable, and poor +Rita found herself in Dic's strong arms before she was halfway home. She +almost hated him for catching her. She did not take into consideration +the facts that she had invited him and that it would have been ungallant +had he permitted her to escape, but above all, she did not know the +desire in his heart. She had surprised and disappointed him by entering +the game; but since it was permitted, he would profit by the surprise +and snatch a joyful moment from his disappointment. But another surprise +awaited him. When a young lady was caught a certain degree of +resistance, purely for form's sake, was expected, but usually the young +lady would feel aggrieved, or would laugh at the young man were the +resistance taken seriously. When Dic caught Rita there was one case, at +least, where the resistance was frantically real. She covered her face +with her hands and supposed he would make no effort to remove them. She +was mistaken, he acted upon the accepted theories of the game. She was a +baby in strength compared with Dic, and he easily held her hands while +he bent her head backward till her upturned face was within easy reach. + +"Don't kiss me," she cried. + +There was no sham in her words, and Dic, recognizing the fact, released +her at once and she walked sullenly to a chair. According to the rude +etiquette of the time, she had insulted him. + +There had been so many upheavals in the game that the trouble between +Dic and Rita brought it to a close. + +Dic was wounded, and poor Rita felt that now she had driven him from her +forever. Her eyes followed him about the room with wistful longing, and +although they were eloquent enough to have told their piteous little +story to one who knew anything about the language of great tender eyes, +they spoke nothing but reproachfulness to Dic. He did not go near her, +but after a time she went to him and said:-- + +"I believe I will go home; but I am not afraid to go alone, and you need +not go with me--that is, if you don't want to." + +"I do want to go with you," he responded. "I would not let you ride by +yourself. Even should nothing harm you, the howling of a wolf would +frighten you almost to death." + +She had no intention of riding home alone. She knew she would die from +fright before she had ridden a hundred yards into the black forest, so +she said demurely:-- + +"Of course, if you will go with me after--" + +"I would go with you after anything," he answered, but she thought he +spoke with a touch of anger. + +Had Dic ever hoped to gain more than a warm friendship from the girl +that hope had been shattered for all time, and never, never, never would +he obtrude his love upon her again. As a matter of fact, he had not +obtruded it upon her even once, but he had thought of doing it so many +times that he felt as if he had long been an importunate suitor. + + + + +UNDER THE ELM CANOPY + +CHAPTER V + +UNDER THE ELM CANOPY + + +Dic and Rita rode home through the forest in silence. His anger soon +evaporated, and he was glad she had refused to pay the forfeit. He would +be content with the friendship that had been his since childhood, and +would never again risk losing it. What right had he, a great, uncouth +"clodhopper," to expect even friendship from so beautiful and perfect a +creature as the girl who rode beside him; and, taking it all in all, the +fault, thought he, lay entirely at his door. In this sombre mood he +resolved that he would remain unmarried all his life, and would be +content with the incompleted sweet of loving. He would put a guard upon +himself, his acts, his words, his passion. The latter was truly as noble +and pure as man ever felt for woman, but it should not be allowed to +estrange his friend. She should never know it; no, never, never, never. + +Rita's cogitations were also along the wrong track. During her silent +ride homeward the girl was thinking with an earnestness and a rapidity +that had never before been developed in her brain. She was, at times, +almost unconscious that Dic was riding beside her, but she was vividly +conscious of the fact that she would soon be home and that he also would +be there. She determined to do something before parting from him to make +amends for her conduct at the social. But what should she do? Hence the +earnest and rapid intellection within the drooping head. She did not +regret having refused to kiss Dic. She would, under like circumstances, +again act in the same manner. She regretted the circumstances. To her, a +kiss should be a holy, sacred thing, and in her heart she longed for the +time when it would be her duty and her privilege to give her lips to the +one man. But kissing games seemed to her little less than open and +public shame. + +She could not, for obvious reasons, tell Dic she was sorry she had +refused him, and she certainly would not mend matters by telling him she +was glad. Still less could she permit him to leave her in his present +state of mind. All together it was a terrible dilemma. If she could for +only one moment have a man's privilege to speak, she thought, it would +all be very simple. But she could not speak. She could do little more +than look, and although she could do that well, she knew from experience +that the language of her eyes was a foreign tongue to Dic. + +When they reached home, Dic lifted Rita from her saddle and stabled her +horse. When he came from the barn she was holding his horse and waiting +for him. He took the rein from her hands, saying:-- + +"It seems almost a pity to waste such a night as this in the house. I +believe one might read by the light of the moon." + +"Yes," murmured the girl, hanging her head, while she meditatively +smoothed the grass with her foot. + +"It's neither warm nor cold--just pleasant," continued Dic. + +"No," she responded very softly. + +"But we must sleep," he ventured to assert. + +She would not contradict the statement. She was silent. + +"If the days could be like this night, work would be a pleasure," +observed Dic, desperately. + +"No," came the reply, hardly louder than a breath. She was not thinking +of the weather, but Dic stuck faithfully to the blessed topic. + +"It may rain soon," he remarked confusedly. There was not a cloud in +sight. + +"Yes," breathed the pretty figure, smoothing the grass with her foot. + +"But--but, I rather think it will not," he said. + +The girl was silent. She didn't care if it snowed. She longed for him to +drop the subject of the weather and to say something that would give her +an opportunity to speak. Her manner, however, was most unassuring, and +convinced Dic that he had offended beyond forgiveness, while his +distant, respectful formality and persistency in the matter of the +weather almost convinced the girl that he was lost to her forever. Thus +they stood before each other, as many others have done, a pair of +helpless fools within easy reach of paradise. Dic's straightforward +habits of thought and action came to his aid, however, and he determined +to make at least one more effort to regain the girl's friendly regard. +He abandoned the weather and said somewhat abruptly:-- + +"Rita, if I offended you to-night, I am sorry. I cannot tell you all the +pain I feel. When you dropped the handkerchief behind me, I thought--I +know I was wrong and should have known better at the time--but I +thought--" + +"Oh, Dic," she softly interrupted, still smoothing the grass with her +foot, "I am not offended; it is you." + +Had the serene yellow moon burst into a thousand blazing suns, Dic could +not have been more surprised. + +"Rita, do you mean it? Do you really mean it?" he asked. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"And were you afraid I was offended?" + +"Yes," again very softly. + +"And did you care?" + +"Yes," with an emphatic nod of the head. + +"And do you--" he paused, and she hesitatingly whispered:-- + +"Yes." She did not know what his question would have been; but whatever +he wished to ask, "Yes" would be her answer, so she gave it, and Dic +continued:-- + +"Do you wish me to remain for a few minutes?" + +This time the "Yes" was given by a pronounced drooping of the head, but +she took his hand for an instant that she might not possibly be +misunderstood. + +Dic hitched his horse to the fence, and, turning to Rita, said:-- + +"Shall we go over to the log by the river?" + +"Yes." Ah, how many yeses she had for him that night, and yes is a sweet +word. + +When they were seated on the log the girl waited a reasonable time for +Dic to begin the conversation. He remained silent, and soon she +concluded to take the matter temporarily in her own hands. He had begun +a moment before, but had stopped; perhaps with a little help he would +begin again. + +"I was sure you were angry," she said, "and I thought you would not +forgive me this time. I have so often given you cause to dislike me." + +"Oh, Rita, I don't believe you know that you could not make me dislike +you. When I thought that--that you did not care for me, I was so grieved +that life seemed almost worthless, but I love you so dearly, Rita--" but +that was just what he had determined never, never to tell her. He +stopped midway in his unintentional confession, surprised that the girl +did not indignantly leave him. Her heart beat wofully. Breathing +suddenly became harder work than churning. She sat demurely by his side +on the log, only too willing to listen, with a dictionary full of +"Yeses" on the end of her tongue, and he sat beside her, unable for the +moment to think. After a long pause she determined to give him a fresh +start. + +"I was in the wrong, Dic, and if you wish I'll apologize to you before +all who saw me. But I was frightened. I should not have gone into the +game. It may be right for other girls--I would not say that it is not +right--but for me, I know it would be a sin--a real sin. I am not wise, +but, Dic, something tells me that certain things cannot occupy a middle +ground. They must be holy and sacred, or they are sinful, and I--I did +not want it to--to happen then, because--because--" there she stopped +speaking. She had unintentionally used the word "then," with slight +emphasis; but slight as it was, it sent Dic's soul soaring heavenward, +buoyant with ecstasy. + +"Why, Rita, why did you not want it to happen--" he feared to say +"then," and it would seem from the new position of his arm, he also +feared she might fall backward off the log. + +"Because--because," came in soft whispers. The beautiful head was +drooped, and the face was hidden from even the birds and the moon, while +Dic's disengaged hand, out of an abundance of caution lest she might +fall, clasped hers. + +"Because--why, Rita?" he pleaded. + +Softly came the response, "Because I wanted to be alone with--with--you +when it--it happened." It happened before she had finished her sentence, +but when it was finished the head lay upon his shoulder, and the birds, +should they awaken, or the moon, or any one else, might see for aught +she cared. It was holy and sacred now, and she felt no shame: she was +proud. The transfer of herself had been made. She belonged to him, and +he, of course, must do with his own property as he saw fit. It was no +longer any affair of hers. + +The victory of complete surrender is sometimes all-conquering; at any +rate, Dic was subjugated for life. His situation was one that would be +hard to improve upon in the way of mere earthly bliss. Heaven may +furnish something better, and if it does, the wicked certainly have no +conception of what they are going to miss. Tom, for example, would never +have put buttons in the offering. Doug would not gamble and drink. Poor, +painted Nanon would starve rather than sin. Old man Jones, in the amen +corner, would not swindle his neighbor; nor would Wetmore, the Baptist, +practise the holy calling of shepherd, having in his breast the heart of +a wolf. We all, saving a woman here and there, have our sins, little and +great, and many times in the day we put in jeopardy that future bliss. +But I console myself with the hope that there is as much forgiveness in +heaven as there is sin on earth, save for the hypocrite. There may be +forgiveness even for him, but I trust not. + +I have done this bit of philosophizing that I might give Dic and Rita a +moment to themselves on the sycamore divan. You may have known the time +in your life when you were thankful for the sight of a dear friend's +back. + +There was little said between our happy couple for many minutes after +the explosion; but like a certain lady, who long ago resided for a time +in a beautiful garden, the girl soon began to tempt the man: not to eat +apples, for Rita was one of the "women here and there" spoken of above. +She was pure and sinless as the light of a star. Her tempting was of +another sort. Had Rita been Eve, there would have been no fall. + +After several efforts to speak, she said, "Now you will not go to New +York, will you?" + +"Why, Rita," he responded confidently, "of course I'll go. There is more +reason now for my going than ever before." + +"Why more now than ever before?" asked the girl. + +"Because I want money that I may support you," he responded. "I'll tell +you a great secret, Rita, but you must promise you will never tell it to +any one." + +"I promise--cross my heart," she answered, and Dic knew that wild horses +could not tear the secret from her girlish breast. + +"I'm studying law," continued Dic. "Billy Little has been buying law +books for me. They are too expensive for me to buy. He bought me +'Blackstone's Commentaries'--four large volumes." The big words tasted +good in his mouth, and were laden with sweetness and wisdom for her +ears. + +"I have read them twice," continued Dic. "He is going to buy 'Kent,' and +after that I'll take up works on pleading and special subjects. He has +consulted Mr. Switzer, and if I can save enough money to keep you and me +for two or three years in idleness, I am to go into Mr. Switzer's office +to learn the practice. It is a great and beautiful study." + +"Oh, it must be, Dic," cried the girl, delightedly. "To think that you +will be a lawyer. I have always known that you would some day be a great +man. Maybe you will be a judge, or a governor, or go to Congress." + +"That is hardly possible," responded Dic, laughing. + +"Indeed it is possible," she responded very seriously. "Anything is +possible for you--even the presidency, and I'll help you. I will not be +a millstone, Dic. I'll help you. We'll work together--and you'll see +I'll help you." + +Accordingly, she began to help him at once by putting her arm coaxingly +over his shoulder, and saying:-- + +"But if you are going to do all this you should not waste your time +leading horses to New York." + +"But you see, Rita," he responded, "I can make a lot of money by going, +and I shall see something of the world, as you heard Billy Little say." + +"Oh, you would rather see the world than me?" queried the girl, drawing +away from him with an injured air, whereupon Dic, of course, vowed that +he would rather see her face than a thousand worlds. + +"Then why don't you stay where you can see it?" she asked poutingly. + +"Because, as I told you, I want to make money so that when I go into Mr. +Switzer's office I can support you--and the others--" He stopped, +surprised by his words. + +"The others? What others?" asked the girl. That was a hard question to +answer, and he undertook it very lamely. + +"You see, Rita," he stammered, "there will be--there might--there may +be--don't you know, Rita?" + +"No, I don't know, Dic. Why are you so mysterious? What +others--who--oh!" And she hid her face upon his breast, while her arms +stole gently about his neck. + +"You see," remarked Dic, speaking softly to the black waves of lustrous +hair, "I must take Iago's advice and put money in my purse. I have +always hoped to be something more than I am. Billy Little, who has been +almost a father to me, has burned the ambition into me. But with all my +yearning, life has never held a real purpose compared with that I now +have in you. The desire for fame, Rita, the throbbing of ambition, the +lust for gold and dominion, are considered by the world to be the great +motives of human action. But, Rita, they are all simply means to one +end. There is but one great purpose in life, and that is furnished to a +man by the woman he loves. Billy Little gave me the thought. It is not +mine. How he knew it, being an old bachelor, I cannot tell." + +"Perhaps Billy Little has had the--the purpose and lost it," said Rita, +being quite naturally in a sentimental mood. + +"I wonder?" mused Dic. + +"Poor, dear old Billy Little," mused Rita. "But you will not go to New +York?" continued Miss Persistency. + +Dic had resolved, upon hearing Rita's first petition concerning the New +York trip, that he would be adamant. His resolution to go was built upon +the rock of expediency. It was best for him, best for Rita, that he +should go, and he had no respect for a poor, weak man who would permit a +woman to coax him from a clearly proper course. She should never coax +him out of doing that which was best for them both. + +"We'll discuss it at another time," he answered evasively, as he tried +to turn her face up toward him. But her face would not be turned, and +while she hid it on his breast she pushed his away, and said:-- + +"No, we'll discuss it now. You must promise me that you will not go. If +you do not, I shall not like you, and you shall not--" She did not +finish the sentence, and Dic asked gently:-- + +"I shall not--what, Rita?" + +"Anything," came the enlightening response from the face hidden on his +breast. "Besides, you will break my heart, and if you go, I'll know you +don't care for me. I'll know you have been deceiving me." Then the face +came up, and the great brown eyes looked pleadingly into his. "Dic, I've +leaned on you so long--ever since I was a child--that I have no strength +of my own; but now that I have given myself up to you, I--I cannot stand +alone, even for a day. If you go away from me now, it will break my +heart. I tell you it will." + +Dic felt her tears upon his hand, and soon he heard soft sobs and felt +their gentle convulsions within her breast. Of course the result was +inevitable; the combatants were so unevenly matched. Woman's tears are +the most potent resolvent know to chemistry. They will dissolve rocks of +resolution, and Dic's resolutions, while big with intent, were small in +flintiness, though he had thought well of them at the time they were +formed. He could not endure the pain inflicted by Rita's tears. He had +not learned how easy and useful tears are to women. They burned him. + +"Please, Rita, please don't cry," he pleaded. + +The tears, while they came readily and without pain, were honest; at any +rate, the girl being so young, they were not deliberately intended to be +useful. They were a part of her instinct of self-preservation. + +"Don't cry, please, Rita. Your tears hurt me." + +"Then promise me you won't go to New York." I fear there is no getting +away entirely from the theory of utility. With evident intent to crowd +the battle upon a wavering foe, the tears came fast and furious. + +"Promise me," sobbed Rita; and I know you will love Dic better when I +tell you that he promised. Then the girl's face came up, and, I grieve +to say, the tears, having served their purpose, ceased at once. + +Next morning Dic went to see Billy Little and told him he had come to +have a talk. Billy locked the store door and the friends repaired to the +river. There they found a shady resting-place, and Billy, lighting his +pipe, said:-- + +"Blaze away." + +"I know you will despise me," the young man began. + +"No, I won't," interrupted Billy. "You are human. I don't look for +unmixed good. If I did, I should not find it except once in a while in a +woman. What have you been doing? Go on." Billy leaned forward on his +elbows, placed the points of his fingers together, and, while waiting +for Dic to begin, hummed his favorite stanza concerning the braes of +Maxwelton. + +"Well," responded Dic, "I've concluded not to go to New York." + +Billy's face turned a shade paler as he took his pipe from his lips and +looked sadly at Dic. After a moment of scrutiny he said:-- + +"I had hoped to get you off before it happened. It's _all_ off now. You +might as well throw Blackstone into Blue." + +"What do you mean?" queried Dic. "Before what happened?" + +"Before Rita happened," responded Billy. + +"Rita?" cried Dic in astonishment. "How did you know?" + +"How do I know that spring follows winter?" asked Billy. "I had hoped +that winter would hold a little longer, and that I might get you off to +New York before spring's arrival." + +"Billy Little, you are talking in riddles," said Dic, pretending not to +understand. "Drop your metaphor and tell me what you mean." + +"You know well enough what I mean, but I'll tell you. I hoped that you +would go to New York before Rita came to you. There would have been +oceans of time after your return. She is very young, not much over +sixteen." + +"But you see, Billy Little, it was this way." + +"Oh, I know all about how it was. She cried and said you didn't care for +her, that you were breaking her heart, and wouldn't let you kiss her +till you gave her your promise. Oh, bless your soul, I know exactly how +it came about. Maxwelton's braes are um, um, um, um, yes, yes." + +"Have you seen Rita?" asked Dic, who could not believe that she would +tell even Billy of the scene on the log. + +"Of course I have not seen her. How could I? It all happened last night +after the social, and it is now only seven A.M." + +"Billy Little, I believe you are a mind reader," said Dic, musingly. + +"No, I'm not," replied Billy, with asperity. "Let's go back to the +store. You've told me all I want to know; but I don't blame you much +after all. You couldn't help it. No man could. But you'll die plowing +corn. Perhaps you'll be happier in a corn field than in a broader one. +Doubtless the best thing one can do is to drift. With all due reverence, +I am almost ready to believe that Providence made a mistake when it +permitted our race to progress beyond the pastoral age. Stick to your +ploughing, Dic. It's good, wholesome exercise, and Rita will furnish +everything else needful to your happiness." + +They walked silently back to the store. Dic, uninvited, entered and sat +down on a box. Billy distributed the morning mail and hummed Maxwelton +Braes. Then he arranged goods on the counter. Dic followed the little +old fellow with his eyes, but neither spoke. The younger man was waiting +for his friend to speak, and the friend was silent because he did not +feel like talking. He loved Dic and Rita with passionate tenderness. He +had almost brought them up from infancy, and all that was best in them +bore the stamp of his personality. Between him and Dic there was a +feeling near akin to that of father and son, but unfortunately Rita was +not a boy. Still more unfortunately the last year had added to her +already great beauty a magnetism that was almost mesmeric in its effect. +There had also been a ripening in the sweet tenderness of her gentle +manner, and if you will remember the bachelor heart of which I have +spoken, you will understand that poor Billy Little couldn't help it at +all, at all. God knows he would have helped it. The fault lay in the +girl's winsomeness; and if Billy's desire to send Dic off to New York +was not an unmixed motive, you must not blame Billy too severely. +Neither must you laugh at him; for he had the heart of a boy, and the +most boyish act in the world is to fall in love. Billy had never +misunderstood Rita's tenderness and love for him. There was no designing +coquetry in the girl. She had always since babyhood loved him, perhaps +better even than she loved her parents, and she delighted to show him +her affection. Billy had never been deceived by her preference, and of +course was careful that she should not observe the real quality of his +own regard for her. But the girl's love, such as she gave, was sweet to +him--oh, so sweet, this love of this perfect girl--and he, even he, old +and gray though he was, could not help longing for that which he knew +was as far beyond his reach as the bending rainbow is beyond the hand of +a longing child. He was more than fifty in years, but his heart was +young, and we, of course, all agree that he was very foolish +indeed--which truth he knew quite as well as we. + +So this disclosure of Dic's was a shock to Billy, although it was the +thing of all others he most desired should come to pass. + +"Are you angry, Billy Little?" asked Dic, feeling somewhat inclined to +laugh, though standing slightly in fear of his little friend. + +"Certainly not," returned Billy. "Why should I be angry? It's no affair +of mine." + +"No affair of yours, Billy Little?" asked Dic, with a touch of distress +in his voice, though he knew that it was an affair very dear to Billy's +heart. "Do you really mean it?" + +"No, of course I don't mean it," returned Billy; "but I wish you +wouldn't bother me. Don't you see I'm at work?" + +Billy's conduct puzzled Dic, as well it might, and the young man turned +his face toward the door, determined to wait till an explanation should +come unsought. + +Billy's bachelor apartment--or apartments, as he called his single +room--was back of the store. There were his bed,--a huge, mahogany +four-poster,--his library, his bath-tub, a half-dozen good pictures in +oil and copper-plate, a pair of old fencing foils,--relics of his +university days,--a piano, and a score of pipes. Under the bed was a +flat leather trunk, and on the floor a rich, though worn, velvet carpet. +Three or four miniatures on ivory rested on the rude mantel-shelf, and +in the middle of the room stood a mahogany table covered with +_Blackwood's Magazines_, pamphlets, letters, and books. In the midst of +this confusion on the table stood a pair of magnificent gold +candlesticks, each holding a half-burned candle, and over all was a +mantle of dust that would have driven a woman mad. Certainly the +contents of Billy's "apartments" was an incongruous collection to find +in a log-cabin of the wilderness. + +At the end of half an hour Billy called to Dic, saying:-- + +"I wish you would watch the store for me. I'm going to my apartments for +a bit. If Mrs. Hawkins comes in, give her this bottle of calomel and +this bundle of goods. The calomel is a fippenny bit; the goods is four +shillin', but I don't suppose she'll want to pay for them. Don't take +coonskins. I won't have coonskins. If I can't sell my goods for cash, +I'll keep 'em. Butter and eggs will answer once in a while, if the +customer is poor and has no money, but I draw the line on coonskins. The +Hawkinses always have coonskins. I believe they breed coons, but they +can't trade their odoriferous pelts to me. If she has them, tell her to +take them to Hackett's. He'll trade for fishing worms, if she has any, +and then perhaps get more than his shoddy goods are worth. Well, here's +the calomel and the goods. Get the cash or charge them. There's a letter +in the C box for Seal Coble. Give it to Mrs. Hawkins, and tell her to +hand it to Seal as she drives past his house. Tell her to read it to the +old man. He doesn't know _a_ from _x_. I doubt if Mrs. Hawkins does. But +you can tell her to read it--it will flatter her. I'll return when I'm +ready. Meantime, I don't want to be disturbed by any one. Understand?" + +"Yes," answered Dic, and the worthy merchant disappeared, locking the +door behind him. + +Billy sat down in the arm-chair, leaned his head backward, and looked at +the ceiling for a few minutes; then, resting his elbows on his knees, he +buried his face in his hands. There he sat without moving for an hour. +At the end of that time he arose, drew the trunk from under the bed, +unlocked it, and raised the lid. A woman's scarf, several bundles of +letters, two teakwood boxes, ten or twelve inches square and three or +four inches deep, beautifully mounted in gold, and a dozen books neatly +wrapped in tissue paper, made up the contents. These articles seemed to +tell of a woman back somewhere in Billy's life; and if they spoke the +truth, there must have been grief along with her for Billy. For although +he was created capable of great joy, by the same token he could also +suffer the deepest grief. + +Out of the trunk came one of the gold-mounted boxes, and out of the box +came a package of letters neatly tied with a faded ribbon. Billy lifted +the package to his face and inhaled the faint odor of lavender given +forth; then he--yes, even he, Billy Little, quaint old cynic, pressed +the dainty bundle to his lips and breathed a sigh of mingled sorrow and +relief. + +"Ah, I knew they would help me," he said. "They always do. Whatever my +troubles, they always help me." + +He opened the package, and, after carefully reading the letters, bound +them again with the ribbon, and took from the box a small ivory jewel +case, an inch cube in size. From the ivory box he took a heavy plain +gold ring and went over to the chair, where he sat in bachelor +meditation, though far from fancy free. + +Suddenly he sprang from the chair, exclaiming: "I'll do it. I'll do it. +She would wish me to--I will, I will." + +He then went back to the storeroom, loitered behind the letter-boxes a +few minutes, called Dic back to him, and said:-- + +"You are going to have one of the sweetest, best girls in all the world +for your wife," said he. "You are lucky, Dic, but she is luckier. When +you first told me of--of what happened last night, I was disappointed +because I saw your career simply knocked end over end. No man, having as +sweet a wife as Rita, ever amounted to anything, unless she happened to +be ambitious, and Rita has no more ambition than a spring violet. Such a +woman, unless she is ambitious, takes all the ambition out of a man. She +becomes sufficient for him. She absorbs his aspirations, and gives him +in exchange nothing but contentment. Of course, if she is ambitious and +sighs for a crown for him, she is apt to lead him to it. But Rita knows +how to do but one thing well--first conjugation, present infinitive, +_amare_. She knows all about that, and she will bring you mere +happiness--nothing else. By Jove, I'm sorry for you. You'll only be +happy." + +"But, Billy Little," cried Dic, "you have it wrong. Don't you see that +she will be an inspiration? She will fire me. I will work and achieve +greater things for her sake than I could possibly accomplish without +her." + +"That's why you're going to New York, is it?" asked Dic's cynical +friend. + +"Well, you know, that was her first request, and--and, you must +understand--" + +"Yes, I understand. I know she will coax you out of leaving her side +long enough to plow a corn row if you are not careful. There'll be happy +times for the weeds. Women of Rita's sort are like fire and water, Dic; +they are useful and delightful, but dangerous. No man, however wise, +knows their power. Egad! One of them would coax the face off of ye if +she wanted it, before you knew you had a face. It's their God-given +privilege to coax; but bless your soul, Dic, what a poor world this +would be without their coaxing. God pity the man who lacks it! Eh, Dic?" +Billy was thinking of his own loneliness. + +"Rita certainly knows how to coax," replied Dic. "And--and it is very +pleasant." + +"Have you an engagement ring for her?" asked Billy. + +"No," responded Dic, "I can't afford one now, and Rita doesn't expect +it. After I'm established in the law, I'll buy her a beautiful ring." + +"After you're established in the law! If the poor girl waits for +that--but she shan't wait. I have one here," said Billy, drawing forth +the ivory box. "I value it above all my possessions." His voice broke +piteously. "It is more precious to me ... than words can ... tell or ... +money can buy. It brought me ... my first great joy ... my first great +grief. I give it to you, Dic, that you may give it to Rita. Egad! I +believe I've taken a cold from the way my eyes water. There, there, +don't thank me, or I'll take it back. Now, I want to be alone. Damme, I +say, don't thank me. Get out of here, you young scoundrel; to come in +here and take my ring away from me! Jove! I'll have the law on you, the +law! Good-by." + +"I fear I should not have given them the ring," mused Billy when Dic had +gone.... "It might prove unlucky.... It came back to me because she was +forced to marry another.... I wonder if it will come back to Dic? +Nonsense! It is impossible.... Nothing can come between them.... But it +was a fatal ring for me.... I am almost sorry ... but it can bring no +trouble to Dic and Rita ... impossible. But I am almost sorry ... go +off, Billy Little; you are growing soft and superstitious ... but it +would break her heart. I wonder ... ah! nonsense. Maxwelton's braes are +bonny, um, um, um, um, um, um." And Billy first tried to sing his grief +away, then sought relief from his beloved piano. + + + + +THE FIGHT BY THE RIVER SIDE + +CHAPTER VI + +THE FIGHT BY THE RIVER SIDE + + +Deep in the forest on the home path, Dic looked at the ring, and quite +forgot Billy Little, while he anticipated the pleasure he would take in +giving the golden token to Rita. He did not intend to be selfish, but +selfishness was a part of his condition. A great love is, and should be, +narrowing. + +That evening Dic walked down the river path to Bays's and, as usual, sat +on the porch with the family. Twenty-four hours earlier sitting on the +porch with the family would have seemed a delightful privilege, and the +moments would have been pleasure-winged. But now Mrs. Bays's profound +and frequently religious philosophizing was dull compared to what might +be said on the log down by the river bank. + +Tom, of course, talked a good deal. Among other things he remarked to +Dic:-- + +"I 'lowed you'd never come back here again after the way Rita treated +you last night." Of course he did not know how exceedingly well Rita had +treated Dic last night. + +"Oh, that was nothing," returned Dic. "Rita was right. I hope she will +always--always--" The sentence was hard to finish. + +"You hope she'll always treat you that-a-way?" asked Tom, derisively. "I +bet if you had her alone she wouldn't be so hard to manage--would you, +Rita?" Tom thought himself a rare wit, and a mistake of that sort makes +one very disagreeable. Rita's face burned scarlet at Tom's witticism, +and Mrs. Bays promptly demanded of her daughter:-- + +"What on earth are you talking about?" Poor Rita had not been talking at +all, and therefore made no answer. The demand was then made of Tom, but +in a much softer tone of voice:-- + +"Tell me, Tom," his mother asked. + +"I'll not tell you. Rita and Dic may, but I'll not. I'm no tell-tale." +No, not he! + +The Chief Justice turned upon Rita, looked sternly over her glasses, and +again insisted:-- + +"What have you been doing, girl? Tell me at once. I command you by the +duty you owe your mother." + +"I can't tell you, mother. Please don't ask," replied Rita, hanging her +head. + +"You can tell me, and you shall," cried the fond mother. + +"I can't tell you, mother, and I won't. Please don't ask." + +"Do my ears deceive me? You refuse to obey your parents? 'Obey thy +father and thy mother that thy days may be long'--" + +Tom interrupted her: "Oh, mother, for goodness' sake, quit firing that +quotation at Rita. I'm sick of it. If it's true, I ought to have died +long ago. I don't mind you. Never did. Never will." + +"Yes, you do, Tom," answered his mother, meekly. "And this disobedient +girl shall mind me, too." Rita had never in all her life disobeyed a +command from either father or mother. She was obedient from habit and +inclination, and in her guileless, affectionate heart believed that a +terrific natural cataclysm of some sort would surely occur should she +even think of disobeying. + +With ostentatious deliberation Mrs. Bays folded her knitting and placed +it on the floor beside her; took off her spectacles, put them in the +case, and put the case in her pocket. Rita knew her mother was clearing +the decks for action and that Justice was coldly arranging to have its +own. So great was the girl's love and fear for this hard woman that she +trembled as if in peril. + +"Now, Margarita Fisher Bays," the Chief Justice began, glaring at the +trembling girl. When on the bench she addressed her daughter by her full +name in long-drawn syllables, and Rita's full name upon her mother's +lips meant trouble. But at the moment Mrs. Bays began her address from +the bench Billy Little came around the corner of the house and stopped +in front of the porch. + +Tom said, "Hello, Billy Little," Mr. Bays said, "Howdy," and Mrs. Bays +said majestically: "Good evening, Mr. Little. You have come just in time +to see the ungratefullest creature the world can produce--a disobedient +daughter." + +"I can't believe that you have one," smiled Billy. + +Rita's eyes flashed a look of gratitude upon her friend. Dic might not +be able to understand the language of those eyes, but Billy knew their +vocabulary from the smallest to the greatest word. + +"I wouldn't believe it either," said Mrs. Bays, "if I had not just heard +her say it with my own ears." + +"Did she say it with your own ears?" interrupted Tom. + +"Now, Tom, please don't interrupt, my son," said Mrs. Bays. "She said to +her own mother, Mr. Little, 'I won't;' said it to her own mother who has +toiled and suffered and endured for her sake all her life long; to her +own mother who has nursed her and watched over her and tried to do her +duty according to the poor light that God has vouchsafed--and--and I've +been troubled with my heart all day." + +Rita, poor girl, had been troubled with her heart many days. + +"Yes, with my heart," continued the dutiful mother. "Dr. Kennedy says I +may drop any moment." (Billy secretly wished that Kennedy had fixed the +moment.) "And when I asked her to tell me what she did last night at the +social, she answered, 'I can't and won't.' I should have known better +than to let her go. She hasn't sense enough to be let out of my sight. +She lied to me about the social, too. She pretended that she did not +want to go, and she did want to go." That was the real cause of Mrs. +Margarita's anger. She suspected she had been duped into consenting, and +the thought had rankled in her heart all day. + +"You did want to go, didn't you?" snapped out the old woman. + +"Yes, mother, I did want to go," replied Rita. + +"There, you hear for yourself, Mr. Little. She lied to me, and now is +brazen enough to own up to it." + +Tom thought the scene very funny and laughed boisterously. Had Tom been +scolded, Rita would have wept. + +"Go it, mother," said Tom. "This is better than a jury trial." + +"Oh, Tom, be still, son!" said Mrs. Bays, and then turning to Rita: "Now +you've got to tell me what happened at Scott's social. Out with it!" + +Rita and Dic were sitting near each other on the edge of the porch. Mr. +Bays and Tom occupied rocking-chairs, and Billy Little was standing on +the ground, hat in hand. + +"Tell me this instant," cried Mrs. Bays, rising from her chair and going +over to the girl, who shrank from her in fear. "Tell me, or +I'll--I'll--" + +"I can't, mother," the girl answered tremblingly. "I can't tell you +before all these--these folks. I'll tell you in the house." + +"You went into the kissing game. That's what you did," cried Mrs. Bays, +"and your punishment shall be to confess it before Mr. Little." Rita +began to weep, and answered gently:-- + +"Yes, mother, I did, but I did not--did not--" A just and injured wrath +gathered on the face of Justice. + +"Didn't I command you not?" + +"I'll tell you all about it, Mrs. Bays," interrupted Dic. "I coaxed her +to go in." (Rita's heart thanked him for the lie.) "The others all +insisted. One of the boys dragged her to the centre of the room and she +just had to go into the game. She only remained a short time, and what +Tom referred to is this: she would not allow any one to--to kiss her, +and she quit the game when she--she refused me." + +"She quit the game when it quit, I 'low. Isn't that right?" asked the +inquisitor. + +"The game stopped when she went out--" + +"I thought as much," replied Mrs. Bays, straightening up for the purpose +of delivering judgment. "Now go to bed at once, you disobedient, +indecent girl! I'm ashamed of you, and blush that Mr. Little should know +your wickedness." + +"Oh, please let me stay," sobbed Rita, but Mrs. Bays pointed to the door +and Rita rose, gave one glance to Dic, and went weeping to her room. Mr. +Bays said mildly:-- + +"Margarita, you should not have been so hard on the girl." + +"Now, Tom Bays," responded the strenuous spouse, "I'll thank you not to +meddle with my children. I know my duty, and I'll do it. Lord knows I +wish I could shirk it as some people do, but I can't. I must do my duty +when the Lord is good enough to point it out, or my conscience will +smite me. There's many a person with my heart would sit by and let her +child just grow up in the wilderness like underbrush; but I _must_ do +my duty, Mr. Little, in the humble sphere in which Providence has placed +me. Give every man his just dues, and do my duty. That's all I know, Mr. +Little. 'Justice to all and punishment for sinners;' that's my motto and +my husband will tell you I live up to it." She looked for confirmation +to her spouse, who said regretfully:-- + +"Yes, I must say that's true." + +"There," cried triumphant Justice. "You see, I don't boast. I despise +boasting." She took up her knitting, put on her glasses, closed her +lips, and thus announced that court was also closed. + +Poor Rita, meantime, was sobbing, upstairs at her window. + +After a long, awkward silence, Billy Little addressed Dic. "I came up to +spend the night with you, and if you are going home, I'll walk and lead +my horse. I suppose you walked down?" + +"Yes," answered Dic; "I'll go with you." + +"I'm sorry to carry off your company, Mrs. Bays," said Billy, "but I +want to--" + +"Oh, Dic's no company; he's always here. I don't know where he finds +time to work. I'd think he'd go to see the girls sometimes." + +"Rita's a girl, isn't she?" asked Billy, glancing toward Dic. + +"Rita's only a child, and a disobedient one at that," replied Mrs. Bays, +but Billy's words put a new thought into her head that was almost sure +to cause trouble for Rita. + +When Billy and Dic went around the house to fetch Billy's horse, Rita +was sitting at the window upstairs. She smiled through her tears and +tossed a note to Dic, which he deciphered by the light of the moon. It +was brief, "Please meet me to-morrow at the step-off--three o'clock." + +The step-off was a deep hole in the river halfway between Bays's and +Bright's. + +Dic and Billy walked up the river path a little time in silence. Billy +was first to speak. + +"I consider," said he, "that profane swearing is vulgar, but I must say +damn that woman. What an inquisitor she would make. I hope Kennedy is +right about her heart. Think of her as your mother-in-law!" + +"When Rita is my wife," replied Dic, "I'll protect her, if I have +to--to--" + +"What will you do, Dic?" asked Billy. "Such a woman is utterly +unmanageable. You see, the trouble is, that she believes in herself and +is honest by a species of artificial sincerity. Show me a stern, hard +woman who is bent on doing her duty, her whole duty, and nothing but her +duty, and I'll show you a misery breeder. Did you give Rita the ring?" + +"I haven't had the chance," answered Dic. "I'll do it to-morrow. Billy +Little, I want to thank you--you must let me tell you what I think, or +I'll burst." + +"Burst, then," returned Billy. "I'd rather be kicked than thanked. I +knew how Rita and you would feel, or I should not have given you the +ring. Do you suppose I would have parted with it because of a small +motive? Have you told the Chief Justice?" + +"No; she will learn when she sees the ring on Rita's finger." + +Silence then ensued, which was broken after a few minutes by Billy +Little humming under his breath, "Maxwelton's braes are bonny." Dic soon +joined in the sweet refrain, and, each encouraging the other, they +swelled their voices and allowed the tender melody to pour forth. I can +almost see them as they walked up the river path, now in the black +shadow of the forest, and again near the gurgling water's edge, in the +yellow light of the moon. The warm, delicious air was laden with the +odor of trees and sweetbrier, and to the song the breath of the south +wind played an accompaniment of exquisite cadence upon the leaves. I +seem to hear them singing,--Billy's piping treble, plaintive, quaint, +and almost sweet, carrying the tenor to Dic's bass. There was no +soprano. The concert was all tenor and bass, south wind, and rustling +leaves. The song helped Dic to express his happiness, and enabled Billy +to throw off the remnants of his heartache. Music is a surer antidote to +disappointment, past, present, and future, than the philosophy of all +the Stoics that ever lived; and if all who know the truth of that +statement were to read these pages, Billy Little would have many +millions of sympathizers. + +Dic did not neglect Rita's note, but read it many times after he had +lighted the candle in the loft where he and Billy were to sleep. Long +after Billy had gone to bed Dic sat up, thinking of Rita, and anon +replenishing his store of ecstasy from the full fountain of her note. +After an unreasonable period of waiting Billy said:-- + +"If you intend to sit there all night, I wish you would smother the +candle. It's filling the room with bugs. Here is a straddle-bug of some +sort that's been trying to saw my foot off." + +"In a moment, Billy Little," answered Dic. The moment stretched into +many minutes, until Billy, growing restive, threw his shoe at the candle +and felled it in darkness to the floor. Dic laughed and went to bed, and +Billy fell into so great a fit of laughter that he could hardly check +it. Neither slept much, and by sun-up Billy was riding homeward. + +That he might be sure to be on time, Dic was at the step-off by +half-past two, and five minutes later Rita appeared. The step-off was at +a deep bend in the river where the low-hanging water-elm, the redbud, +and the dogwood, springing in vast luxuriance from the rich bottom +soil, were covered by a thick foliage of wild grape-vines. + +"The river path," used only as a "horse road" and by pedestrians, left +the river at the upper bend, crossing the narrow peninsula formed by the +winding stream, and did not intrude upon the shady nook of raised ground +at the point of the peninsula next the water's edge. There was, however, +a horse path--wagon roads were few and far apart--on the opposite side +of the river. This path was little used, save by hunters, the west side +of the river being government land, and at that time a vast stretch of +unbroken forest. Rita had chosen the step-off for her trysting-place +because of its seclusion, and partly, perhaps, for the sake of its +beauty. She and Dic could be seen only from the opposite side of the +river, and she thought no one would be hunting at that time of the year. +The pelts of fur-giving animals taken then were unfit for market. +Venison was soft, and pheasants and turkeys were sitting. There would be +nothing she would wish to conceal in meeting Dic; but the instinct of +all animate nature is to do its love-making in secret. + +"Oh, Dic," said the girl, after they were seated on a low, rocky bench +under a vine-covered redbud, "oh, Dic, I did so long to speak to you +last night. After what happened night before last--it seems ages ago--I +have lived in a dream, and I wanted to talk to you and assure myself +that it is all true and real." + +"It is as real as you and I, Rita, and I have brought you something that +will always make you know it is real." + +"Isn't it wonderful, Dic?" said the girl, looking up to him with a +childish wistfulness of expression that would always remain in her eyes. +"Isn't it wonderful that this good fortune has come to me? I can hardly +realize that it is true." + +"Oh, but I am the one to whom the good fortune has really come," +replied Dic. "You are so generous that you give me yourself, and that is +the richest present on earth." + +"Ah, but you are so generous that you take me. I cannot understand it +all yet; I suppose I shall in time. But what have you brought that will +make me know it is all real?" + +Dic then brought forth the ivory box and held it behind him. + +"Oh, what is it?" cried the girl, eagerly. + +"Give me your hand," commanded Dic. The hand was promptly surrendered. + +"Now close your eyes," he continued. The eyes were closed, very, very +honestly. Rita knew no other way of doing anything, and never so much as +thought of peeping. Then Dic lifted the soft little hand to his lips, +and slipped the gold band on the third finger. + +"Oh, I know what it is now," she cried delightedly, but she would not +look till Dic should say "open." "Open" was said, and the girl +exclaimed:-- + +"Oh, Dic, where did you get it?" + +Bear this fact in mind: If you live among the trees, the wild flowers, +and the birds, you will always remain a child. Rita was little more than +a child in years, and I know you will love Dic better because within his +man's heart was still the heart of his childhood. The great oak of the +forest year by year takes on its encircling layer of wood, but the +layers of a century still enclose the heart of a sprig that burst forth +upon a spring morning from its mother acorn. + +For a moment after Rita asked Dic where he got the ring he regretted he +had not bought it, but he said:-- + +"Billy Little gave it to me that I might give it to you; so it really is +his present." + +A shade of disappointment spread over her face, but it lasted only a +moment. + +"But you give it to me," she said. "It was really yours, and you give it +to me. I am almost glad it comes from Billy Little. He has been so much +to me. You are by nature different from other men, but the best +difference we owe to Billy Little." The pronoun "we" was significant. It +meant that she also was Billy Little's debtor for the good he had +brought to Dic, since now that wonderful young man belonged to her. + +"I wonder where he got it?" asked the girl. + +"I don't know," replied Dic. "He said he valued it above all else he +possessed, and told me it had brought him his sweetest joy and his +bitterest grief. I think he gave it to a sweetheart long years ago, and +she was compelled to return it and to marry another man. I am only +guessing. I don't know." + +"Perhaps we had better not keep it," returned the girl, with a touch of +her forest-life superstition. "It might bring the same fate to us. I +could not bear it, Dic, now. I should die. Before you spoke to +me--before that night of Scott's social--it would have been hard enough +for me to--to--but now, Dic, I couldn't bear to lose you, nor to marry +another. I could not; indeed, I could not. Let us not keep the ring." + +Dic's ardor concerning the ring was dampened, but he said:-- + +"Nonsense, Rita, you surprise me. Nothing can come between us." + +"I fear others have thought the same way. Perhaps Billy Little and his +sweetheart"--she was almost ready for tears. + +"Yes, but what can come between us? Your parents, I hope, won't object. +Mine won't, and we don't--do we?" said Dic, argumentatively. + +"Ah," answered Rita with her lips, but her eyes, whose language Dic was +beginning to comprehend, said a great deal more than can be expressed in +mere words. + +"Then what save death can separate us?" asked Dic. "We would offend +Billy Little by returning the ring, and it looks pretty on your finger. +Don't you like it, Rita?" + +"Y-e-s," she responded, her head bent doubtingly to one side, as she +glanced down at the ring. + +"You don't feel superstitious about it, do you?" he asked. + +"N-o-o." + +"Then we'll keep it, won't we?" + +"Y-e-s." + +He drew the girl toward him and she turned her face upward. + +He would have kissed her had he not been startled by a call from the +opposite side of the river. + +"Here, here, stop that. That'll never do. Too fine-haired and modest for +a kissing game, but mighty willin' when all alone. We'll come over and +get into the game ourselves." + +Dic and Rita looked up quickly and saw the huge figure of Doug Hill +standing on the opposite bank with a gun over his shoulder and a bottle +of whiskey in his uplifted hand. By his side was his henchman, Patsy +Clark. The situation was a trying one for Dic. He could not fight the +ruffian in Rita's presence, and he had no right to tell him to move on. +So he paid no attention to Doug's hail, and in a moment that worthy +Nimrod passed up the river. Dic and Rita were greatly frightened, and +when Doug passed out of sight into the forest they started home. They +soon reached the path and were walking slowly down toward Bays's, when +they were again startled by the disagreeable voice of the Douglas. This +time the voice came from immediately back of them, and Dic placed +himself behind Rita. + +"I've come to get my kiss," said Doug, laughing boisterously. He was +what he called "full"; not drunk, but "comfortable," which meant +uncomfortable for those who happened to be near him. "I've come for my +kiss," he cried again. + +[Illustration: "'I'VE COME TO GET MY KISS,' SAID DOUG."] + +"You'll not get it," answered Rita, who was brave when Dic was between +her and her foe. Dic, wishing to avoid trouble, simply said, "I guess +not." + +"Oh, you guess not?" said Doug, apparently much amused. "You guess not? +Well, we'll see, Mr. Fine-hair; we'll see." Thereupon, he rested his gun +against a tree, stepped quickly past Dic, and seized Rita around the +waist. He was drawing her head backward to help himself when Dic knocked +him down. Patsy Clark then sprang upon Dic, and, in imitation of his +chief, fell to the ground. Doug and Patsy at once rose to their feet and +rushed toward Dic. Rita screamed, as of course any right-minded woman +would have done, and, clasping her hands in terror, looked on fascinated +and almost paralyzed. Patsy came first and again took a fall. This time, +from necessity or inclination,--probably the latter,--he did not rise, +but left the drunken Douglas to face Dic single-handed and alone. Though +tall and strong, Dic was by no means the equal of Doug in the matter of +bulk, and in a grappling match Doug could soon have killed him. Dic +fully understood this, and, being more active than his huge foe, +endeavored to keep him at arm's length. In this he was successful for a +time; but at last the grapple came, and both men fell to the +ground--Doug Hill on top. Poor Rita was in a frenzy of terror. She could +not even scream. She could only press her hands to her heart and look. +When Dic and Doug fell to the ground, Patsy Clark, believing himself +safe, rose to a sitting posture, and Doug cried out to him:-- + +"Give me your knife, Patsy, give me your knife." Patsy at once responded +by placing his hunting-knife in Doug's left hand. Dic saw his imminent +danger and with his right hand clasped Doug's left wrist in a grasp +that could not be loosened. After several futile attempts to free his +wrist, Doug tossed the knife over to his right side. It fell a few +inches beyond his reach, and he tried to grasp it. Rita saw that very +soon he would reach the knife, and Dic's peril brought back her presence +of mind. Doug put forth terrific efforts to reach the knife, and, +despite Dic's resistance, soon had it in his grasp. In getting the +knife, however, Doug gave Dic an opportunity to throw him off, and he +did so, quickly springing to his feet. Doug was on his feet in a +twinkling, and rushed upon Dic with uplifted knife. Dic knew that he +could not withstand the rush, and thought his hour had come; but the +sharp crack of a rifle broke the forest silence, and the knife fell from +Doug's nerveless hand, his knees shook under him, his form quivered +spasmodically for a moment, and he plunged forward on his face. Dic +turned and saw Rita standing back of him, holding Doug's rifle to her +shoulder, a tiny curl of blue smoke issuing from the barrel. The girl's +face turned pale, the gun fell from her hands, her eyes closed, and she +would have fallen had not Dic caught her in his arms. He did not so much +as glance at Doug, but at once carried the unconscious Rita home with +all the speed he could make. + +"Now for goodness' sake, what has she been doing?" cried Mrs. Bays, as +Dic entered the front door with his almost lifeless burden. "That girl +will be the death of me yet." + +"She has fainted," replied Dic, "and I fear she's dead." + +With a wild scream Mrs. Bays snatched Rita from Dic's arms in a frenzy +of grief that bore a touch of jealousy. In health and happiness Rita for +her own good must bow beneath the rod; but in sickness or in death Rita +was her child, and no strange hand should minister to her. A blessed +philosopher's stone had for once transmuted her hard, barren sense of +justice to glowing love. She carried the girl into the house and applied +restoratives. After a little time Rita breathed a sigh and opened her +eyes. Her first word was "Dic!" + +"Here I am, Rita," he softly answered, stepping to her bedside and +taking her hand. Mrs. Bays, after her first inquiry, had asked no +questions, and Dic had given no information. After Rita's return to +consciousness tears began to trickle down her mother's furrowed cheek, +and, ashamed of her weakness, she left the room. Dic knelt by Rita's bed +and kissed her hands, her eyes, her lips. His caresses were the best of +all restoratives, and when Mrs. Bays returned, Rita was sitting on the +edge of the bed, Dic's arm supporting her and her head resting on his +shoulder. Mrs. Bays came slowly toward them. The girl's habitual fear of +her mother returned, and lifting her head she tried to move away from +Dic, but he held her. Mrs. Bays reached the bedside and stood facing +them in silence. The court of love had adjourned. The court of justice +was again in session. She snatched up Rita's hand and pointed to the +ring. + +"What is that?" she asked sternly. + +"That is our engagement ring," answered Dic. "Rita has promised to be my +wife." + +"Never!" cried the old woman, out of the spirit of pure antagonism. +"Never!" she repeated, closing her lips in a spasm of supposed duty. +Rita's heart sank, and Dic's seemed heavier by many pounds than a few +moments before, though he did not fear the apostle of justice and duty +as did Rita. He hoped to marry Rita at once with her mother's consent; +but if he could not have that, he would wait until the girl was +eighteen, when she could legally choose for herself. Out of his +confidence came calmness, and he asked, + +"Why shall not Rita be my wife? She shall want for nothing, and I will +try to make her happy. Why do you object?" + +"Because--because I do," returned Mrs. Bays. + +"In so important a matter as this, Mrs. Bays, 'because' is not a +sufficient reason." + +"I don't have to give you a reason," she answered sharply. + +"You are a good woman, Mrs. Bays," continued Dic, with a deliberate and +base intent to flatter. "No man or woman has ever had injustice at your +hands, and I, who am almost your son, ask that justice which you would +not refuse to the meanest person on Blue." + +The attack was unfair. Is it ever fair to gain our point by flattering +another's weakness? Dic's statement of the case was hard to evade, so +Mrs. Margarita answered:-- + +"The girl's too young to marry. I'll never consent. I'll have nothing of +the sort going on, for a while at any rate; give him back the ring." + +Rita slipped the ring from her finger and placed it in Dic's hand. + +"Now tell me," Mrs. Bays demanded, "how this came about? How came Rita +to faint?" + +Rita hung her head and began to weep convulsively. + +"Rita and I," answered Dic, "were walking home down the river path. We +had been sitting near the step-off. Doug Hill and Patsy Clark came up +behind us, and Doug tried to kiss Rita. I interfered, and we fought. He +was about to kill me with Patsy's hunting-knife when--when--when I shot +him. Then Rita fainted, and I feared she was dead, so I brought her home +and left Doug lying on his face, with Patsy Clark standing over him." + +Rita so far recovered herself as to be able to say:-- + +"No, mother, I killed him." + +"You," shrieked Mrs. Bays, "you?" + +"Yes," the girl replied. + +"Yes," replied Dic to Mrs. Bays's incredulous look, "that was the way of +it, but I was the cause, and I shall take the blame. You had better not +speak of this matter to any one till we have consulted Billy Little. I +can bear the blame much better than Rita can. When the trial comes, you +and Rita say nothing. I will plead guilty to having killed Doug Hill, +and no questions will be asked." + +"If you will do it, Dic, if you will do it," wailed Mrs. Bays. + +"I certainly will," returned Dic. + +"No, you shall not," said Rita. + +"You must be guided by your mother and me," replied Dic. "I know what is +best, and if you will do as we direct, all may turn out better than we +now hope. He was about to kill me, and I had a right to kill him. I do +not know the law certainly, but I fear you had no right to kill him in +my defence. I have read in the law books that a man may take another's +life in the defence of one whom he is bound to protect. I fear you had +no right to kill Doug Hill for my sake." + +"I had, oh, I had!" sobbed Rita. + +"But you will be guided by your mother and me, will you not, Rita?" +Despite fears of her mother, the girl buried her face on Dic's breast, +and entwining her arms about his neck whispered:-- + +"I will be guided by you." + +Dic then arose and said: "It may be that Doug is not dead. I will take +one of your horses, Mrs. Bays, and ride to town for Dr. Kennedy." + +Within ten minutes Dic was with Billy Little, telling him the story. +"I'm going for Kennedy," said Dic. "Saddle your horse quickly and ride +up with us." + +Five minutes later, Dic, Kennedy, and Billy Little were galloping +furiously up the river to the scene of battle. When they reached it, +Doug, much to Dic's joy, was seated leaning against a tree. His shirt +had been torn away, and Patsy was washing the bullet wound in the breast +and back, for the bullet had passed entirely through Doug's body. + +"Well, he's not dead yet," cried Kennedy. "So far, so good. Now we'll +see if I can keep from killing him." + +While the doctor was at work Dic took Billy to one side. "I told Mrs. +Bays and Rita not to speak about this affair," he said. "I will say upon +the trial that I fired the shot." + +"Why, Dic, that will never do." + +"Yes, it will; it must. You see, I had a good right to kill him, but +Rita had not. At any rate, don't you know that they might as well kill +Rita at once as to try her? She couldn't live through a trial for +murder. It would kill her or drive her insane. I'll plead guilty. That +will stop all questioning." + +"Yes," replied Billy, deep in revery, and stroking his chin; "perhaps +you are right. But how about Hill and Clark? They will testify that Rita +did the shooting." + +"No one will have the chance to testify if I plead guilty," said Dic. + +"And if Doug should die, you may hang or go to prison for life on a mere +unexplained plea of guilty. That shall never happen with my consent." + +"Billy Little, you can't prevent it. I'll make a plea of guilty," +responded Dic, sharply; "and if you try to interfere, I'll never speak +your name again, as God is my help." + +Billy winced. "No wonder she loves you," he said. "I'll not interfere. +But take this advice: say nothing till we have consulted Switzer. Don't +enter a plea of guilty. You must be tried. I believe I have a plan that +may help us." + +"What is it, Billy Little?" asked Dic, eagerly. + +"I'll not tell you now. Trust me for a time without questions, Dic. I am +good for something, I hope." + +"You are good for everything concerning me, Billy Little," said Dic. "I +will trust you and ask no questions." + +"Little," said Kennedy, "if you will make a stretcher of boughs we will +carry Hill up to Bright's house and take him home in a wagon. I think he +may live." Accordingly, a rude litter was constructed, and the four men +carried the wounded Douglas to Dic's house, where he was placed upon a +couch of hay in a wagon, and taken to his home, two or three miles +eastward. + +On the road over, Billy Little asked Dr. Kennedy to lead his horse while +he talked to Patsy Clark, who was driving in the wagon. + +"How did Dic happen to shoot him?" asked Billy when he was seated beside +Patsy. + +"D-Dic d-di-didn't shoot him. Ri-ta did," stuttered Doug's henchman. + +"No, Patsy, it was Dic," said Billy Little. + +"I-I re-reckon I or-orter know," stammered Patsy. "I-I was there and +s-saw it. You wasn't." + +"You're wrong, Patsy," insisted Billy. + +"B-by Ned, I re-reckon I know," he returned. + +"Now listen to me, Patsy," said Billy, impressively. "I say you are +wrong, and--by the way, Patsy, I want you to do a few little odd jobs +about the store for the next month or so. I'll not need you frequently, +but I should like to have you available at any time. If you will come +down to the store, I will pay you twenty dollars wages in advance, and +later on I will give you another twenty. You are a good fellow, and I +want to help you; but I am sure you are wrong in this case. I know it +was Dic who fired the shot. Now, think for a moment. Wasn't it Dic?" + +"We-well, c-come to think a-a-about it, I believe you're right. Damned +if I don't. He t-tuk the gun and jes' b-b-blazed away." + +"I knew that was the way of it," said Billy, quietly. + +"B-betch yur life it was jes' that-a-way. H-how the h----did you know?" + +"Dic told me," answered Billy. + +"Well, that-a-a-a-way was the way it was, sure as you're alive." + +"You're sure of it now, Patsy, are you?" + +"D-dead sure. Wa-wa-wasn't I there and d-d-didn't I see it all? Yes, +sir, d-d-dead sure. And the tw-twenty dollars? I'll g-get it to-morrow, +you say?" + +"Yes." + +"A-and the other t-t-twenty? I'll get it later, eh?" + +"You can trust me, can't you, Patsy?" queried Billy. + +"B-betch yur life I can. E-e-e-everybody does. B-but how much later?" + +"When it is all over," answered Billy. + +"A-all right," responded his stuttering friend. + +"But," asked Billy, "if Doug recovers, and should think as you did at +first, that Rita fired the shot?" + +"Sa-sa-say, B-Billy Little, you couldn't make it another t-t-twenty +later on for that ere job about the st-store, could ye?" + +"I think I can," returned Billy. + +"Well, then, Doug'll g-get it straight--never you f-f-fear. He was crazy +drunk and ha-ha-half blind with blood where Dic knocked him, and he +didn't know who f-f-fired the shot." + +"But suppose he should know?" + +"B-but he won't know, I-I tell ye. I-I t-trust you; c-can't you trust +Patsy? I-I'm not as big a f-fool as I look. I-I let p-people think I'm a +fool because when p-people think you're a f-fool, it's lots easier +t-t-to work 'em. See?" + + * * * * * + +Billy left Doug hovering between life and death, and hurried back to +Dic. "Patsy says you took the gun from where it was leaning against the +tree and shot Hill. I suppose he doesn't know exactly how it did +happen. I told him you said that was the way of it, and he assents. He +says Doug doesn't know who fired the shot. We shall be able to leave +Rita entirely out of the case, and you may, with perfect safety, enter a +plea of self-defence." + +Dic breathed a sigh of relief and longed to thank Billy, but dared not, +and the old friend rode homeward unthanked but highly satisfied. + +On the way home Billy fell into deep thought, and the thoughts grew into +mutterings: "Billy Little, you are coming to great things. A briber, a +suborner of perjury, a liar. I expect soon to hear of you stealing. +Burglary is a profitable and honorable occupation. Go it, Billy +Little.--And for this you came like a wise man out of the East to leaven +the loaf of the West--all for the sake of a girl, a mere child, whom you +are foolish enough to--nonsense--and for the sake of the man she is to +marry." Then the grief of his life seemed to come back to him in a +flood, and he continued almost bitterly: "I don't believe I have led an +evil life. I don't want to feel like a Pharisee; but I don't recollect +having injured any man or woman in the whole course of my miserable +existence, yet I have missed all that is best in life. Even when I have +not suffered, my life has been a pale, tasteless blank with nothing but +a little poor music and worse philosophy to break the monotony. The +little pleasure I have had from any source has been enjoyed alone, and +no joy is complete unless one may give at least a part of it to another. +If one has a pleasure all to himself, he is apt to hate it at times, and +this is one of the times. Billy Little, you must be suffering for the +sins of an ancestor. I wonder what he did, damn him." + +This mood was unusual for Billy. In his youth he had been baptized with +the chrism of sorrow and was safe from the devil of discontent. He was +by nature an apostle of sunshine; but when we consider all the facts, I +know you will agree with me that he had upon this occasion good right +to be a little cloudy. + +That evening Dic was arrested and held in jail pending Doug Hill's +recovery or death. Should Douglas die, Dic would be held for murder and +would not be entitled to bail. In case of conviction for premeditated +murder, death or imprisonment for life would be his doom. If Doug should +recover, the charge against Dic would be assault and battery, with +intent to commit murder, conviction for which would mean imprisonment +for a term of years. If self-defence could be established--and owing to +the fact that neither Dic nor Rita was to testify, that would be +difficult to accomplish--Dic would go free. These enormous "ifs" +complicated the case, and Dic was detained in jail till Doug's fate +should be known. + + + + +THE TRIAL + +CHAPTER VII + +THE TRIAL + + +I shall not try to tell you of Rita's suffering. She wept till she could +weep no more, and the nightmare of suspense settled on her heart in the +form of dry-eyed suffering. She could not, even for a moment, free her +mind from the fact that Dic was in jail and that his life was in peril +on account of her act. Billy went every day to encourage her and to keep +her silent by telling her that Dic would be cleared. Mrs. Bays +prohibited her from visiting the jail; but, despite Rita's fear of her +mother, the girl would have gone had not Dic emphatically forbidden. + +Doug recovered, and, court being then in session, Dic's trial for +assault and battery, with intent to commit murder, came up at once. I +shall not take you through the tedious details of the trial, but will +hasten over such portions as closely touch the fate of our friends. + +Upon the morning of Dic's arraignment he was brought into court and the +jury was empanelled. Rita had begged piteously to go to the trial, but +for many reasons that privilege was denied. The bar was filled with +lawyers, and the courtroom was crowded with spectators. Mr. Switzer +defended Dic, who sat near him on the right hand of the judge, the +State's attorney, with Doug Hill and Patsy Clark, the prosecuting +witnesses, sitting opposite on the judge's left. The jury sat opposite +the judge, and between the State's attorney and Mr. Switzer and the +judge and the jury was an open space fifteen feet square. On a raised +platform in this vacant space was the witness chair, facing the jury. + +Doug Hill and Patsy Clark were the only witnesses for the State. The +defendant had summoned no witnesses, and Dic's fate rested in the hands +of his enemy and his enemy's henchman. + +Patsy and Doug had each done a great deal of talking, and time and again +had asserted that Dic had deliberately shot Doug Hill after the fight +was over. Mr. Switzer's only hope seemed to be to clear Dic on +cross-examination of Doug and Patsy. + +"Not one lie in a hundred can survive a hot cross-examination," he said. +"If a woman is testifying for the man she loves, or for her child, she +will carry the lie through to the end without faltering. Every instinct +of her nature comes to her help; but a man sooner or later bungles a lie +if you make him angry and keep at him." + +Doug was the first witness called. He testified that after the fight was +over Dic snatched up the gun and said, "I'm going to kill you;" that he +then fired the shot, and that afterward Doug remembered nothing. The +story, being simple, was easily maintained, and Mr. Switzer's +cross-examination failed to weaken the evidence. Should Patsy Clark +cling to the same story as successfully, the future looked dark for Dic. + +When Doug left the stand at noon recess, Billy rode up to see Rita, and +in the course of their conversation the girl discovered his fears. +Billy's dark forebodings did not affect her as he supposed they would. +He had expected tears and grief, but instead he found a strange, +unconcerned calmness that surprised and puzzled him. Soon after Billy's +departure Rita saddled her horse and rode after him. Mrs. Bays forbade +her going, but for the first time in her life the girl sullenly refused +to answer her mother, and rode away in dire rebellion. + +Court convened at one o'clock, and Patsy Clark was called to the stand. +The State's attorney began his examination-in-chief:-- + +_Question._--"State your name." + +_Answer by Patsy._--"Sh-shucks, ye know my name." + +"State your name," ordered the Court. + +_Answer._--"Pa-Pa-Patsy C-Clark." + +_Question by State's Attorney._--"Where do you live?" + +_Answer._--"North of t-t-town, with D-Doug Hill's father." + +_Question._--"Where were you, Mr. Clark, on fifth day of last month at +or near the hour of three o'clock P.M.?" + +_Answer._--"Don't know the day, b-but if you mean the d-day Doug and +D-Dic had their fight, I-I was up on B-Blue about halfway b-between Dic +Bright's house and T-Tom Bays', at the step-off." + +_Question._--"What, if anything, occurred at that time and place?" + +_Answer._--"A f-fight--damned bad one." + +_Question._--"Who fought?" + +_Answer._--"D-Doug Hill and D-Dic Bright." + +_Question._--"Now, Mr. Clark, tell the jury all you heard and saw take +place, in the presence of the defendant Dic Bright, during that fight." + +The solemnity of the Court had made a deep impression on Patsy, and he +trembled while he spoke. He was angry because the State's attorney, as +he supposed, had pretended not to know his name, whereas that self-same +State's attorney had been familiar with him prior to the election. + +"We'll get the truth out of this fellow on cross-examination," whispered +Mr. Switzer to his client. + +"Be careful not to get too much truth out of him," returned Dic. + +Patsy began his story. + +"Well, me and D-Doug was a-g-a-goin' up the west b-bank of B-Blue when +we seed--" + +_State's Attorney._--"Never mind what you saw at that time. Answer my +question. I asked you to tell all you saw and heard during the fight." + +_Answer._--"I-I w-will if you'll l-let me. J-jest you keep still a +minute and l-l-let me t-talk. I-I c-can't t-t-talk very well anyway. +C-can't talk near as well as you. B-but I can say a he-heap more. +Whe-whe-when you talk so much, ye-ye-you g-get me to st-st-st-stuttering. +S-see? Now listen to that." + +_State's Attorney._--"Well, go on." + +_Answer._--"Well, we seed Dic and Rita Bays, p-prettiest girl in the +h-h-whole world, on the op-opposite side of the river, and he wa-wa-was +a-kissin' her." + +_State's Attorney._--"Never mind that, but go ahead. Tell it your own +way." + +"I object," interposed Mr. Switzer. "The witness must confine himself to +the State's question." + +"Confine your answer to the question, Mr. Clark," commanded the Court. +Patsy was growing angry, confused, and frightened. + +_State's Attorney._--"Go on. Tell your story, can't you?" + +_Answer._--"Well, Doug, he hollered across the river and said he-he +wa-wa-wanted one hisself and would g-g-go over after it." + +_State's Attorney._--"Did you not understand my question? What did you +see and hear? What occurred during the fight?" + +_Answer._--"Well, g-good L-L-Lord! a-ain't I tryin' to t-tell ye? When +we crossed the river and g-got to the step-off, Rita and D-Dic had went +away and D-Doug and me st-started after 'em down the path toward +B-Bays's. When we g-got up t-to 'em D-Doug he says, says 'ee, 'I-I've +come for my k-kiss,' says 'ee, jes' that-a-way. 'Ye wo-won't get none,' +says Rita, says she, jes' that-a-way, and D-Dic he p-puts in and says, +says 'ee, 'I-I g-guess not,' says 'ee, jes' that-a-way. Then Doug he-he +puts his gun agin' a gum tree and g-grabs Rita about the wa-waist, +hugging her up to him ti-tight-like. Then he-he push her head back-like, +so's 'ee c-could get at her mouth, and then Dic he-he ups and knocks him +d-down. Then D-Doug he-he gets up quick-like and they clinches and +falls, and D-Doug on top. Then Doug he-he says, says 'ee to me, 'G-Give +me your n-knife, Patsy,' jes' that-a-way, and I ups and gives him my +knife, but he d-drops it and some way D-Dic he throws Doug o-off and +gets up, and Doug he picks up the knife and st-starts for Dic, lookin' +wilder 'en hell. Jes' then Rita she ups with D-Doug's gun and shoots him +right through. He-he trembled-like for a minute and his knees shuk and +he shivered all over and turned white about the mouth like he was awful +sick, and then he d-dropped on his face, shot through and through." + +The confusion in the courtroom had been growing since the beginning of +Patsy's story, and by the time he had finished it broke into an uproar. +The judge called "Order," and the sheriff rose to quiet the audience. + +_State's Attorney._--"Do you mean to say, Mr. Clark, that Rita Bays +fired the shot that wounded Douglas Hill?" + +Douglas, you remember, had just sworn that Dic fired the shot. + +_Answer._--"Yes, sir, you betch yur life that's jes' the way w-w-what I +mean to say." + +_State's Attorney._--"Now, Mr. Clark, I'll ask you if you did not tell +me and many other citizens of this community that the defendant, Dic +Bright, fired the shot?" + +"I object," cried Mr. Switzer. "The gentleman cannot impeach his own +witness." + +"You are right, Mr. Switzer," answered the Court, "unless on the ground +of surprise; but I overrule your objection. Proceed, Mr. State's +Attorney." + +"Answer my question," said that official to Patsy. + +_Answer._--"Yes, sir, I-I d-did tell you, and lots of other folks, too, +that D-Dic shot Doug Hill." + +Question.--"Then, sir, how do you reconcile those statements with the +one you have just made?" + +Answer.--"Don't try to re-re-re-reconcile 'em. Can't. I-I wa-wa-was +talkin' then. I'm sw-sw-swearin' now." + +Dic sprang to his feet, exclaiming:-- + +"If the Court please, I wish to enter a plea of guilty to the charge +against me." + +"Your plea will not be accepted," answered the Court. "I am beginning to +see the cause for the defendant's peculiar behavior in this case. Mr. +Sheriff, please subpoena Miss Rita Bays." + +Dic broke down, and buried his face in his folded arms on the table. + +The sheriff started to fetch Rita, but met her near the courthouse and +returned with her to the courtroom. She was directed to take the witness +stand, which she did as calmly as if she were taking a seat at her +father's dinner table; and her story, told in soft, clear tones, +confirmed Patsy in all essential details. + +Mr. Switzer objected to the questions put to her by the Court on the +ground that she could not be compelled to give evidence that would +incriminate herself. The judge admitted the validity of Mr. Switzer's +objection; but after a moment spent in private consultation with the +State's attorney, he said:-- + +"The State and the Court pledge themselves that no prosecution will be +instituted against Miss Bays in case her answers disclose the fact that +she shot Doug Hill." + +After Rita had told her story the judge said: "Miss Bays, you did right. +You are a strong, noble girl, and the man who gets you for a wife will +be blessed of God." + +Rita blushed and looked toward Dic, as if to say, "You hear what the +judge says?" But Dic had heard, and thought the judge wise and excellent +to a degree seldom, if ever, equalled among men. + +The judge then instructed the jury to return a verdict of not guilty, +and within five minutes Dic was a free and happy man. Billy Little did +not seem to be happy; for he, beyond a doubt, was crying, though he said +he had a bad cold and that colds always made his eyes water. He started +to sing Maxwelton's braes in open court, but remembered himself in time, +and sang mentally. + +Mrs. Bays had followed Rita; and when the girl and Dic emerged from the +courthouse door, the high court of the Chief Justice seized its daughter +and whisked her off without so much as giving her an opportunity to say +a word of farewell. Rita looked back to Dic, but she was in the hands of +the high court, which was a tribunal differing widely from the _nisi +prius_ organization she had just left, and by no means to be trifled +with. + +Dic stopped for dinner at the inn with Billy Little, and told him that +Mrs. Bays refused her consent. + +"Did you expect anything else?" asked Billy. + +"Yes, I did," answered Dic. + +"Even Rita will be valued more highly if you encounter difficulties in +getting her," replied his friend. + +"I certainly value her highly enough as it is," said Dic, "and Mrs. +Bays's opposition surprises me a little. I know quite as well as +she--better, perhaps--that I am not worthy of Rita. No man is. But I am +not lazy. I would be willing to die working for her. I am not very good; +neither am I very bad. She will make me good, and I don't see that any +one else around here has anything better to offer her. The truth is, +Rita deserves a rich man from the city, who can give her a fine house, +servants, and carriages. It is a shame, Billy Little, to hide such +beauty as Rita's under a log-cabin's roof in the woods." + +"I quite agree with you," was Billy's unexpected reply. "But I don't see +any chance for her catching that sort of a man unless her father goes in +business with Fisher at Indianapolis. Even there the field is not broad. +She might, if she lived at Indianapolis, meet a stranger from +Cincinnati, St. Louis, or the East, and might marry the house, +carriages, and servants. I understand Bays--perhaps I should say Mrs. +Bays--contemplates making the move, and probably you had better withdraw +your claim and give the girl a chance." + +Dic looked doubtingly at his little friend and said, "I think I shall +not withdraw." + +"I have not been expecting you would," answered Billy. "But what are you +going to do about the Chief Justice?" + +"I don't know. What would you do?" + +Billy Little paused before answering. "If you knew what mistakes I have +made in such matters, you would not ask advice of me." + +Dic waited, hoping that Billy would amplify upon the subject of his +mistakes, but he waited in vain. "Nevertheless," he said, "I want your +advice." + +"I have none to give," responded Billy, "unless it is to suggest in a +general way that in dealing with women boldness has always been +considered the proper article. Humility is sweet in a beautiful woman, +but it makes a man appear sheepish. The first step toward success with +all classes of persons is to gain their respect. Humility in a man won't +gain the respect of a hound pup. Face the world bravely. Egad! St. +George's little affair with the fiery dragon grows pale when one thinks +of the icy dragoness of duty and justice you must overthrow before you +can rescue Rita. But go at the old woman as if you had fought dragons +all your life. Tell her bluntly that you want Rita; that you must and +will have her, and that it is not in the power of duty and justice to +keep her from you. Be bold, and you will probably get the girl, together +with her admiration and gratitude. I guess there is no doubt they like +it--boldness. But Lord bless your soul, Dic, I don't know what they +like. I think the best thing you can do is to go to New York with +Sampson, the horse-dealer. He sails out of here in a few days, and if +you will go with him he will pay you five hundred dollars and will allow +you to take a few horses on your own account. You will double your money +if you take good horses." + +"Do you really think he would pay me five hundred dollars?" asked Dic. + +"Yes, I believe he will. I'll see him about it." + +"I believe I'll go," said Dic. "That is, I'll go if--" + +"If Rita will let you, I suppose you are going to say," remarked Billy. +"We'll name the new firm of horse-buyers Sampson and Sampson; for if you +are not mindful this gentle young Delilah will shear you." + +"I promised her I would not go. I cannot break my word. If she will +release me, I will go, and will thank you with all my heart. Billy +Little, you have done so much for me that I must--I must--" + +"There you go. 'Deed if I don't leave you if you keep it up. You have +four or five good horses, and I'll loan you five hundred dollars with +which you may buy a dozen or fifteen more. You may take twenty head of +horses on your own account, and should make by the trip fifteen hundred +or two thousand dollars, including your wages. Why, Dic, you will be +rich. Unless I am mistaken, wealth is greater even than boldness with +icy dragonesses." + +"Not with Rita." + +"You don't need help of any sort with her," said Billy. "Poor girl, she +is winged for all time. You may be bold or humble, rich or poor; it +will be all one to her. But you want to get her without a fight. You +don't know what a fight with a woman like the Chief Justice means. +Carnage and destruction to beat Napoleon. I believe if you had two +thousand dollars in gold, there would be no fight. Good sinews of war +are great peace-makers." + +"I know Rita will release me if I insist," said Dic. + +"I'm sure she will," responded his friend. + +"I will go," cried Dic, heroically determined to break the tender +shackles of Rita's welding. + +"Now you are a man again," said Billy. "You may cause her to cry a bit, +but she'll like you none the less for that. If tears caused women to +hate men, there would be a sudden stoppage in population." Billy sat +contemplative for a moment with his finger tips together. "Men are +brutes"--another pause--"but they salt the earth while women sweeten it. +Personally, I would rather sweeten the earth than salt it; but a sweet +man is like a pokeberry--sugarish, nauseating and unhealthful. My love +for sweetness has made me a failure." + +"You are not a failure, Billy Little. You are certainly of the salt of +the earth," insisted Dic. + +"A man fails when he does not utilize his capabilities to their limit," +said Billy, philosophically. "He is a success when he accomplishes all +he can. The measure of the individual is the measure of what should +constitute his success. His capabilities may be small or great; if he +but use them all, he is a success. A fishing worm may be a great success +as a fishing worm, but a total failure as a mule. Bless me, what a +sermon I have preached about nothing. I fear I am growing garrulous," +and Billy looked into the fire and hummed Maxwelton's braes. + +That evening Dic went to call on Rita and made no pretence of wishing to +see Tom. That worthy young man had served his purpose, and could never +again be a factor in Dic's life or courtship. Mrs. Bays received Dic +coldly; but Mr. Bays, in a half-timid manner, was very cordial. Dic paid +no heed to the coldness, and, after talking on the porch with the family +for a few minutes, boldly asked Rita to walk across the yard to the log +by the river. Rita gave her mother a frightened glance and hurried away +with Dic before Justice could assert itself, and the happy pair sought +the beloved sycamore divan by the river bank. + +"In the midst of all my happiness," began Rita, "I'm very unhappy +because I, in place of Patsy Clark, did not liberate you. I always +intended to tell the truth. You must have known that I would." + +"I never even hoped that you would not. I knew that when the time should +come you would not obey me," returned Dic. + +"In all else, Dic, in all else." There was the sweet, all-conquering +humility of which Billy had spoken. + +"In all else, Rita? Do you mean what you say?" + +"Yes." + +"I will put you to the test at once. For your sake and my own I should +go with Sampson to New York, and I want you to release me from my +promise. I would not ask you did I not feel that it is an opportunity +such as I may never have again. It is now July; I shall be back by the +middle of November, and then, Rita, you will go home with me, won't +you?" For answer the girl gently put her hand in his. "And you will +release me from my promise?" + +She nodded her head, and after a short silence added: "I fear I have no +will of my own. I borrow all from you. I cannot say 'no' when you wish +'yes'; I cannot say 'yes' when you wish 'no.' I fear you will despise +me, I am so cheap; but I am as I am, and it is your fault that I have so +many faults. You have made me what I am. Will it not be wonderful, Dic, +if I, who clung to your finger in my babyhood, should be led by your +hand from my cradle to--to my grave? I have never in all my life, Dic, +known any real help but yours--and some from Billy Little. So you see my +dependence upon you is excusable, and you cannot think less of me +because I am so weak." She looked up to him with a tearful smile in +which the past and the future contributed each its touch of sadness. + +"Rita, come to the house this instant!" called Mrs. Bays (to Dic her +voice sounded like a broken string in Billy Little's piano). + +Dic and Rita went to the house, and Mrs. Bays, pointing majestically to +a chair, said to her daughter:-- + +"Now, you sit there, and if you move, off to bed you go." The threat was +all-sufficient. + +Dic sat upon the edge of the porch thinking of St. George and the +dragon, and tried to work his courage up to the point of attack. He +talked ramblingly for a while to Mr. Bays; then, believing his courage +in proper form, he turned to that gentleman's better nine-tenths and +boldly began:-- + +"I want Rita, Mrs. Bays. I know I am not worthy of her" (here the girl +under discussion flashed a luminous glance of flat contradiction at the +speaker), "and I know I am asking a great deal, but--but--" But the +boldness had evaporated along with the remainder of what he had to say, +for with Dic's first words Justice dropped her knitting to her lap, took +off her glasses, and gazed at the unfortunate malefactor with an +injured, fixed, and icy stare. Dic retired in disorder; but he soon +rallied his forces and again took up the battle. + +"I'm going to New York in a few days," he said. "I will not be home till +November. I have Rita's promise. I can, if I must, be satisfied with +that; but I should like your consent before I go." Brave words, those, +to the dragoness of Justice. But she did not even look at the +presumptuous St. George. She was, as Justice should be, blind. Likewise +she appeared to be deaf. + +"May I have your consent, Mr. Bays?" asked Dic, after a long pause, +turning to Rita's father. + +"Yes," he replied, "yes, Dic, I will be glad--" Justice at the moment +recovered sight and hearing, and gazed stonily at its mate. The mate, +after a brief pause, continued in a different tone:-- + +"That is, I don't care. You and mother fix it between you. I don't know +anything about such matters." Mr. Bays leaned forward with his elbows on +his knees and examined his feet as if he had just discovered them. After +a close scrutiny he continued:-- + +"Rita's the best girl that ever lived. I don't care where you look, +there's not another like her in all the world. She has never caused me a +moment of pain--" Rita moved her chair to her father's side and took his +hand--"she has brought me nothing but happiness, and I would--" He +ceased speaking, and no one has ever known what Mr. Bays "would," for at +that interesting point in his remarks his worthy spouse interrupted +him-- + +"Nothing brings you pain. You shirk it and throw it all on me. Lord +knows the girl has brought trouble enough to me. I have toiled and +worked and suffered for her. I bear the burdens of this house, and if my +daughter is better than other girls,--I don't say she is, and I don't +say she isn't,--but if she is better than other girls, I say it is +because I have done my duty by her." + +Truth compels me to admit that she had done her duty toward the girl +with a strenuous sincerity that often amounted to cruelty, but in the +main she had done her best for Rita. + +Dic had unintentionally turned the tide of battle on Mr. Bays, and that +worthy sufferer, long used to the anguish of defeat, and dead to the +shame of cowardice, rose from his chair and beat a hasty retreat to his +old-time sanctuary, the barn. Dic did not retreat; single-handed and +alone, he took lance in hand and renewed the attack with adroit thrusts +of flattery and coaxing. After many bouts a compromise was reached and +an armistice declared between the belligerent powers until Dic should +return from New York. This armistice was virtually a surrender of the +Bays forces, so that evening when Dic started home Rita accompanied him +to the gate beneath the dark shadow of a drooping elm, and the gate's +the place for "a' that and a' that." + +Next morning bright and early Dic went to town to see Sampson, the +horse-dealer. He found him sitting on the inn porch. + +"Well, you're going to take the horses for me, after all?" asked that +worthy descendant of one of the tribes. + +"Billy Little said you would give me five hundred dollars. That is a +very large sum. You first offered me only one hundred." + +"Yes," returned Sampson; "I had a talk with Little. Horses are in great +demand in New York, and I want an intelligent man who can hurry the +drove through to Harrisburg, where I'll meet them. If we get them to New +York in advance of the other dealers, we should make a profit of one +hundred dollars a head on every good horse. You will have two other men +with you, but I will put you in charge. Don't speak of the five hundred +dollars you're to have; the others are to receive only fifty dollars +each." + +The truth is, Billy had contributed four hundred dollars of the sum Dic +was to receive, and four hundred dollars was one-tenth of all Billy's +worldly goods. + +Dic completed his arrangements with Sampson, which included the +privilege of taking twenty horses on his own account, and then, as +usual, went to see Billy Little. + +"Well, Billy Little," said Dic, joyfully, "I'm going. I've closed with +Sampson. He gives me five hundred dollars, and allows me to take twenty +horses of my own. I ought to get fine young horses at twenty-five +dollars a head." + +"Sure," answered Billy, "that would amount to--how many have you of your +own?" + +"Four," answered Dic. + +"Then you'll want to buy sixteen--four hundred dollars. Here is the +money," and he handed him a canvas shot-bag containing the gold. + +"Now, Billy Little," said Dic, "I want to give you my note for this +money, bearing the highest rate of interest." + +"All right," responded our backwoods usurer, "I'll charge you twelve per +cent. I do love a good interest. There is no Antonio about me. I'll lend +no money gratis and bring down the rate of usance. Not I." + +The note signed, Dic looked upon himself as an important factor in the +commercial world, and felt his obligation less because of the high rate +of interest he was paying. + +The young man at once began looking for horses, and within three days +had purchased sixteen "beauties," as Billy Little called them, which, +with his own, made up the number he was to take. His adventurous New +York trip raised him greatly in the estimation of Mrs. Bays. It brought +her to realize that he was a man, and it won, in a degree, her reluctant +respect. The ride over the mountains through rain and mud and countless +dangers was an adventure worthy to inspire respect. The return would be +easier than the eastward journey. Dic would return from New York to +Pittsburg by canal boat and stage. From Pittsburg, if the river should +be open, he would go to Madison by the Ohio boats. From Madison he would +come north to Columbus on the mail stage, and at Columbus he would be +within twenty-five miles of home. + +As I have told you, Mrs. Bays grew to respect Dic; and being willing to +surrender, save for the shame of defeat, she honestly kept the terms of +her armistice. Thus Rita and Dic enjoyed the sycamore divan by the +river's edge without interference. + +On the night before his departure he gave Rita the ring, saying, "This +time it is for keeps." + +"I hope so," returned the girl, with a touch of doubt in her hesitating +words. + +He spoke buoyantly of his trip and of the great things that were sure to +come out of it, and again Rita softly hoped so; but intimated in a +gentle, complaining tone of voice that something told her trouble would +come from the expedition. She felt that she was being treated badly, +though, being such a weak, selfish, unworthy person,--so she had been +taught by her mother to believe,--she deserved nothing better. Dic +laughed at her fears, and told her she was the one altogether perfect +human being. Although by insistence he brought her to admit that he was +right in both propositions, he failed to convince her in either, and she +spoke little, save in eloquent sighs, during the remainder of the +evening. + +After the eventful night of Scott's social, Rita's surrender of self had +grown in its sweetness hour by hour; and although Dic's love had also +deepened, as his confidence grew apace he assumed an air of patronage +toward the girl which she noticed, but which she considered quite the +proper thing in all respects. + +There was no abatement of his affection this last evening together, but +she was sorry to see him so joyful at leaving her. Their situation was +simply a repetition of the world-wide condition: the man with many +motives and ambitions, the woman with one--love. + +After Dic had, for the twentieth time, said he must be going, the girl +whispered:-- + +"I fear you will carry away with you the memory of a dull evening, but +I could not talk, I could not. Oh, Dic--" Thereupon she began to weep, +and Dic, though pained, found a certain selfish joy in comforting her, +compared to which the conversation of Madame de Stael herself would have +been poor and commonplace. Then came the gate, a sweet face wet with +tears, and good-by and good-by and good-by. + +Dic went home joyful. Rita went to her room weeping. It pained him to +leave her, but it grieved her far more deeply, and she began then to pay +the penalty of her great crime in being a woman. + +Do not from the foregoing remark conclude that Dic was selfish in his +lack of pain at parting from Rita. He also lacked her fears. Did the +fear exist in her and not in him because her love was greater or because +she was more timid? Had her abject surrender made him over-confident? +When a woman gives as Rita did she should know her man, else she is in +danger. If he happens to be a great, noble soul, she makes her heaven +and his then and there. If he is a selfish brute, she will find another +place of which we all stand in wholesome dread. + + + + +A CHRISTMAS HEARTH LOG + +CHAPTER VIII + +A CHRISTMAS HEARTH LOG + + +On the morning of Dic's departure, Billy Little advised him to invest +the proceeds of his expedition in goods at New York, and to ship them to +Madison. + +"You see," said Billy, "you will make your profit going and coming, and +you will have a nice lump of gold when you return. Gold means Rita, and +Rita means happiness and ploughing." + +"Not ploughing, Billy Little," interrupted Dic. + +"We'll see what we will see," replied Billy. "Here is a list of goods I +advise you to buy, and the name of a man who will sell them to you at +proper prices. You can trust him. He wouldn't cheat even a friend. +Good-by, Dic. Write to me. Of course you will write to Rita?" + +"Indeed I shall," replied Dic in a tone expressive of the fact that he +was a fine, true fellow, and would perform that pleasant duty with +satisfaction to himself and great happiness to the girl. You see, Dic's +great New York journey had caused him to feel his importance a bit. + +"I wish you would go up to see her very often," continued our confident +young friend; "if I do say it myself, she will miss me greatly. When I +return, she shall go home with me. Mrs. Bays has almost given her +consent. You will go often, won't you, Billy Little? Next to me, I +believe she loves you best of all the world." + +Billy watched Dic ride eastward on the Michigan road, and muttered to +himself:-- + +"'Next to me'; there is no next, you young fool." Then he went in to his +piano and caressed the keys till they yielded their ineffable sweetness +in the half-sad tones of Handel's "Messiah"; afterward, to lift his +spirits, they gave him a glittering sonata from Mozart. But it is better +to feel than to think. It is sweeter to weep than to laugh. So when he +was tired of the classics, he played over and over again, in weird, +minor, improvised variations, his love of loves, "Annie Laurie," and +tears came to his eyes because he was both happy and sad. The keys +seemed to whisper to him, so gently did he touch them, and their tones +fell, not upon his ears, but upon his heart, with a soothing pathos like +the sough of an old song or a sweet, forgotten odor of a day that is +past. + +Billy did his best to console Rita, though it was a hopeless task and +full of peril for him. There was but one topic of interest to her. Rome +and Greece were dull. What cared she about the Romans? Dic was not a +Roman. Conversation upon books wearied her, and subjects that a few +months ago held her rapt attention, now threw her into revery. I am +sorry to say she was a silly, love-lorn young woman, and not in the +least entitled to the respect of strong-minded persons. I would not +advise you, my dear young girl, to assume Rita's faults; but if you +should do so, many a good, though misguided man will mistake them for +virtues and will fall at your feet. You will not deceive your sisters; +but you won't care much for their opinion. + + * * * * * + +Soon after Dic's departure, Jim Fisher, Mrs. Bays's brother, renewed his +offer to take Mr. Bays as a partner in the Indianapolis store. The offer +was a good one and was honestly made. Fisher needed more capital, and to +that extent his motive was selfish; but the business was prosperous, and +he could easily have found a partner. + +One Saturday evening he came up to talk over the matter with his +brother-in-law. He took with him to Blue no less a person than Roger +Williams--not the original, redoubtable Roger who discovered Rhode +Island, but a descendant of his family. Williams was a man of +twenty-five. Boston was his home, and he was the son of a father +Williams who manufactured ploughs, spades, wagons, and other +agricultural implements. The young man was his father's western +representative, and Fisher sold his goods in the Indianapolis district. +He dressed well and was affable with his homespun friends. In truth, he +was a gentleman. He made himself at home in the cabin; but he had brains +enough to respect and not to patronize the good people who dwelt +therein. + +Of course it will be useless for me to pretend that this young fellow +did not fall in love with Rita. If I had been responsible for his going +to Blue, you would be justified in saying that I brought him there for +the purpose of furnishing a rival to Dic; but I had nothing to do with +his going or loving, and take this opportunity to proclaim my innocence +of all such responsibility. He came, he stayed till Tuesday, and was +conquered. He came again two weeks later, and again, and still again. He +saw, but did he conquer? That is the great question this history is to +answer. Meantime Dic was leading a drove of untamed horses all day long, +and was sleeping sometimes at a wretched inn, sometimes in the pitiless +storm, and sometimes he was chasing stampeded horses for forty-eight +hours at a stretch without sleeping or eating. But when awake he thought +of Rita, and when he slept he dreamed of her, though in his dreams there +was no handsome city man, possessed of a fine house, servants, and +carriages, sitting by her side. Had that fact been revealed to him in a +dream, the horses might have stampeded to Jericho for all he would have +cared, and he would have stampeded home to look after more important +interests. + +But to return to Fisher's visits. After supper, Saturday evening, the +question of the new store came up. + +Fisher said: "If you can raise three thousand dollars, Tom, you may have +a half-interest in the business. I have three thousand dollars now +invested, and have credit for an additional three thousand with Mr. +Williams. If we had six thousand dollars, we may have credit for six +thousand more, twelve thousand in all, and we can easily turn our stock +twice a year. Tom, it's the chance of your life. Don't you think it is, +Margarita?" + +"It looks that way, Jim," said Mrs. Bays; "but we haven't the three +thousand dollars, and we must think it over carefully and prayerfully." + +"Can't you sell the farm or mortgage it?" suggested Fisher. Tom, Jr., +gazed intently into the tree-tops, and, in so doing, led the others to +ask what he was seeking. There was nothing unusual to be seen among the +trees, and Mrs. Bays inquired:-- + +"What on earth are you looking for, Tom?" + +"I was looking to see if there was anybody roosting up there, waiting to +buy this half-cleared old stump field." + +"Tom's right," said his father. "I fear a purchaser will be hard to +find, and I don't know any one who would loan me three thousand dollars. +If we can find the money, we'll try it. What do you say, Margarita?" +Mrs. Bays was still inclined to be careful and prayerful. + +Since Rita had expressed to Billy Little her desire to remove to +Indianapolis (on the day she bought the writing paper, which, by the +way, she had never paid for) so vast a change had taken place within +herself that she had changed her way of seeing nearly everything +outside. Especially had she changed the point of view from which she saw +the Indianapolis project, and she was now quite content to grow up "a +ragweed or a mullein stalk," if she could grow in Dic's fields, and be +cared for by his hand. I believe that when a woman loves a strong man +and contemplates marriage with him, as she is apt to do, a comforting +sense of his protecting care is no small part of her emotions. She may +not consider the matter of her daily bread and raiment, but she feels +that in the harbor of his love she will be safe from the manifold storms +and harms that would otherwise beset her. + +Owing to Rita's great change the conversation on the porch was fraught +with a terrible interest. While the others talked, she, as in duty +bound,--girls were to be seen and not heard in those days,--remained +silent. Fortunately the fact that she was a girl did not preclude +thinking. That she did plenteously, and all lines of thought led to the +same question, "How will it affect Dic?" She could come to no +conclusion. Many times she longed to speak, but dared not; so she shut +her lips and her mind and determined to postpone discussing the question +with herself till she should be in bed where she could think quietly. +Meanwhile Williams seated himself beside her on the edge of the porch +and rejoiced over this beautiful rose he had found in the wilderness. +She being a simple country flower, he hoped to enjoy her fragrance for a +time without much trouble in the plucking, and it looked as though his +task would be an easy one. At first the girl was somewhat frightened at +his grandeur; but his easy, chatty conversation soon dispelled her +shyness, and she found him entertaining. He at first sight was charmed +by her beauty. He quickly discovered that her nose, chin, lips, +forehead, and complexion were faultless, and as for those wonderful +eyes, he could hardly draw his own away from them, even for a moment. +But after he had talked with her he was still more surprised to find her +not only bright, but educated, in a rambling way, to a degree little +expected in a frontier girl. + +Williams was a Harvard man, and when he discovered that the girl by his +side could talk on subjects other than bucolic, and that she could +furthermore listen to him intelligently, he branched into literature, +art, travel, and kindred topics. She enjoyed hearing him talk, and +delighted him now and then with an apt reply. So much did her voice +charm him that he soon preferred it even to his own, and he found +himself concluding that this was not a wild forest rose at all, but a +beautiful domestic flower, worthy of care in the plucking. They had +several little tilts in the best of humor that confirmed Williams in the +growing opinion that the girl's beauty and strength were not all +physical. He talked much about Boston and its culture, and spoke +patronizingly of that unfortunate portion of the world's people who did +not enjoy the advantage of living within the sacred walls. Although Rita +knew that his boast was not all vain, and that his city deserved its +reputation, she laughed softly and said in apparent seriousness:-- + +"It is almost an education even to meet a person from Boston." + +Williams looked up in surprise. He had not suspected that sarcasm could +lurk behind those wonderful eyes, but he was undeceived by her remark, +and answered laughingly:-- + +"That is true, Miss Bays." + +"Boston has much to be proud of," continued the girl, surprised and +somewhat frightened at the rate she was bowling along. She had never +before talked so freely to any one but Billy Little and Dic. "Yes, all +good comes out of Boston. I've been told that if you hear her church +bells toll, your soul is saved. There is a saving grace in their very +tones. It came over in the _Mayflower_, as you might transport yeast. If +you walk through Harvard, you will be wise; if you stand on Bunker Hill, +treason flees your soul forever; and if you once gaze upon the Common, +you are safe from the heresy of the Quaker and the sin of witchcraft." + +"I fear you are making a jest of Boston, Miss Bays," replied Williams, +who shared the sensitiveness peculiar to his people. + +"No," she replied, "I jest only at your boasting. Your city is all you +claim for it; but great virtue needs no herald." + +Williams remained silent for a moment, and then said, "Have you ever +been in Boston?" + +"I? Indeed, no," she answered laughingly. "I've never been any place but +to church and once to a Fourth of July picnic. I was once at a church +social, but it brought me into great trouble and I shall never go to +another." Williams was amused and again remained, for a time, in silent +meditation. She did not interrupt him, and at length he spoke +stammeringly:-- + +"Pardon me--where did you learn--how comes it--I am speaking abruptly, +but one would suppose you had travelled and enjoyed many advantages that +you certainly could not have here." + +"You greatly overestimate me, Mr. Williams. I have only a poor +smattering of knowledge which I absorbed from two friends who are really +educated men,--Mr. Little and Dic--Mr. Bright!" + +"Are they old--elderly men?" asked Williams. + +"One is," responded Rita. + +"Which one?" he asked. + +"Mr. Little." + +"And the other--Mr. Bright--is he young?" asked the inquisitive +Bostonian. There was no need for Rita to answer in words. The color in +her cheeks and the radiance of her eyes told plainly enough that Mr. +Bright _was_ young. But she replied with a poor assumption of +indifference:-- + +"I think he is nearly five years older than I." There was another +betrayal of an interesting fact. She measured his age by hers. + +"And that would make him--?" queried Williams. + +"Twenty-two--nearly." + +"Are you but seventeen?" he asked. Rita nodded her head and answered:-- + +"Shamefully young, isn't it? I used to be sensitive about my extreme +youth and am still a little so, but--but it can't be helped." Williams +laughed, and thought he had never met so charming a girl. + +"Yes," he answered, "it is more or less a disgrace to be so young, but +it is a fault easily overlooked." He paused for a moment while he +inspected the heavens, and continued, still studying astronomy: "I mean +it is not easily overlooked in some cases. Sometimes it is 'a monster of +such awful mien' that one wishes to jump clear over the enduring and the +pitying, and longs to embrace." + +"We often see beautiful sunsets from this porch," answered Rita, "and I +believe one is forming now." There was not a society lady in Boston who +could have handled the situation more skilfully; and Williams learned +that if he would flatter this young girl of the wilderness, he must +first serve his probation. She did not desire his flattery, and gave him +to understand as much at the outset. She found him interesting and +admired him. He was the first man of his type she had ever met. In the +matter of education he was probably not far in advance of Dic, and +certainly was very far arrear of Billy Little. But he had a certain +polish which comes only from city life. Billy had that polish, but it +was of the last generation, was very English, and had been somewhat +dimmed by friction with the unpolished surfaces about him. Dic's polish +was that of a rare natural wood. + +As a result of these conditions, Rita and Williams walked up the river +on the following afternoon--Sunday. More by accident than design they +halted at the step-off and rested upon the same rocky knoll where she +and Dic were sitting when Doug Hill hailed them from the opposite bank +of the river. The scene was crowded with memories, and the girl's heart +was soon filled with Dic, while her thoughts were busy with the events +of that terrible day. Nothing that Williams might say could interest +her, and while he talked she listened but did not hear, for her mind was +far away, and she longed to be alone. + +One would suppose that the memory of the day she shot Doug Hill would +have been filled with horror for her, but it was not. This gentle girl, +who would not willingly have killed a worm, and to whom the sight of +suffering brought excruciating pain, had not experienced a pang of +regret because of the part she had been called upon to play in the +tragedy of the step-off. When Doug was lying between life and death, she +hoped he would recover; but no small part of her interest in the result +was because of its effect upon Dic and herself. Billy Little had once +expressed surprise at this callousness, but she replied with a touch of +warmth:-- + +"I did right, Billy Little. Even mother admits that. I saved Dic's life +and my own honor. I would do it again. I am sorry I _had_ it to do, but +I am glad, oh so glad, that I had strength to do it. God helped me, or I +could never have fired the shot. You may laugh, Billy Little--I know +your philosophy leads you to believe that God never does things of that +sort--but I know better. You know a great deal more than I about +everything else, but in this instance I am wiser than you. I know God +gave me strength at the moment when I most needed it. That moment taught +me a lesson that some persons never learn. It taught me that God will +always give me strength at the last moment of my need, if I ask it of +Him, as I asked that day." + +"He gave it to you when you were born, Rita," said Billy. + +"No," she replied, "I am weak as a kitten, and always shall be, unless I +get my strength from Him." + +"Well," said Billy, meaning no irreverence, "if He would not give to +you, He would not give to any one." + +"Ah, Billy Little," said the girl, pleased by the compliment--you see +her pleasure in a compliment depended on the maker of it--"you think +every one admires me as much as you do." Billy knew that was impossible, +but for obvious reasons did not explain the true situation. + +Other small matters served to neutralize the horror Rita might otherwise +have felt. The affair at the step-off had been freely talked about by +her friends in her presence, and the thought of it had soon become +familiar to her; but the best cure was her meeting with Doug Hill a +fortnight after the trial. It occurred on the square in the town of Blue +River. She saw Doug coming toward her, and was so shaken by emotions +that she feared she could not stand, but she recovered herself when he +said in his bluff manner:-- + +"Rita, I don't want to have no more fights with you. You're too quick on +trigger for Doug. But I want to tell you I don't hold no grudge agin' +you. You did jes' right. You orter a-killed me, but I'm mighty glad you +didn't. That shot of your'n was the best sermon I ever had preached to +me. I hain't tasted a drap of liquor since that day, and I never will. +I'm goin' to start to Illinoy to-morrow, and I'm goin' to get married +and be a man. Better marry me, Rita, and go along." + +"I'm sure you will be a man, Doug," responded Rita. "I don't believe I +want to get married, but--but will you shake hands with me?" + +"Bet I will, Rita. Mighty glad to. You've the best pluck of any girl on +yarth, with all you're so mild and kitten-like, and the purtiest girl, +too--yes, by gee, the purtiest girl in all the world. Everybody says so, +Rita." Rita blushed, and began to move away from his honest flattery, so +Doug said:-- + +"Well, good-by. Tell Dic good-by, and tell him I don't hold no grudge +agin' him neither. Hope he don't agin' me. He ortent to. He's got lots +the best of it--he won the fight and got you. Gee, I'd 'a' been glad to +lose the fight if I could 'a' got you." + +Thus it happened that these two, who had last met with death between +them, parted as friends. Doug started for Illinois next day; and now he +drops out of this history. + +I have spoken thus concerning Rita's feeling about the shooting of Doug +Hill to show you how easy it was for her, while sitting beside Williams +that placid Sunday afternoon, to break in upon his interesting +conversation with the irrelevant remark:-- + +"I once shot a man near this spot." + +For a moment or two one might have supposed she had just shot Williams. +He sprang to his feet as if he intended to run from her, but at once +resumed his place, saying:-- + +"Miss Bays, your humor always surprises me. It takes me unawares. Of +course you are jesting." + +"Indeed, I am not. I have told you the truth. You will hear it sooner or +later if you remain on Blue. It is the one great piece of neighborhood +history since the Indians left. It is nothing to boast of. I simply +state it as a fact,--a lamentable fact, I suppose I should say. But I +don't feel that way about it at all." + +"Did you kill him?" asked the astonished Bostonian. + +"No, I'm glad to say he lived; but that was not my fault. I tried to +kill him. He now lives in Illinois." + +Williams looked at her doubtingly, and still feared she was hoaxing him. +He could not bring himself to believe there dwelt within the breast of +the gentle girl beside him a spirit that would give her strength to do +such a deed under any conditions. Never had he met a woman in whom the +adorable feminine weaknesses were more pronounced. She was a coward. He +had seen her run, screaming in genuine fright, from a ground squirrel. +She was meek and unresisting, to the point of weakness. He had seen her +endure unprovoked anger and undeserved rebuke from her mother, and +intolerable slights from Tom, that would surely have aroused retaliation +had there been a spark of combativeness in her gentle heart. That she +was tender and loving could be seen in every glance of her eyes, in +every feature of her face, in every tone of her soft, musical voice. +Surely, thought Williams, the girl could not kill a mouse. Where, then, +would she find strength to kill a man? But she told him, in meagre +outline, her story, and he learned that a great, self-controlled, modest +strength nestled side by side with ineffable gentleness in the heart of +this young girl; and that was the moment of Roger Williams's undoing, +and the beginning of Rita's woe. Prior to that moment he had believed +himself her superior; but, much to his surprise, he found that Roger +occupied second place in his own esteem, while a simple country girl, +who had never been anywhere but to church, a Fourth of July picnic, and +one church social, with his full consent quietly occupied first. This +girl, he discovered, was a living example of what unassisted nature can +do when she tries. All this change in Williams had been wrought in an +instant when he learned that the girl had shot a man. She was the only +woman of his acquaintance who could boast that distinction. + +What was the mental or moral process that had led him to his +conclusions? We all know there is a fascination about those who have +lived through a moment of terrible ordeal and have been equal to its +demands. But do we know by what process their force operates upon us? +We are fascinated by a noted duellist who has killed his score of men. +We are drawn by a certain charm that lurks in his iron nerve and gleams +from his cold eyes. The toreador has his way with the Spanish dons and +senoritas alike. The high-rope dancer and the trapeze girl attract us by +a subtle spell. Is it an unlabelled force in nature? I can but ask the +question. I do not pretend to answer. + +Whatever the force may be, Rita possessed it; and, linked with her +gentleness and beauty, its charm was irresistible. + +Here, at last, was the rich man from the city who could give Rita the +fine mansion, carriages, and servants she deserved. Now that these great +benefactions were at her feet, would Dic be as generous as when he told +Billy Little that Rita was not for him, but for one who could give her +these? Would he unselfishly forego his claim to make her great, and +perhaps happy? Great love in a great heart has often done as much, +permitting the world to know nothing of the sacrifice. I have known a +case where even the supposed beneficiary was in ignorance of the real +motive. Perhaps Billy Little could have given us light upon a similar +question, and perhaps the beneficiary did not benefit by the mistaken +generosity, save in the poor matter of gold and worldly eminence; and +perhaps it brought years of dull heartache to both beneficiary and +benefactor, together with hours of longing and conscience-born shame +upon two sinless hearts. + +After Rita had told her story, Roger's chatty style of conversation +suddenly ceased. He made greater efforts to please than before, but the +effort seemed to impair his power of pleasing. Rita, longing to be +alone, had resolved many times to return to the house, but before acting +upon that resolve she heard a voice calling, "Rita!" and a moment +afterward a pair of bright blue eyes, a dimpled rosy face, and a plump +little form constructed upon the partridge model came in sight and +suddenly halted. + +"Oh, excuse me," said our little wood-nymph friend, Sukey Yates. "I did +not know I was intruding. Your mother said you had come in this +direction, and I followed." + +"You are not intruding," replied Rita. "Come and sit by me. Mr. +Williams, Miss Yates." + +Miss Yates bowed and blushed, stammered a word or two, and sat by Rita +on the rocky bench. She was silent and shy for a moment, but Williams +easily loosened her tongue and she went off like a magpie. Billy used to +say that Sukey was the modern incarnation of the ancient and immortal +"Chatterbox." + +After Sukey's arrival, Rita could be alone, and an hour passed before +she returned to the house. + +That evening Billy Little took supper with Mrs. Bays, and Rita, +considering Williams her father's guest, spent most of the evening on +the sycamore log with the bachelor heart. + +"Dic gave me the ring again," she said, holding out her hand for +inspection. Billy took the hand and held it while he said:-- + +"It's pretty there--pretty, pretty." + +"Yes," she responded, looking at the back of her hand, "it's very +pretty. It was good of you--but you need not be frightened; I'm not +going to thank you. Where do you suppose he is at this moment?" + +"I don't know," answered Billy. "I suppose he's between Pittsburg and +New York." + +"I had a letter from him at Pittsburg two weeks ago," said Rita; "but I +have heard nothing since. His work must be very hard. He has no time to +think of me." + +"He probably finds a moment now and then for that purpose," laughed +Billy. + +"Oh, I don't mean that he doesn't think of me! Of course he does that +all the time. I mean that he must have little time for writing." + +"You must feel very sure of him when you say he thinks of you all the +time. How often have you thought of him since he left?" asked Billy. + +"Once," replied the girl, smiling and blushing. + +"Do you mean all the time?" queried Billy. + +She nodded her head. "Yes, all the time. Oh, Billy Little, you won't +mind if I tell you about it, will you? I must speak--and there is no one +else." + +"What is it you want to say, Rita?" he asked softly. + +"I hardly know--perhaps it is the great change that has taken place +within me since the night of Scott's social and the afternoon I shot +Doug Hill. I seem to be hundreds of years older. I must have been a +child before that night." + +"You are a child now, Rita." + +"Oh, no," she replied, "trouble matures one." + +"But you are not in trouble?" + +"N-o--" she answered hesitatingly, "but--but this is what I want to say. +Tell me, Billy Little, do you think anything can come between Dic and +me? That is the thought that haunts me all the time and makes me +unhappy." + +"Do you feel sure of Dic?" asked Billy. + +"Indeed, I do," she replied; "I am as sure of him as I am of myself." + +"How about that fellow in there?" asked Billy, pointing toward the house +with his thumb. + +"How? In what way?" inquired the girl. + +"Don't you find him interesting?" asked Billy. + +For reply she laughed softly. The question was not worth answering. The +bachelor heart had felt a strong twinge of jealousy on Williams's +account, because it knew that with wealth, an attractive person, and +full knowledge of the world, Williams would, in the long run, prove a +dangerous rival to any man who was not upon the field. The fact that +Rita dismissed him with a laugh did not entirely reassure the bachelor +heart. It told only what was already known, that she loved Dic with all +the intensity of her nature. But Billy also knew that many a girl with +such a love in her heart for one man had married another. Rita, he +feared, could not stand against the domineering will of her mother; and, +should Williams ply his suit, Billy felt sure he would have a stubborn, +potent ally in the hard Chief Justice. There was, of course, an "if," +but it might easily be turned into a terrible "is"--terrible for Billy, +Dic, and Rita. Billy had grown used to the thought that Rita would some +day become Dic's wife, and after the first spasm of pain the thought had +brought joy; but any other man than Dic was a different proposition, and +Billy's jealousy was easily and painfully aroused. He endured a species +of vicarious suffering while Dic was not present to suffer for himself. +Soon he began to long for Dic's return that he might do his own +suffering. + +Billy's question concerning Williams had crystallized Rita's feeling +that the "fellow in there" was "making up" to her, and when she returned +to the house that evening, she had few words for Roger. + +Monday Rita was unusually industrious during the day, but the evening +seemed long. She was not uncivil to her father's guest, but she did not +sit by him on the edge of the porch as she had done upon the first +evening of his visit. He frequently came to her side, but she as +frequently made an adroit excuse to leave him. She did not dislike him, +but she had found him growing too attentive. This girl was honest from +the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and longed to let Williams +understand that she was the property of another man to whom she would be +true in the spirit and in the letter. + +Tuesday morning the guests departed. Mrs. Bays urgently invited Williams +to return, and he, despite Rita's silence, assured his hostess that he +would accept her invitation. The Indianapolis project had been agreed +upon, provided Bays could raise the money. If that could be done, the +new firm would begin operations January first. That afternoon Rita went +to the step-off and looked the Indianapolis situation in the face. It +stared back at her without blinking, and she could evolve no plans to +evade it. Dic would return in November--centuries off--and she felt sure +he would bring help. Until then, Indianapolis, with the figures of her +mother and Williams in the background, loomed ominously before her +vision. + +Williams's second visit was made ostensibly to Rita's father. The third, +two weeks later, was made openly to her father's daughter. It was +preceded by an ominous letter to Rita requesting the privilege of making +the visit to her. Rita wished to answer at once by telling him that she +could not receive him, but Rita's mother thought differently. + +"Say to him," commanded Mrs. Bays, "that you will be pleased to see him. +He is a fine young man with a true religious nature. I find that he has +been brought up by a God-fearing mother. I would not have you receive +him because he is rich, but that fact is nothing against him. I can't +for the life of me understand what he sees in you, but if he--" she +stopped speaking, and her abrupt silence was more emphatic than any +words could have been. Rita saw at once the drift of her mother's +intentions and trembled. + +"But I would not be pleased to see him, mother," the girl responded +pleadingly; "and if I write to him that I would, I should be telling a +lie." + +"I tell a lie," cried the stern old woman in apparent anguish. "Oh, my +heart!" She sank to a chair, and gasping between her words, continued, +"Oh, that I should have lived to be told by my own child that I'm a +liar!" Her head fell backward, and one would have supposed dissolution +near. Mr. Bays ran to fetch a cup of water, and Rita stood in deep +trouble by her mother's side fanning her. "A liar! a liar!" moaned the +dying woman. + +"I did not say that, mother. I said--" + +"A liar! yes, I'm a liar. My own daughter that I have loved and +cherished in my own bosom, and have toiled and suffered for all my life, +says I'm a liar." + +"Mother, I protest, dear mother, hear me," began Rita, but mother +interrupted her by closing her eyes and supposedly her ears as if she +were on the point of passing over. The only signs of life in the old +woman were her gasps for breath. The girl, who had no deceit in her +heart, could not recognize it in others, least of all was she able to +see it in her own mother, whose transcendent virtues had been dinned +into her ears ever since she had possessed those useful organs. Out of +her confiding trustfulness came a deadly fear for her mother's life. She +fell on her knees and cried: "Forgive me, mother dear, forgive me. I was +wrong. I'll write whatever you wish." + +This surrender, I know, was weak in our heroine; but her words restored +her mother to life and health, and Rita rejoiced that she had seen her +duty and had performed it in time. + +Justice was soon again in equilibrium, and Rita, amid a flood of tears, +wrote to Williams, "I shall be pleased to see you," and he came. + +She did not treat him cordially, though she was not uncivil, and +Williams thought her reticence was due to modesty,--a mistake frequently +made by self-sufficient men. The girl felt that she was bound by her +letter, and that she could not in justice mistreat him. It was by her +invitation he had come. He could not know that she had been forced to +write the letter, and she could not blame him for acting upon it. She +was relieved that he attempted no flattery, and felt that surely her +lack of cordiality would prevent another visit. But she was mistaken. He +was not a man easily rebuffed. + +A fortnight later Mrs. Bays announced to her daughter the receipt of a +letter from Mr. Williams, stating that he would be on hand next Saturday +evening. + +"He is trying to induce his father to loan us the money," said Mrs. +Bays, "and your father and I want you to be particularly kind to him. +Your father and I have suffered and worked and toiled for you all your +life. Now you can help us, and you shall do so." + +"Mother, I can't receive him. I can't talk to him. It will be wicked. It +would not be honest; I can't, I can't," sobbed poor Rita. "I don't know +much, but I know it is wrong for me to receive visits from Mr. Williams +when there can be nothing between--between--" + +"Why can't there be anything between you and Williams, girl? Why?" +demanded Mrs. Bays. + +"There are many reasons, mother," returned the weeping girl, "even if it +were not for Dic--" + +"Dic!" screamed the old woman, and an attack of heart trouble at once +ensued, when Rita was again called upon to save her mother's life. + +Thus Williams came the third time to visit Rita, and showed his +ignorance of womankind by proposing marriage to a girl who was unwilling +to listen. He was promptly but politely rejected, and won the girl's +contempt by asking for her friendship if he could not have her love. The +friendship, of course, was readily granted. She was eager to give that +much to all the world. + +"I hope you will not speak of this, even to your father or mother," said +Williams. "Let it be hereafter as if I had never spoken. I regret that I +did speak." + +Rita gladly consented to comply with his request, since she was certain +heart trouble would ensue, with probably fatal results, should her +mother learn that she had refused the young man with the true religious +nature. + +Williams adroitly regained his ground by exciting Rita's ever ready +sympathy, and hoped to remain in the battle upon the plane of friendship +until another and more favorable opportunity should arise for a +successful attack. His was a tenacious nature that held to a purpose by +hook or by crook till victory crowned his efforts or defeat was +absolute. + +Williams continued to visit Rita, and Dic did not return till Christmas. +During the last month of waiting the girl's patient longing was piteous +to behold. To see her brought grief to Billy's heart, but it angered the +Chief Justice. + +Dic had written that he would be home by the middle of November, and +Rita had counted the days, even the hours, up to that time; but when he +did not arrive as expected, she had not even the poor comfort of +computing time, for she did not know when to expect him. Each day of +longing and fear ended in disappointment and tears, until at last, on +the day before Christmas, she heard from the lips of Sukey Yates that +Dic was at home. There was a touch of disappointment in receiving the +news from Sukey, but the news was so welcome that she was glad to have +it from any one. + +Sukey had ridden over to see Rita. "Why, haven't you seen him yet?" +cried the dimpler, in surprise. "I supposed, of course, he would come +here first--before seeing me. Why, I'm quite proud." + +"No," returned Rita; "I have not seen him." + +"He'll come this evening, I'm sure," said Sukey, patronizingly. "I have +company to-night. He's looking well, though he was sick for three or +four weeks at an inn near Wheeling. His illness caused the delay in +getting home. I just thought he never would come, didn't you?" + +Rita was too happy to be disturbed by insinuations of any kind, and +although she would have liked to be the first person to see Dic, she +paid no heed to Sukey's suggestive remarks. + +"He's as handsome as ever," continued Sukey, "and has a mustache. But +you will see him for yourself this evening. Good-by. I must be going. +Now come over real soon." + +"I will," answered Rita, and Sukey left her musing happily upon the +hearth log. + +Mr. Bays had been in Indianapolis for several days. He had not raised +the three thousand dollars, Williams, Sr., being at that time short of +money. Mrs. Bays and Tom had that evening driven to town to meet the +nominal head of the house. It was two o'clock when Sukey left Rita +gazing into the fire and computing the minutes till evening, when she +knew Dic would be with her. He might possibly come over for supper. + +The weather was cold, and snow had been falling since noon. The sycamore +log was under the snow, and she did not hope to have Dic to herself; but +to have him at all would be joy sufficient, and she would dream of him +until he should come. While dreaming, she turned her face toward the +window to watch the falling snow. She did not see the snow, but instead +saw a man. She did not scream with delight, as I suppose she should have +done; she simply rose to her feet and waited in the fireplace till the +door opened and Dic walked in. She did not go to him, but stood +motionless till he came to her. + +"Are you not glad to see me, Rita?" he asked. He could not see her eyes +in the dark room, or he would have had no need to ask. "Are you not +glad?" he repeated. She did not answer, but taking his face between her +hands drew it down to hers with infinite tenderness and passion. Then, +with her arms about his neck, she spoke the one word, "Glad?" and Dic +knew. + +After she had uttered the big word of one syllable, she buried her face +on his breast and began to weep. + +"Don't cry, Rita," pleaded Dic, "don't cry. I can't bear it." + +"Ah, but let me cry for one little moment," she begged. "It is better +than laughing, and it helps me so much." There was, of course, but one +answer, and Dic, turning up her tear-stained face, replied eloquently. + +After a chaotic period of several minutes they took their childhood's +place upon the hearth log within the warm, bright fireplace. Dic stirred +the fire, and the girl, nestling beside him, said:-- + +"Now tell me everything." + +"Where shall I begin?" asked Dic; and after a pause in which to find a +starting-point, he said:-- + +"I have brought you a little present. I wanted to keep it till +to-morrow--Christmas--but I find I cannot." He produced a small gold +watch with the word "Rita" engraved upon the lid. Rita was delighted; +but after a moment or two of admiration she repeated her request. + +Dic rapidly ran over the events of his trip. He had brought home +twenty-six hundred dollars, and the gold was at that moment in Billy +Little's iron-box. Of the wonders he had seen he would tell her at +leisure. He had received her three letters, and had them in his pocket +in a small leather case purchased expressly to hold them. They had never +left his person. He had been ill at an inn near Wheeling, and was "out +of his head" for three weeks; hence his failure to write during that +time. + +"Yes, Sukey told me you had been ill. I was sorry to learn it. +Especially--especially from her," said the girl, with eyes bent demurely +upon the hearth. + +"Why from her?" asked Dic. + +"Well, from any one," she replied. "I hoped you would come to see me +first. You see, I am a very exacting, jealous, disagreeable person, +Dic, and I wanted you to see me and tell me everything before you should +go to see any one else." + +"Indeed, I would," he returned. "I have come here first." + +"Did you not go around by Sukey's and see her on your way home?" Rita +asked. + +"I did not," replied Dic. "She was in town and rode with mother and me +as far as the Yates cross-path. She heard me telling mother I had been +ill." + +Dic did not tell Rita that Sukey had whispered to him in Billy Little's +store that she, Sukey, had been going to town every day during the last +fortnight in the hope that she might be the first one to see him, and +that she was so wild with joy at his return that she could easily find +it in her heart to kiss him right then and there in full view of a large +and appreciative audience; and that if he would come over Christmas +night when the folks were going to Marion, she would remain at home +and--and would he come? Dic did not mention these small matters, and, in +fact, had forgotten what Sukey had said, not caring a baw-bee how often +she had gone to meet him or any one else, and having no intention to +accept her hospitality Christmas night. Sukey's words had, for a moment, +tickled his vanity,--an easy task for a pretty woman with any man,--but +they had gone no deeper than his vanity, which, in Dic's case, was not +very deep. + + + + +DIC LENDS MONEY GRATIS + +CHAPTER IX + +DIC LENDS MONEY GRATIS + + +Such an hour as our young friends spent upon the ciphering log would +amply compensate for the trouble of living a very long life. +"Everything," as Rita had asked, was told volubly, until Dic, perhaps by +accident, clasped Rita's hand. His failure to do so earlier in the +afternoon had been an oversight; but after the oversight had been +corrected, comparative silence and watching the fire from the ciphering +log proved a sufficiently pleasant pastime, and amply good enough for +them. Good enough! I hope they have fireplaces and ciphering logs, soft, +magnetic hands, and eloquent silence in paradise, else the place will +surely be a failure. + +Snow was falling furiously, and dark winter clouds obscured the sinking +sun, bringing night before its time; and so it happened that Rita did +not see her mother pass the window. The room was dark, save in the +fireplace where Rita and Dic were sitting, illumined by the glow of +hickory embers, and occasionally by a flickering flame that spluttered +from the half-burned back-log. Unexpected and undesired, Mrs. Bays, +followed closely by our friend Williams, entered through the front door. +Dic sprang to his feet, but he was too slow by several seconds, and the +newcomers had ample opportunity to observe his strict attention to the +business in hand. Mrs. Bays bowed stiffly to Dic, and walked to the bed, +where she deposited her wraps. + +Williams approached Rita, who was still seated in the fireplace. She +rose and accepted his proffered hand, forgetting in her confusion to +introduce Dic. Roger's self-composure came to his relief. + +"This must be Mr. Bright," said he, holding out his hand to Dic. "I have +heard a great deal of you from Miss Bays during the last four months. We +heard in town that you had returned. Since Rita will not introduce me, I +will perform that duty for myself. I am Mr. Williams." + +"How do you do," said Dic, as he took Roger's hand. + +"I am delighted to meet you," said Williams, which, as we know, was a +polite fiction. Dic had no especial occasion to dispute Williams's +statement, but for some undefined reason he doubted its truth. He did +not, however, doubt his own feelings, but knew that he was not glad to +meet Williams. The words, "I have heard a great deal of you from Miss +Bays during the last four months," had so startled him that he could +think of nothing else. After the narrative of his own adventures, he +had, in imitation of Rita, asked _her_ to tell _him_ "everything"; but +the name of Williams, her four-months' friend, had not been mentioned. +Dic could not know that the girl had forgotten Williams's very existence +in the moment of her joy. Her forgetfulness was the best evidence that +Williams was nothing to her; but, I confess, her failure to speak of him +had an ugly appearance. Williams turned to Rita, and, with a feeling of +satisfaction because Dic was present, handed her a small package, +saying:-- + +"I have brought you a little Christmas gift." + +Rita hesitatingly accepted the package with a whispered "Thank you," and +Mrs. Bays stepped to her side, exclaiming:-- + +"Ah, how kind of you, Mr. Williams." + +Rita, Mrs. Bays, and Williams were facing the fire, and Dic stood back +in the shadow of the room. A deep, black shadow it was to Dic. + +Mrs. Bays, taking the package from Rita's hand, opened it; and there, +nestling in a bed of blue velvet, was a tiny watch, rich with jewels, +and far more beautiful than the one Dic had brought from New York. +Encircling the watch were many folds of a massive gold chain. Mrs. Bays +held the watch up to the light of the firelight, and Dic, with an aching +sensation in the region of his heart, saw its richness at a glance. He +knew at once that the giver must be a man of wealth; and when Mrs. Bays +delightedly threw the gold chain over Rita's head, and placed the watch +in her unresisting hand, he remarked that he must be going. Poor, +terrified Rita did not hear Dic's words. Receiving no reply, he took his +hat from the floor where he had dropped it on entering the room several +centuries before, opened the door, and walked out. + +All that I have narrated as taking place after Williams entered upon the +scene occurred within the space of two or three minutes, and Rita first +learned that Dic was going when she heard the door close. + +"Dic!" she cried, and started to follow him, but her mother caught her +wrist and said sternly:-- + +"Stay here, Rita. Don't go to the door." + +"But, mother--" + +"Stay here, I command you," and Rita did not go to the door. Dic met Mr. +Bays at the gate, paused for a word of greeting, and plunged into the +snow-covered forest, while the words "during the last four months" rang +in his ears with a din that was almost maddening. + +"She might have told me," he muttered, speaking as if to the storm. +"While I have been thinking of her every moment, she has been listening +to him. But her letters were full of love. She surely loved me when I +met her two hours ago. No woman could feign love so perfectly. She must +love me. I can't believe otherwise. I will see her again to-night and +she will explain all, I am sure. There is no deceit in her." His +returning confidence eased, though it did not cure, his pain. It +substituted another after a little time--suspense. It was not in his +nature to brook suspense, and he determined again and again to see Rita +that evening. + +But his suspense was ended without seeing Rita. When he reached home he +found Sukey, blushing and dimpling, before the fire, talking to his +mother. + +"Been over to see Rita?" she asked, parting her moist, red lips in a +smile, showing a gleam of her little, white teeth, and dimpling +exquisitely. + +"Yes," answered Dic, laconically. + +"Thought maybe you would stay for supper," she continued. + +"No," replied Dic. + +"Perhaps the other fellow was there," remarked Sukey, shrugging her +plump shoulders and laughing softly. Dic did not reply, but drew a chair +to the hearth. + +"Guess they're to be married soon," volunteered Sukey. "He has been +coming Saturdays and staying over Sunday ever since you left. Guess he +waited for you to get out of the way. I think he's so handsome. Met him +one Sunday afternoon at the step-off. I went over to see Rita, and her +mother said she had gone to take a walk with Mr. Williams in that +direction after dinner. I knew they would be at the step-off; it's such +a lonely place. He lives in Boston, and they say he's enormously rich." +During the long pause that followed Dic found himself entirely relieved +of suspense. There was certainty to his heart's content. He did not show +his pain; and much to her joy Sukey concluded that Dic did not care +anything about the relations between Williams and Rita. + +"Rita showed me the ring he gave her," continued Sukey. Dic winced, but +controlled himself. It was his ring that Sukey had seen on Rita's +finger, but Dic did not know that. + +"Some folks envy her," observed the dimpler, staring in revery at the +fire. "She'll have a fine house, servants, and carriages"--Dic +remembered having used those fatal words himself--"and will live in +Boston; but for myself--well, I never intend to marry, but if I do I'll +take one of the boys around here, or I'll die single. The boys here are +plenty good enough for me." + +The big, blue eyes, covered by downcast lashes, were carefully examining +a pair of plump, little, brown hands resting in her lap, but after a +pause she flashed a hurried glance upon Dic, which he did not see. + +When a woman cruelly wounds a man as Rita had wounded Dic, the first +remedy that suggests itself to the normal masculine mind is another +woman, and the remedy is usually effective. There may not be as good +fish in the sea as the one he wants, but good fish there are, in great +numbers. Balm of Gilead doubtless has curative qualities; but for a +sore, jealous, aching, masculine heart I would every time recommend the +fish of the sea. + +Sukey, upon Mrs. Bright's invitation, remained for supper, and Dic, of +course, was compelled to take her home. Upon arrival at the Yates +mansion, Sukey invited Dic to enter. Dic declined. She drew off her +mittens and took his hand. + +"Why," she said, "your hands are like ice; you must come in and warm +them. Please do," so Dic hitched his horse under a straw-covered shed +and went in with the remedy. One might have travelled far and wide +before finding a more pleasant remedy than Sukey; but Dic's ailments +were beyond cure, and Sukey's smiles might as well have been wasted upon +her brother snowman in the adjacent field. + +Soon after Dic's arrival, all the family, save Sukey, adjourned to the +kitchen, leaving the girl and her "company" to themselves, after the +dangerous manner of the times. + +If any member of the family should remain in the room where the young +lady of the house was entertaining a friend, the visitor would consider +himself _persona non grata_, and would come never again. Of course the +Bays family had never retired before Dic; but he had always visited Tom, +not Rita. + +The most unendurable part of Williams's visits to Rita was the fact that +they were made to her, and that she was compelled to sit alone with him +through the long evenings, talking as best she could to one man and +longing for another. When that state of affairs exists, and the woman +happens to be a wife, the time soon comes when she sighs for the +pleasures of purgatory; yet we all know some poor woman who meets the +wrong man every day and gives him herself and her life because God, in +His inscrutable wisdom, has permitted a terrible mistake. To this +bondage would Rita's mother sell her. + +Dic did not remain long with the tempting little remedy. While his hand +was on the latch she detained him with many questions, and danced about +him in pretty impatience. + +"Why do you go?" she asked poutingly. + +"You said Bob Kaster was coming," replied Dic. + +"Oh, well, you stay and I'll send him about his business quickly +enough," she returned. + +"Would you, Sukey?" asked Dic, laughing. + +"Indeed, I will," she responded, "or any one else, if you will stay." + +She took his hand again, and, leaning against him, smiled pleadingly +into his face. Her smiles were as sweet and enticing as she or any other +girl could make. There were no redder lips, no whiter teeth, nor +prettier dimples than Sukey's on all Blue River or any other river, and +there could be no prettier, more tempting picture than this pouting +little nymph who was pleading with our Joseph not to run away. But Dic, +not caring to remain, hurriedly closed the door and went out into the +comforting storm. After he had gone Sukey went to the ciphering log and +sat gazing meditatively into the fire. Vexation and disappointment +alternately held possession of her soul; but Dic was more attractive to +her because he was unattainable, and she imagined herself greatly +injured and deeply in love. She may have imagined the truth; but Sukey, +though small in herself, had a large, comprehensive heart wherein +several admirers might be accommodated without overtaxing its capacity, +and soon she was comforting herself with Bob Kaster. + +There was little rest for Dic that night. Had he been able to penetrate +darkness and log walls, and could he have seen Rita sobbing with her +face buried in her pillow, he might have slept soundly. But darkness and +log walls are not to be penetrated by ordinary eyes. + +Riding home from Sukey's, Dic thought he had learned to hate Rita. He +swore mighty oaths that he would never look upon her face again. But +when he had rested a little time in bed he recalled her fair face, her +gentleness, her honesty, and her thousand perfections. He remembered the +small hand he had held so tenderly a few hours since. Its magnetic +touch, soft as the hand of a duchess, still tingled through his nerves. +With these memories came an anguish that beat down his pride, and, like +Rita, he clasped his hands over his head, turned his face to his pillow, +and alas! that I should say it of a strong man, wept bitter, scalding +tears. + +Do the real griefs of life come with age? If Dic should live till his +years outnumbered those of Methuselah, no pain could ever come to him +worthy of mention compared to this. It awakened him to the quality and +quantity of his love. It seemed that he had loved her ever since she +lisped his name and clung to his finger in tottering babyhood. He looked +back over the years and failed to see one moment in all the myriads of +moments when he did not believe himself first in her heart as she had +always been first in his; and now, after he had waited patiently, and +after she, out of her own full heart, had confessed her woman's love, +after she had given him herself in abject, sweet surrender, and had +taken him for her own, the thought of her perfidy was torture to him. +Then came again like a soothing balm the young memory of their last +meeting. He recalled and weighed every word, act, and look. Surely, he +thought, no woman could feign the love she had shown for him. She had +not even tried to show her love. It had been irrepressible. Why should +she wish to feign a love she did not feel? There was nothing she could +gain by deceit. But upon the heels of this slight hope came that +incontestable fact,--Williams. Dic could see her sitting with the +stranger as she had sat with himself at the step-off. Williams had been +coming for four months. She might be in his arms at that moment--the +hour was still early--before the old familiar fireplace, while the +family were in the kitchen. He could not endure the picture he had +conjured, so he rose from his bed, dressed, stole softly from the house, +and walked through the winter storm down the river to Bays's. Feeling +like a thief, he crept to the window. The night being cold, the fire had +not been banked, but threw its glow out into the room; and Dic's heart +leaped for joy when he saw the room was empty. At that same moment Rita +was in her own room, not twenty feet away from him, sobbing on her +pillow and wishing she were dead. + +Dic's discovery of the empty room had no real significance, but it +seemed a good omen, and he went home and slept. + +Rita did not sleep. She knew the first step had been taken to separate +her from Dic. She feared the separation was really effected. She had +offended this manly, patient lover so frequently that surely, she +thought, he would not forgive her this last and greatest insult. She +upbraided herself for having, through stupidity and cowardice, allowed +him to leave her. He had belonged to her for years; and the sweet +thought that she belonged to him, and that it was her God-given +privilege to give herself to him and to no other, pressed upon her +heart, and she cried out in the darkness: "I will not give him up! I +will not! If he will forgive me, I will fall upon my knees and beg him +to try me once again." + +Christmas was a long, wretched day for Dic. What it was to Rita you may +easily surmise. Early after supper Dic walked over to see Sukey, and his +coming filled that young lady's ardent little soul with delight. His +reasons for going would be hard to define. Perhaps his chief motive was +the hope of running away from himself, and the possibility of hearing +another budget of unwelcome news concerning Rita and Williams. He +dreaded to hear it; but he longed to know all there was to be known, and +he felt sure Sukey had exhaustive knowledge on the subject, and would be +ready to impart it upon invitation. + +He had been sitting with Sukey half an hour when Tom Bays walked in. +Thomas, of course, could not remain when he found the field occupied; +and much to Dic's regret and Sukey's delight he took his departure, +after a visit of ten minutes. Dic urged him to remain, saying that he +was going soon, and Sukey added, "Yes, won't you stay?" But she was far +from enthusiastic, and Thomas went home with disappointment in his heart +and profanity on his lips. + +When Tom entered the room where Rita was doing her best to entertain +Williams, she said, "I thought you were going to see Sukey?" + +"Dic's there," answered Tom, and Rita's white face grew whiter. + +Tom started toward the back door on his way to the kitchen, where his +father and mother were sitting, and Rita said, pleadingly:-- + +"Don't go, Tom; stay here with us. Please do." She forgot Williams and +continued: "Please, brother. I don't ask much of you. This is a little +thing to do for me. Please stay here," but brother laughed and went to +the kitchen without so much as answering her. + +When the door closed on Tom, Rita stood for a moment in front of the +fireplace, and, covering her face with her hands, began to weep. +Williams approached her, overflowing with consolation, and placed his +hand caressingly upon her arm. She sprang from him as if she had been +stung, and cried out:-- + +"Don't put your hand on me! Don't touch me!" She stepped backward toward +the door leading upstairs to her room. + +"Why, Rita," said Williams, "I did not intend anything wrong. I would +not offend you for all the world. You are nervous, Rita, and--and--" + +"Don't call me Rita," she interrupted, sobbing. "I hate--I hate--" she +was going to say "I hate you," but said,--"the name." + +He still approached her, though she had been retreating backward step by +step. He had no thought of touching her; but as he came toward her, she +lost self-control and almost screamed:-- + +"Don't touch me, I say! Don't touch me!" She had endured his presence +till she could bear it no longer, and the thought of Dic sitting with +Sukey had so wrought upon her that her self-control was exhausted. +Williams walked back to the fireplace, and Rita, opening the stair door, +hurriedly went to her room. + +[Illustration: "COVERING HER FACE WITH HER HANDS, SHE BEGAN TO WEEP."] + +She was not one in whom the baser sort of jealousy could exist; but the +thought of Dic, her Dic, sitting with Sukey, while she was compelled to +endure the presence of the man she had learned almost to hate, burned +her. Her jealousy did not take the form of hatred toward Sukey, and the +pain it brought her was chiefly because it confirmed her in the belief +that she had lost Dic. She did not doubt that Dic had loved her, and her +faith in that fact quickened her sense of loss. She blamed no one but +herself for the fact that he no longer loved her, and was seeking +another. Still, she was jealous, though even that unholy passion could +not be base in her. + +Sukey smiled and dimpled at Dic for an hour or two with no appreciable +effect. He sat watching the fire, seeing none of her little love +signals, and went home quite as wretched as he had come. Evidently, +Sukey was the wrong remedy, though upon seeing her charms one would have +felt almost justified in warranting her,--no cure, no pay. Perhaps she +was a too-willing remedy: an overdose of even the right drug may +neutralize itself. As for myself, I love Dic better because his ailment +responded to no remedy. + +Next day, Tom, without at all deserving it, won Rita's gratitude by +taking Williams out shooting. + +After supper Rita said, "My head aches, and if I may be excused, I will +go to my room." + +But her mother vetoed the proposition:-- + +"Your head does not ache, and you will stay downstairs. Your father and +I are going to church, and Mr. Williams will not want to be alone, will +you, Mr. Williams?" + +"Indeed, I hope Miss Bays will keep me company," answered this +persistent, not-to-be-shaken-off suitor. + +So Rita remained downstairs with Williams and listened to his apologies +for having offended her the night before. She felt contrite, and in turn +told him she was the one who should apologize, and said she hoped he +would forgive her. Her gentle heart could not bear to inflict pain even +upon this man who had brought so much suffering to her. + +The next morning took Williams away, and Rita's thoughts were all +devoted to formulating a plan whereby she might see Dic and beg his +forgiveness after a fashion that would have been a revelation to +Williams. + +Several days of furious storm ensued, during which our Rita, for the +first time in her life, was too ill to go abroad. + +Mr. Bays had gone to Indianapolis with Williams, and returned on +Thursday's coach, having failed to raise the three thousand dollars. At +the supper table, on the evening of his return, Tom offered a +suggestion. + +"I'll tell you where you can get most of the money," he said. "Dic has +twenty-six hundred dollars in Billy Little's box. He'll loan it to you." + +"That's just the thing," cried Mrs. Bays, joyfully. "Tom, you are the +smartest boy on Blue. It took you to help us out." One would have +thought from her praise that Tom, and not Dic, was to furnish the money. +Addressing her husband, she continued:-- + +"You go over and see him this evening. If he won't loan it to us after +all we have done for him, he ought to be horsewhipped." + +"What have we ever done for him?" asked Tom. The Chief Justice sought +for an answer. Failing to find a better one, she replied:-- + +"He's had five hundred meals in this house if he's had one." + +"And he's given us five hundred deer and turkeys if he's given us one," +answered Tom. + +"Well, you know, Tom, just as well as I do, that we have always been +helping him. It is only your generous nature keeps you from saying so," +responded Mrs. Bays. Tom laughed, and Tom, Sr., said:-- + +"I'll go over and see him this evening. I wonder where he has been? I +haven't seen him but once since he came home." + +"Guess Williams scared him off," suggested Tom. + +Rita tried in vain to think of some plan whereby she might warn Dic +against loaning the money, or prevent her father from asking it. After +supper Tom went to town while his father went up to see Dic. + +When the after-supper work was finished, Mrs. Bays took her knitting and +sat before the fire in the front room. Rita, wishing to be alone, +remained in the kitchen, watching the fire die down and cuddling her +grief. She had been there but a few minutes when the outer door opened +and in walked Dic. + +"I have come to ask you if you have forgotten me?" he said. + +The girl answered with a cry of joy, and ran to him. + +"Ah, Dic, I have forgotten all else. Forgive me. Forgive me," she +replied, and as the tears came, he drew her to his side. + +"But, Rita--this man Williams?" he asked. + +"I ... I know, Dic," she said between sobs, "I ... I know, but I +can't ... can't tell you now. Wait till I can speak. But I love you. +I ... can tell you that much. I will try to ... to explain when ... I +can talk." + +"You need explain nothing," said Dic, soothingly. "I want only to know +that you have not forgotten me. I have suffered terribly these last few +days." + +"I'm so glad," responded the sobbing girl, unconscious of her apparent +selfishness. + +The kitchen fireplace was too small for a hearth log, so Dic and Rita +took chairs before the fire, and the girl, regardless of falling tears, +began her explanation. + +"You see, it was this way, Dic," she sobbed. "He came with Uncle Jim, +and then he came again and again. I did not want him--I am sure you +know that I did not--but mother insisted, and I thought you would make +it all right when you returned. You know mother has heart trouble, and +any excitement may kill her. She is so--so--her will is so strong, and I +fear her and love her so much. She is my mother, and it is my duty to +obey her when--when I can. The time may come when I cannot obey her. It +has come, several times, and when I disobey her I suffer terribly and +always think how I would feel if she were to die." + +Dic longed to enlighten her concerning the mother heart, but could not +find it in his heart to attack even his arch-enemy through Rita's +simple, unquestioning faith. That faith was a part of the girl's +transcendent perfection, and a good daughter would surely make a good +wife. + +Rita continued her explanation: "He came many times to see me, and it +seems as though he grew to liking me. Then he asked me to marry him, but +I refused, Dic; I refused. I should have told him then that I had +promised to be your wife--" here she gave Dic her hand--"but I was +ashamed and--and, oh, I can't explain after all. I can't tell you how it +all happened. I thought I could; but I really do not myself understand +how it has all come about." + +"You have not promised him?" asked Dic in alarm. + +"Indeed, I have not, and I never shall. He has tried, with mother's +help, to force himself upon me, and I have been frightened almost to +death for fear he would succeed. Oh, take me now, Dic. Take me at once +and save me from him." + +"I would, Rita, but you are not yet eighteen, and we must have the +consent of your parents before we can marry. That, you know, your mother +would refuse. When you are eighteen--but that will be almost a year from +now--I will take you home with me. Do not fear. Give me your love, and +trust to me for the rest." + +"Now I feel safe," she cried, snatching up Dic's hand. "You are stronger +than mother. I saw that the evening before you left, when we were all on +the porch and you spoke up so bravely to her. You will meet her face to +face and beat down her will. I can't do it. I become helpless when she +attacks me. I am miserably weak. I sometimes hate myself and fear I +should not marry you. I know I shall not be able to make you a good +wife." + +Dic expressed an entire willingness to take the risk. "But why did you +accept a ring from him?" + +"I did not," responded Rita, with wide-open eyes. "He offered me a +diamond when he asked me to--to--but I refused it. I gave him back his +watch, too; but mother does not know I did. She would be angry. She +thinks the watch you gave me is the one he offered." + +"Sukey Yates said you showed her his ring." + +"Dic," returned Rita, firing up indignantly, "did Sukey tell you +that--that lie? I don't like to use the word, but, Dic, she lied. She +once saw your ring upon my finger, before I could hide it from her, but +I did not tell her who had given it to me. I told her nothing. I don't +believe she intended to tell a story. I am sorry I used the other word. +She probably thought that Mr.--Mr.--that man had given it to me." After +she had spoken, a shadowy little cloud came upon her face. "You were +over to see Sukey Christmas night," she said, looking very straight into +the fire. + +"Yes," returned Dic. "How did you learn that I was there?" + +"Tom told me," she answered. "And I cried right out before Mr.--Mr.--the +Boston man." + +"Ah, did you?" asked Dic, leaning forward and taking her hand. + +"Yes; and when he put his hand on my arm," she continued, very proud of +the spirit she had shown, "I just flew at him savagely. Oh, I can be +fierce when I wish. He will never touch me again, you may depend on it." +She then gave the details of the scene with Williams, dwelling proudly +upon the fact of her successful retreat to bed, and meekly telling of +what she called her jealousy and wickedness. She had asked forgiveness +of God, and now she would ask it of Dic, evidently believing that if God +and Dic would forgive her wicked jealousy, no one else had any right to +complain. She was justly proud of the manner in which she had +accomplished the retreat movement, and really felt that she was becoming +dare-devilish to a degree seldom, if ever, equalled by an undutiful +daughter. + +"You don't know how wicked I can be," she said, in great earnestness. + +"I know how good and beautiful you are," answered Dic. "I know you are +the one perfect human being in all the world--and it is useless for me +to try to tell you how much you are to me. When I am alone, I am better +able to realize what I feel, but I cannot speak it." + +"Oh, Dic, is it really true?" asked the girl. "Neither can I tell +how--how--" but those emotions which cannot be spoken in words, owing to +the poverty of our language, must be expressed otherwise. God or Satan +taught the proper method to Adam and Eve, and it has come down to us by +patristic succession, so that we have it to-day in all its pristine +glory and expressiveness. Some have spoken against the time-honored +custom, and claim to mark its decadence. Connecticut forbade it by law +on Sundays, and frowned upon it "Fridays, Saturdays, and all"; but when +it dies, the Lord will whitewash this old earth and let it out as a moon +to shine upon happier worlds where the custom still lives. + +Rita and Dic did not disturb Mrs. Bays, and she, unconscious of his +presence, did not disturb them until Mr. Bays returned. + +When Mrs. Bays learned that Dic had been in the kitchen an hour, she +felt that the highest attribute of the human mind had been grossly +outraged. But her husband was about to ask a favor of Dic, and she +limited her expression of dissent to an exhibition of frigid, virtuous +dignity, worthy of the king's bench, or Judge Anselm Fisher himself. + +When Bays came home, Dic and Rita went into the front room and took +their old places on the ciphering log. Mr. and Mrs. Bays sat on the +hearth before the fire. Mrs. Bays brought a chair and indicated by a +gesture that Rita should occupy it; but with Dic by her side that young +lady was brave and did not observe her mother's mute commands. Amid the +press of other matters in the kitchen, Rita had not remembered to warn +Dic not to lend her father the money. When that fluttering heart of hers +was in great trouble or joy, it was apt to be a forgetful little organ, +and regret in this instance followed forgetfulness. The regret came +after she was seated with Dic on the hearth log, and, being in her +mother's presence, dared not speak. + +Mr. Bays was genuinely glad to see Dic, and listened with delight to the +narrative of his trip. When an opportunity arose, Tom, Sr., said:-- + +"I have a fine opportunity to go into business with Jim Fisher. I want +to borrow three thousand dollars, and I wonder if you will be willing to +lend me your money?" + +"Yes," answered Dic, eagerly, "I am glad to lend it to you." He welcomed +the proposition as a blind man would welcome light. He was glad to help +his lifelong friend; but over and above that motive Mr. Bays's request +for money seemed to mean Rita. It certainly could mean nothing else; and +if the family moved to Indianapolis, it would mean Rita in the cosey +log-cabin up the river at once. Dic and his mother lived together, and, +even without Rita, the log house was a delightful home, warm in winter +and cool in summer; but the beautiful girl would transmute the log walls +to jasper, the hewed floors to beaten gold, and would create a paradise +on the banks of Blue. The thought almost made him dizzy. He had never +before felt so near to possessing her. + +"Indeed I will," he repeated. + +"I will pay you the highest rate of interest," said Mr. Bays. + +"I want no interest, and you may repay the loan in one or ten years, as +you choose." + +Rita, unable to repress her desire to speak, exclaimed: "Oh, Dic, please +don't," but Mrs. Bays gazed sternly over her glasses at her daughter and +suppressed the presumptuous, forward girl. The old lady, seeing Dic's +eagerness to lend the money, seized the opportunity to lessen her +obligation in the transaction and to make it appear that she was +conferring a favor upon Dic. If she and Mr. Bays would condescend to +borrow his money, she determined that Dic should fully appreciate the +honor they were doing him. Therefore, after a formulative pause, she +spoke to her daughter:-- + +"Mind your own affairs. Girls should be seen and not heard. Some girls +are seen altogether too much. Your father and Dic will arrange this +affair between themselves without your help. It is purely an affair of +business. Dic, of course, wishes to invest his money; and if your +father, after due consideration, is willing to help him, I am sure he +should feel obliged to us, and no doubt he will. He would be an +ungrateful person indeed if he did not. I am sure your father's note is +as good as the bank. He pays his just debts. He is my husband and could +not do otherwise. No man lives who has not at all times received his +dues from us to the last penny. If a penny is coming to us, we want it. +If we owe one, we pay it. My father, Judge Anselm Fisher, was the same +way. His maxim was, 'Justice to all and confusion to sinners.' He died +beholden to no man. Neither have I ever been beholden to any one. Dic is +fortunate, indeed, in finding so good an investment for his money, at +interest; very fortunate indeed." + +"I don't want interest," said the too eager Dic. + +"Indeed, that is generous in you," returned Mrs. Bays, though she was +determined that Dic should not succeed in casting the burden of an +obligation upon her shoulders. "But of course you know your money will +be safe, and that is a great deal in these days of weak banks and +robbers. If I were in Mr. Bays's place, I should pause and consider the +matter carefully and prayerfully before assuming responsibility for +anybody's money. If it should be stolen from him, he, and not you, would +lose it. I think it is very kind in him to undertake the +responsibility." + +That phase of the question slightly dimmed its rosiness; but Dic still +hoped that lending the money would make smoother his path to Rita. At +first he had not foreseen that he, and not the Bayses, would rest under +an obligation. To the girl the lending of this money meant Indianapolis, +Williams, and separation from Dic. + + + + +THE TOURNAMENT + +CHAPTER X + +THE TOURNAMENT + + +Mr. Bays, rash man that he was, without care or prayer, accepted Dic's +loan and was thankful, despite the good wife's effort to convince him he +was conferring a favor. Her remarks had been much more convincing to Dic +than to her husband. The latter could not entirely throw off the feeling +that Dic was doing him a favor. + +The money was to be delivered and the note executed in ten days, Mrs. +Margarita insisting that Dic should be responsible for his own money +until it was needed by her husband. + +"He certainly would not ask us to be responsible for his money till we +can use it," she observed, in an injured tone, to her daughter. One +would have supposed from her attitude that an imposition was being put +upon her, though she, herself, being accustomed to bear the burdens of +others, would bow her neck beneath this yoke and accept the +responsibility of Dic's money. She not only convinced herself that such +was the proper view to take of the transaction, but succeeded fairly +well in impressing even Rita with that belief. Such an achievement +required generalship of the highest order; but Mrs. Bays possessed that +rare quality to a degree seldom, if ever, equalled. + +The loan was to bear no interest, Dic hoping to heighten the sense of +obligation in Mr. Bays. He succeeded; but of course the important member +of the family still felt that Dic was beholden to her. She could not, +however, with either safety or justice, exclude from her house the man +who was to lend the much-needed money. While she realized the great +favor she was conferring on Dic, and fully understood the nature of the +burden she was taking upon herself solely for his sake, she had no +thought of shrinking from her duty;--not she. The money had not been +delivered, and Dic, if offended, might change his mind and foolishly +refuse her sacrifice. It might not be entirely safe to presume too +largely upon his sense of obligation--some persons are devoid of +gratitude--until the money was in hand. For these reasons Dic was +tolerated, and during the next ten days spent his evenings with Rita, +though mother and father Bays did not migrate to the kitchen, in +accordance with well-established usage on Blue, and as they had done +when Williams came a-wooing. Dic cared little for the infringement, and +felt that old times had come again. Rita, growing bold, braved her +mother's wrath, and continued each evening to give him a moment of his +own. One evening it would be a drink from the well that she wanted. +Again, it was a gourdful of shell-barks from the cellar under the +kitchen, whence she, of course, was afraid to fetch them alone. The most +guileless heart will grow adroit under certain well-known conditions; +and even Rita, the simplest of girls, easily made opportunities to give +Dic these little moments from which she came back rosy, while that lucky +young man was far from discontented. + +Rita paid each evening for Dic's moment when the door closed on him, and +continued payment during the next day till his return. But she +considered the moment a great bargain at the price, continued her +purchases, and paid the bills on demand to incarnate Justice. The bills +were heavy, and had not Rita been encased by an armor of trusty steel, +wrought from the links of her happiness, her soft, white form would +have been pierced through and through by the tough, ashen shafts of her +mother's relentless cruelty. + +We are apt to feel pain and suffering comparatively. To one who has +experienced a great agony, smaller troubles seem trivial. Rita had +experienced her great agony, and her mother's thrusts were but needle +pricks compared with it. + + * * * * * + +Arrangements were quickly made for moving to Indianapolis, and at the +end of ten days all was ready for the money to be delivered. Dic again +asked for Rita, and Mr. Bays was for delivering the girl at once. His +new venture at Indianapolis had stimulated his sense of self-importance, +and he insisted, with a temerity never before dared, that Dic, whom he +truly loved, should have the daughter whom they each loved. But the +Chief Justice would agree to nothing more than an extension of the +armistice, and graciously consented that Dic might visit the _family_ at +Indianapolis once in a while. + +After Dic had agreed to lend the money, he at once notified Billy +Little, in whose strong-box it was stored. Dic, in the course of their +conversation, expressed to Billy the sense of obligation he felt to the +Bayses. + +"I declare," vowed Billy, "that old woman is truly great. When she goes +to heaven, she will convince St. Peter that she is doing him a favor by +entering the pearly gates. Neither will she go in unless everything +suits her. There is not another like her. Archimedes said he could lift +the world with a lever if he had a fulcrum. Undiluted egotism is the +fulcrum. But one must actually believe in one's self to be effective. +One cannot impose a sham self-faith upon the world. Only the man who +believes his own lie can lie convincingly. Egad! Dic, it would have been +beautiful to see that self-sufficient old harridan attempting to +convince you that she was conferring a favor by taking your money. You +will probably never see a fippenny bit of it again. And without +interest! Jove! I say it was beautiful. Had she wanted your liver, I +suppose you would have thanked her for accepting it. She is a wonder." + +These remarks opened Dic's eyes and convinced him that the New York trip +had not effaced all traces of unsophistication. + +In those days of weak strong-boxes and numerous box-breakers, men +hesitated to assume the responsibility of taking another's gold for +safe-keeping. There could be no profit to Billy Little in Dic's gold. He +took it to keep for him only because he loved him. The sum total of +Billy's wealth, aside from his stock of goods valued at a thousand +dollars, consisted of notes, secured by mortgages, amounting to four +thousand dollars. Of this sum he had lent five hundred dollars to Dic, +who had repaid him in gold. The money had been placed in Billy Little's +strong-box with Dic's twenty-six hundred dollars. Each sum of gold was +contained in a canvas shot-bag. Of course news of Dic's wealth had +spread throughout the town and country, and had furnished many a +pleasant hour of conversation among persons with whom topics were +scarce. + +Late one night Billy Little's slumbers were disturbed by a noise in the +store, and his mind at once turned to the gold. He rose quickly, seized +his shot-gun, and opened the door leading into the storeroom just in +time to see two men climb out through the open window near the +post-office boxes. Billy ran to the window and saw the men a hundred +yards away. He climbed out and hurried in pursuit, but the men were soon +out of sight, and Billy returned shivering to the store. He could see by +the dim light from the window that the doors of his strong-box were +standing open. There was no need to examine the box. Billy well knew the +gold had vanished. He shut the iron doors and went back to his room, +poked the fire, seated himself at the piano, and for the next hour ran +through his favorite repertoire, closing the concert with "Annie +Laurie." Then he went to bed and slept like an untroubled child till +morning. + +The safe had been unlocked by means of a false key. There were no +visible signs of robbery, and Billy Little determined to tell no one of +his loss. The first question that confronted him in the morning was, +what should be done about the loss of Dic's gold? That proposition he +quickly settled. He went across the road to the inn, got his breakfast, +returned to his room, donned his broadcloth coat, made thirty years +before in London, took from his strong-box notes to the amount of +twenty-six hundred dollars, and left for Indianapolis by the noon stage. +At Indianapolis he sold the notes and brought back Dic's gold. This he +kept in his iron box during the day and under his pillow at night. + + * * * * * + +The household effects of the Bays family were placed in two wagons to be +taken to Indianapolis. Dic had offered to drive one team, and Tom was to +drive the other. Mr. Bays had preceded the family by a day or two; but +before leaving he and Dic had gone to Billy Little's store for the +money. Dic, of course, knew nothing of the robbery. Billy had privately +advised his young friend to lend the money payable on demand. + +"You should buy a farm when a good opportunity offers," said he. "Land +hereabouts will increase in value a hundred per cent in ten years. You +should not tie up your money for a long time." + +Billy made the same representation to Bays, and that gentleman, eager to +get the money on any terms, agreed with him. Little's real, though +unspoken, reason was this: he felt that if Dic held a debt against Bays, +collectible upon demand, it would be a protection against Mrs. +Margarita's too keen sense of justice, and might prove an effective help +in winning Rita from the icy dragoness. Therefore, the note was drawn +payable on demand. When Mrs. Bays learned that fact, she named over to +her spouse succinctly the various species of fool of which he was the +composite representative. The satisfaction she felt in unbosoming +herself was her only reward, for the note remained collectible on +demand. + +The weather was very cold, and the snow-covered road would be rough. So +it had been determined that Rita and her mother should travel to +Indianapolis by the stage coach. But when the wagons were ready to +start, at sun-up, Mrs. Bays being in bed, Rita basely deserted that +virtuous woman and climbed over the front wheel to the seat beside Dic. +She left a note for her mother, saying that she would go with the wagon +to save the seven shilling stage fare. She knew she was making a heavy +purchase of "moments," and was sure she would be called upon for instant +payment that night when she should meet her mother. She was willing to +pay the price, whatever it might be, for the chariot of Phoebus would +have been a poor, tame conveyance compared with the golden car whereon +she rode. + +The sun was barely above the horizon, and the crisp, cold air was filled +with glittering frost dust when the wagons crossed Blue on the ice at +the ford below Bays's barn. The horses' breath came from their nostrils +like steam from kettle-spouts, and the tires, screaming on the frozen +snow, seemed to laugh for joy. It would have been a sad moment for Rita +had she not been with Dic; but with him by her side she did not so much +as turn her head for one backward look upon the home she was leaving. + +Dic wore a coat made from mink pelts which he had taken in the hunt, and +he so wrapped and enveloped Rita in a pair of soft bearskin robes that +the cold could not come near her. He covered her head, mouth, nose, and +cheeks with a great fur cap of his own; but he left her eyes exposed, +saying, "I must be able to see them, you know." As he fastened the +curtains of the cap under her chin, he received a flashing answer from +the eyes that would have warmed him had he been clothed in gossamer and +the mercury freezing in the bulb. + +If I were to tell you all the plans that were formulated upon that wagon +while it jolted and bumped over the frozen ruts of the Michigan road; if +I were to write down here all the words of hope and confidence in the +fickle future; if I were to tell you of the glances, touches, and words +of love that were given and spoken between sun-up and sun-down upon this +chariot of the gods--I will say of the blind god--I should never finish +writing, nor would you ever finish reading. + +It was:-- + +"You will write to me every day?" + +"Yes, every day." + +"You will think of me every day and night?" + +"Yes, Dic, every moment, and--" + +"You will come back to me soon--very soon?" + +"Yes, Dic, whenever you choose to take me." + +"And you will be brave against your mother?" + +"Yes, brave as I can be, for your sake, Dic. But you must not forget +that I cannot be very brave long at a time without help from you! Oh, +Dic, how can I bear to be so far away from you? I shall see you only on +Sundays; a whole week apart! You have never been from me so long since I +can remember till you went to New York. I told you trouble would come +from that trip; but you will come to me Sundays--by Saturday night's +stage?" + +"Yes, every Sunday." + +"Surely? You will never fail me? I shall die of disappointment if you +fail me once. All week I shall live on the hope of Sunday." + +"I'll come, Rita. You need not fear." + +"And Dic, you will not go often to see Sukey Yates, will you?" + +"I'll not speak to her, if you wish. She is nothing to me. I'll not go +near her." + +"No, I don't ask that. I fear I am very selfish. You will be lonely when +I am gone and--and you may go to see Sukey--and--and the other girls +once in a while. But you won't go too often to see Sukey and--and you +won't grow to caring for her--one bit, will you?" + +"I will not go at all." + +"Oh, but you must; I command you. You would think I do not trust you if +I would not let you go at all. I don't entirely trust her, though I am +sure I am wrong and wicked to doubt her; but I trust you, and would +trust you with any one." + +"I, too, trust you, Rita. It will be impossible for you to mistreat +Williams, associated as he is with your father. For the sake of peace, +treat him well, but--" + +"He shall never touch my hand, Dic; that I swear! I can't keep him from +coming to our house, but it will be torture when I shall be wanting you. +Oh, Dic--" and tears came before she could take her hands from under the +bearskins to cover her face. But as I said, I cannot tell you all the +plans and castles they built, nor shall I try. + +The wise man buildeth many castles, but he abideth not therein, lest +they crumble about his ears and crush him. Castles built of air often +fall of stone. Therefore, only the foolish man keeps revel in the great +hall or slumbers in the donjon-keep. + + * * * * * + +Early upon the second Sunday after the Bayses' advent to Indianapolis, +Dic, disdaining the stage, rode a-horseback and covered the distance +before noon. Mr. Bays and Tom received him with open arms. Rita would +have done likewise in a more literal sense could she have had him alone +for a moment. But you can see her smiles and hear her gentle heart +beats, even as Dic saw and heard them. A bunch of cold, bony fingers was +given to Dic by Mother Justice. When he arrived Williams was present +awaiting dinner, and after Mrs. Bays had given the cold fingers, she +said:-- + +"I suppose we'll have to try to crowd another plate on the table. We +didn't expect an extra guest." + +Rita endured without complaint her mother's thrusts when she alone +received them, but rebelled when Dic was attacked. In the kitchen she +told her mother that she would insult Williams if Mrs. Bays again +insulted Dic. The girl was so frightened by her own boldness that she +trembled, and although the mother's heart showed signs of weakness, +there was not time, owing to the scorching turkey, for a total collapse. +There was, however, time for a few random biblical quotations, and they +were almost as effective as heart failure in subduing the insolent, +disobedient, ungrateful, sacrilegious, wicked daughter for whom the fond +mother had toiled and suffered and endured, lo! these many years. + +When Rita and her mother returned to the front room to invite the guests +to dinner, Dic thanked Mrs. Bays, and said he would go to the tavern. +Rita's face at once became a picture of woe, but she was proud of Dic's +spirit, and gloried in his exhibition of self-respect. When Mrs. Bays +saw that Dic resented her insult, she insisted that he should remain. +She said there was plenty for all, and that there was more room at the +table than she had supposed. But Dic took his hat and started toward the +door. Tom tried to take the hat from his hand, saying:-- + +"Nonsense, Dic, you will stay. You must," and Mr. Bays said:-- + +"Come, come, boy, don't be foolish. It has been a long time since you +took a meal with us. It will seem like old times again. Put down your +hat." + +Dic refused emphatically, and Tom, taking up his own hat, said:-- + +"If Dic goes to the inn, I go with him. Mother's a damned old fool." I +wish I might have heard the undutiful son speak those blessed words! + +Williams was delighted when Rita did not insist upon Dic's remaining, +but his delight died ignominiously when the girl with tears in her eyes +took Dic's hand before them all and said:-- + +"Come back to me soon, Dic. I will be waiting for you." + +Our little girl is growing brave, but she trembles when she thinks of +the wrath to come. + +Dinner was a failure. Mrs. Bays thought only of the note payable on +demand, and feared that her offensive conduct to Dic might cause its +instant maturity. If the note had been in her own hands under similar +circumstances, and if she had been in Dic's place, she well knew that +serious results would have followed. She judged Dic by herself, and +feared she had made a mistake. + +There were but two modes of living in peace with this woman--even in +semi-peace. Domineer her coldly, selfishly, and cruelly as did Tom, and +she would be a worm; or submit to her domineering, be a worm yourself, +and she would be a tyrant. Those who insist on domineering others +usually have their way. The world is too good-natured and too lazy to +combat them. Fight them with their own weapons, and they become an easy +prey. Tom was his mother's own son. He domineered her, his father, and +Rita; but, like his mother, his domineering was inflicted only upon +those whose love for him made them unresisting. + +But I have wandered from the dinner. Rita sat by Williams, but she did +not eat, and vouchsafed to him only such words as were absolutely +necessary to answer direct questions. + +Williams was a handsome fellow, and many girls would have been glad to +answer his questions volubly. He, like Mrs. Bays, was of a domineering +nature, and clung to a purpose once formed with the combative tenacity +of a bull-dog or the cringing persistency of a hound. Success in all his +undertakings was his object, and he cared little about the means to +desired ends. Such a man usually attains his end; among other +consummations, he is apt to marry a rare, beautiful girl who hates him. + +"Dic is like a brother to Rita," said Mrs. Bays, in explanation of her +daughter's conduct. "Her actions may seem peculiar to a stranger, but +she could only feel for him the affection she might give to a brother." + +"Brother!" exclaimed Rita, in accent of contempt, though she did not +look up from her plate. The young lady was growing rebellious. Wait for +the reckoning, girl! Rita's red flag of rebellion silenced Mrs. Bays for +the time being, and she attempted no further explanations. + +Poor father Bays could think of nothing but Dic eating dinner at the +tavern. Rita trembled in rebellion, and was silent. After a time the +general chilliness penetrated even Williams's coat of polish, and only +the clinking of the knives and forks broke the uncomfortable stillness. +Dic was well avenged. + +Soon after dinner Tom and Dic returned. Tom went to the kitchen, and his +mother said:-- + +"Tom, my son, your words grieved me, and I--" + +"Oh, shut up," answered De Triflin'. "Your heart'll bust if you talk too +much. Do you want to make Dic sue us for the money we owe him, and throw +us out of business? Don't you know we would have to go back to Blue if +Dic asked for his money? If you hain't got any sense, you ought to keep +your mouth shut." + +"Tom, you should be ashamed," said Rita, looking reproachfully at her +brother. + +"You shut up too," answered Tom. "Go in and talk to your two beaux. God! +but you're popular. How are you going to manage them to-night?" + +That question had presented itself before, and Rita had not been able to +answer it. + +After Mrs. Bays had gone from the kitchen, Tom repeated his question:-- + +"How will you manage them to-night, Sis?" + +"I don't know," answered Rita, almost weeping. "I suppose Dic will go +away. He has more pride than--than the other. I suppose Mr. Williams +will stay. Tom, if you find an opportunity, I want you to tell Dic to +stay--tell him I want him to stay. He must stay with me until Williams +goes, even if it is all night. Please do this for me, brother, and I'll +do anything for you that you ask--I always do." + +But Tom laughed, and said, "No, I'll not mix in. I like Dic; but, Sis, +you're a fool if you don't take Williams. The Tousy girls would jump at +him. They were at the tavern, and laughed at Dic's country ways." + +Tom lied about the Tousy girls. They were splendid girls, and their +laughter had not been at Dic's country ways. In fact, the eldest Miss +Tousy had asked Tom the name of his handsome friend. + +Tom left Rita, and her tears fell unheeded as she finished the +after-dinner work. For ten days she had looked forward to this Sunday, +and after its tardy arrival it was full of grief, despite her joy at +seeing Dic. + +At two o'clock Williams left, and the remainder of the afternoon richly +compensated the girl for her earlier troubles. Tom went out, and about +four o'clock Mr. Bays went for a walk while Justice was sleeping +upstairs. During the father's absence, Dic and Rita had a delightful +half hour to themselves, during which her tongue made ample amends for +its recent silence, and talked such music to Dic as he had never before +heard. She had, during the past ten days, made memoranda of the subjects +upon which she wished to speak, fearing, with good reason, that she +would forget them all, in the whirl of her joy, if she trusted to +memory. So the memoranda were brought from a pocket, and the subjects +taken up in turn. To Dic that half hour was well worth the ride to +Indianapolis and home again. To her it was worth ten times ten days of +waiting, and the morning with its wretched dinner was forgotten. + +Mrs. Margarita, stricken by Tom's words, had been thinking all the +afternoon of the note payable on demand, and had grown to fear the +consequences of her conduct at dinner-time. She had hardly grown out of +the feeling that Dic was a boy, but his prompt resentment of her cold +reception awakened her to the fact that he might soon become a dangerous +man. Rita's show of rebellion also had an ominous look. She was nearing +the dangerous age of eighteen and could soon marry whom she chose. Dic +might carry her off, despite the watchfulness of open-eyed Justice, and +cause trouble with the note her husband had so foolishly given. All +these considerations moved Margarita, the elder, to gentleness, and when +she came downstairs she said:-- + +"Dic, I am surprised and deeply hurt. We always treat you without +ceremony, as one of the family, and I didn't mean that I didn't want you +to stay for dinner. I did want you, and you must stay for supper." + +Dic's first impulse was to refuse the invitation; but the pleading in +Rita's eyes was more than he could resist, and he remained. + +How different was the supper from the dinner! Rita was as talkative as +one could ask a girl to be, and Mrs. Bays would have referred to the +relative virtues of hearing and seeing girls, had she not been in +temporary fear of the demand note. Tom was out for supper with Williams. +Mr. Bays told all he knew; and even the icy dragoness, thawed by the +genial warmth, unbent to as great a degree as the daughter of Judge +Anselm Fisher might with propriety unbend, and was actually +pleasant--for her. After supper Dic insisted that Mrs. Bays should go to +the front room, and that he should be allowed, as in olden times, when +he was a boy, to assist Rita in "doing up" the after-supper work. So he, +wearing an apron, stood laughingly by Rita's side drying the dishes +while she washed them. There were not enough dishes by many thousand, +and when the paltry few before them had been dried and placed in a large +pan, Dic, while Rita's back was turned, poured water over them, and, of +course, they all had to be dried again. Rita laughed, and began her task +anew. + +"Who would have thought," she whispered, shrugging her shoulders, "that +washing dishes could be such pleasant work." + +Dic acknowledged his previous ignorance on the subject. He was for +interrupting the work semi-occasionally, but when the interruptions +became too frequent, she would say: "Don't, Dic," and laughingly push +him away. She was not miserly. She was simply frugal, and Dic had no +good reason to complain. After every dish had been washed and dried many +times, Rita started toward her torture chamber, the front room. + +At the door she whispered to Dic:-- + +"Mr.--that man is in there. He will remain all evening, and I want you +to stay till he goes." + +"Very well," responded Dic. "I don't like that sort of thing, but if you +wish, I'll stay till morning rather than leave him with you." + +Williams was on hand, and as a result Rita had no words for any one. +There was no glorious fireplace in the room, and consequently no cosey +ciphering log. In its place was an iron stove, which, according to Rita, +made the atmosphere "stuffy." + +Toward nine o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Bays retired, and the "sitting-out" +tournament began. The most courteous politeness was assumed by the +belligerent forces, in accordance with established custom in all +tournaments. + +The great clock in the corner struck ten, eleven, and twelve o'clock. +Still the champions were as fresh as they had been at nine. No one could +foretell the victor, though any one could easily have pointed out the +poor victim. After ten o'clock the conversation was conducted almost +entirely by Williams and Dic, with a low monosyllable now and then from +Rita when addressed. She, poor girl, was too sleepy to talk, even to +Dic. Soon after twelve o'clock the knight from Blue, pitying her, showed +signs of surrender; but she at once awoke and mutely gave him to +understand that she would hold him craven should he lower his lance +point while life lasted. The clock struck one. + +The champions had exhausted all modern topics and were beginning on old +Rome. Dic wondered what would be the hour when they should reach Greece +and Egypt in their backward flight. But after the downfall of Rome, near +the hour of two, Sir Roger was unhorsed, and went off to his castle and +to bed. Then Rita bade Dic good-by, after exacting from him a solemn +promise to return the next Sunday. + +Rita thought Dic's victory was a good omen, and drew much comfort from +it. She tried to lie awake to nurse her joy, but her eyes were so heavy +that she fell asleep in the midst of her prayer. + +Dic saddled his horse and started home. The sharp, crisp air was +delicious. The starlit sky was a canopy of never ceasing beauty, and +the song in his heart was the ever sweet song of hope. The four hours' +ride seemed little more than a journey of as many minutes; and when he +stabled his horse at home, just as the east was turning gray and the +sun-blinded stars were blinking, he said to himself:-- + +"A fifty-two-mile ride and twenty-four hours of +happiness,--anticipation, realization, and memory,--cheap!" + +He slept for two or three hours and hunted all day long. Tuesday's stage +brought a letter from Rita, and it is needless to speak of its +electrifying effect on Dic. There was a great deal of "I" and "me" and +"you" in the letter, together with frequent repetitions; but tautology, +under proper conditions, may have beauties of its own, not at all to be +despised. + +Dic went to town Tuesday evening and sat before Billy Little's fire till +ten o'clock, telling our worthy little friend of recent events. They +both laughed over the "sitting-out" tournament. + +"It begins to look as if you would get her," remarked Billy, leaning +forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees. He was +intensely jealous of Williams, and was eager to help Dic in any manner +possible. + +"I hope you are right, Billy Little," replied Dic. "When persons agree +as do Rita and I, there should be a law against outside interference." + +"There is such a law," answered Billy--"God's law, but most persons have +greater respect for a legislative statute." + +"I didn't know you were religious," said Dic. + +"Of course I am. Every man with any good in him is religious. One +doesn't have to be a Methodist, a Baptist, or a Roman Catholic to be +religious. But bless my soul, Dic, I don't want to preach." He leaned +forward looking into the fire, took his pipe from his mouth and, as +usual, hummed Maxwelton's braes. + +"If Rita were a different girl, my task would be easier," observed Dic. +"She is too tender-hearted and affectionate to see faults in any one who +is near to her. Notwithstanding her mother's cruelty and hypocrisy, Rita +loves her passionately and believes she is the best and greatest of +women. She stands in fear of her, too, and when the diabolical old fiend +quotes Scripture, no matter how irrelevantly, or has heart trouble, the +girl loses self-control and would give up her life if her mother wanted +it. Rita is a coward, too; but that is a sweet fault in a woman, and I +would not have her different in any respect. I believe Mrs. Bays has +greater respect for me since I lent the money. I could see the good +effect immediately." + +"Her respect would not have been so perceptible had you taken a note +payable in one or two years. Hold that demand note as a club over the +old woman, and perhaps you will get the girl." + +"Was that your reason for advising me to take the note payable on +demand?" asked Dic. + +"It was one of my reasons--perhaps the chief one." + +"Then I'll write to Mr. Bays asking him to draw a new note payable in +two years," said Dic. + +Billy took a small piece of paper, wrote a line or two, and handed it to +Dic, saying:-- + +"Sign this and deliver it to Williams when you take Bays's note due in +two years." + +The slip read, "Pay on demand to Roger Williams, Esq., one Rita Bays." + +Dic laughed nervously, and said: "I guess you're right, as usual. After +all, it is a shame that I should take her to my poor log-cabin when she +might have a mansion in Boston and all that money can buy. If I were an +unselfish man, I should release my claims to her." A silence of several +moments ensued, during which Billy drew the leather trunk from under the +bed and took a fresh letter from the musty package we have already +seen. He drew his chair near to the candle, slipped the letter from its +envelope, and slowly read its four pages to himself. After gazing at the +fire for several minutes in meditation he said:-- + +"I received a Christmas gift, Dic. It came from England. I got it this +morning. It is the miniature of an old friend. I have not seen or heard +from her in thirty years. I also have a letter. If you wish, you may be +the only person in all the world, save myself, to read it." + +"Indeed, I'll be glad--if you wish me to read it. You know I am deeply +interested in all that touches you." + +"I believe I know," answered Billy, handing him the letter across the +table. Dic read to himself:-- + + + ----, ENGLAND, 18 + + "MY DEAR FRIEND: Each Christmas day for many years have I written a + letter to you, but none of them have ever been seen by any eyes + save my own. I have always intended sending them to you, but my + courage upon each occasion has failed me, and none of them has ever + reached you. This one I mean to send. I wonder if I shall do so? + How many years is it, my friend, since that day, so full of + pain,--ah, so full of pain,--when I returned the ring you had given + me, and you released me to another. In your letter you made + pretence that you did not suffer, knowing that I would suffer for + the sake of your pain. But you did not deceive me. I knew then, as + I know now, that you released me because you supposed the position + and wealth which were offered me would bring happiness. But, my + friend, that was a mistaken generosity. Life has been rich in many + ways. I have wealth and exalted position, and am honored and envied + by many. My husband is a good, kind man. I have no children and am + thankful in lacking them. A woman willingly bears children only + for the man she loves. But, oh, my friend, the weariness that never + ceases, the yearning that never stops, the dull pain that never + really eases, have turned me gray, and I am old before my time. I + fear the longing and the pain are sinful, and nightly I pray God to + take them from my heart. At times He answers, in a degree, my + prayers, and I almost forget; but again, He forsakes me, and at + those moments my burden seems heavier than I can bear. One may + easily endure if one has a bright past or a happy future to look + upon. One may live over and over again one's past joys, or may draw + upon a hopeful future; but a dead, ashen past, a barren present, + and a hopeless future bring us at times to rebellion against an + all-wise God because He has given us life. Time is said to heal all + wounds; but it has failed with me, and they, I fear, will ache so + long as I live. I suppose you, too, are old, though you will always + be young to me, and doubtless the snow is also in your hair. I, + sinful one that I am, send you with this letter, my miniature and a + lock of my hair, that you may realize the great change that has + been wrought in me by time. This letter I surely will post. May it + take to you in the wilderness a part of my wretchedness, for so + selfish am I that I would take comfort in knowing that I do not + suffer alone. I retract the last sentence and in its place ask, not + that you suffer, but that you do not forget. In health I am blessed + beyond my deserts, and I hope the same comfort abides with you. You + will hear from me never again. I have allowed myself this one + delightful moment of sin, and God, I know, will give me strength + against another. I wish you all the good that one human being can + wish another. + + "Regretfully, fondly, farewell. + + "RITA." + + +Dic, almost in tears, returned the letter to Billy Little, and that +worthy man, wishing to rob the scene of its sentimentality, said:-- + +"She says she supposes my hair is gray! She doesn't know I am as bald as +a gourd. Here is her miniature. I'll not send her mine; she might +laugh." + +Dic took the picture and saw a sweet, tender face, fringed by white +curls, and aglow with soft, brown eyes. + +"Do you see a resemblance in the miniature to--to any one you know?" +asked Billy Little. + +"By George!" exclaimed Dic, holding the picture at arm's length, +"Rita--her mouth, her eyes; the same name, too," and he kissed the +miniature rapturously. + +"Look here, young fellow," cried Billy Little. "Hand me that miniature. +You shan't be kissing all my female friends. By Jove! if she were to +come over here, I'd drive you out of the settlement with a shot-gun, +'deed if I wouldn't. Now you will probably change your mind about +unselfishly surrendering Rita to Williams. I tell you, Dic, a fool +conscience is more to be dreaded than a knavish heart." + +"You are always right, Billy Little, though, to tell you the truth, I +had no intention whatever of surrendering Rita to any one," returned +Dic. + +"I know you hadn't. Of course I knew you could not even have spoken +about it had you any thought that it might be possible." + + + + +A KISS AND A DUEL + +CHAPTER XI + +A KISS AND A DUEL + + +I shall not attempt to give you an account of Dic's numerous journeyings +to Indianapolis. With no abatement in affection, the period of his +visits changed from weekly to fortnightly, and then to monthly. +Meantime, Williams was adroitly plying his suit; and by convincing Rita +that he had abandoned the role of lover for that of friend, he succeeded +in regaining her confidence. As agent for his father's products, he had +an office at Indianapolis, and large sums of money passed through his +hands. He and Tom became great cronies, for it was Williams's intention +to leave no stone unturned, the turning of which might assist him in +winning Rita. His passion for the girl became almost desperate at times, +and her unmistakable coldness added fuel to the flame. He well knew she +did not love him; but, like many another mistaken man, he believed he +could teach her that great lesson if she were his wife, and could not +believe that she entertained either a serious or a lasting sentiment for +so inferior a person as Diccon Bright. Williams had invariably found +smooth sailing with other young ladies; and head winds in Rita's case +caused the harbor to appear fairer than any other for which he had ever +trimmed his sails. + +Soon after Rita's entrance into Indianapolis society she became popular +with the fair sex and admired of the unfair; that condition, in my +opinion, being an unusual triumph for any young woman. To that end +Williams was of great assistance. A rich, cultured society man of Boston +was sure to cut a great figure among the belles and mothers of a small +frontier town. The girl whom Williams delighted to honor necessarily +assumed importance in the eyes of her sisters. In most cases they would +have disliked her secretly in direct ratio to the cube of their outward +respect; but Rita was so gentle and her beauty was so exquisite, yet +unassertive, that the girl soon numbered among her friends all who knew +her. There were the Tousy and the Peasly girls, the Wright girls and the +Morrisons, to say nothing of the Smiths, Browns, and Joneses, many of +whom were the daughters of cultured parents. If any one nowadays +believes that Indianapolis--little spot in the wilderness though it +was--lacked refined society during the thirties, he is much mistaken. +Servants were scarce, and young ladies of cultured homes might any day +be called upon to cook the dinner or the supper, and afterward to "do +up" the work; but they could leave the kitchen after preparing a good +meal, walk into the parlor and play Beethoven and Mozart with credit to +themselves and their instructors, and pleasure to their audience. They +could leave the piano and discuss Shakespeare, Addison, Dick Steele, +Provost, and Richardson; and, being part of the immutable feminine, +could also discuss their neighbors upon occasion, and speak earnestly +upon the serious subject of frocks and frills. As to beauty--but that is +a benediction granted to all times and places, creating more or less +trouble everywhere. + +The Tousy girls, having wealth, beauty, and numbers--there were five of +them, ranging in years from fifteen to twenty-five--led the social +march; and they at once placed the stamp of unqualified approval upon +our little country girl from Blue. The eldest of the Tousy brood was, of +course, Miss Tousy; then came Sue, Kate, and the others, both of whom, +naturally, had names of their own. Miss Tousy will soon make her +appearance again in these pages for a short time. Her own romance I +should like to tell you some day. + + * * * * * + +The firm of Fisher and Fox thrived famously during the first few months +of their partnership, and that Tom might not be ashamed of Rita when in +society, Mrs. Bays consented that she should have some new gowns, hats, +and wraps. All this fine raiment pleased Dic for Rita's sake, and +troubled him for his own. + +The first he saw of the new gowns was on a certain bright Sunday +afternoon in spring. Rita's heart had been divided between two desires: +she longed to tell Dic in her letters of her beautiful new gowns, but +she also wished to surprise him. By a masterful effort she took the +latter course, and coming downstairs after dinner upon the Sunday +mentioned she burst suddenly upon Dic in all her splendor. Her delight +was so intense that she could not close her lips for smiling, and Dic +was fairly stunned by her grandeur and beauty. She turned this way and +that, directing him to observe the beautiful tints and the fashionable +cut of her garments, and asked him if the bonnet with its enormous +"poke," filled with monster roses, was not a thing of beauty and a joy +so long as it should last. Dic agreed with her, and told her with truth +that he had never seen a fashion so sweet and winsome. Then he received +his reward, after being cautioned not to disturb the bonnet, and they +started out for a walk in the sunshine. + +Dic's garments were good enough,--he had bought them in New York,--but +Rita's outfit made his clothes look poor and rusty. Ever since her +residence in Indianapolis he had felt the girl slipping away from him, +and this new departure in the matter of dress seemed to be a further +departure in the matter of Rita. In that conclusion he was wrong. The +girl had been growing nearer to him day by day. Her heart belonged to +him more entirely than it had even on the banks of Blue, and she longed +for the sycamore divan and the royal canopy of elm. Still, she loved her +pretty gowns. + +"I am almost afraid of you," said Dic, when he had closed the gate and +was taking his place beside her for the walk. + +"Why?" asked Rita, delightedly. Her heart was full of the spring and +Dic; what more could she desire? + +"Your gown, your bonnet, your dainty shoes, your gloves, your beauty, +all frighten me," said Dic. "I can't believe they belong to me. I can't +realize they are mine." + +"But they are," she said, flashing up to him a laughing glance from her +eyes. "My new gown should not frighten you." + +"But it does," he returned, "and you, too." + +"I am glad if I frighten you," she answered, while lacing her gloves. "I +have been afraid of you long enough. It is your turn now." + +"You have been afraid of me?" asked Dic in surprise. + +"Yes," she returned quite seriously. "I have always been slightly afraid +of you, and I hope I always shall be. The night of Scott's social I was +simply frightened to death, and before that night for a long, long time +I was in constant fear of you. I was afraid you would speak of--you +know--and I was afraid you would not. I did not know what terrible +catastrophe would happen if you did speak, and I did not know what would +happen to me if you did not. So you see I have always been afraid of +you," she said laughingly. + +"Why, Rita, I would not harm a hair of your head." + +"Of course not. I did not fear you in that way. You are so strong and +big and masterful; that is what frightens me. Perhaps I enjoy fearing +you just a bit." + +"But you are so much grander than I," returned Dic, "that you seem to be +farther from me than ever before." + +"Farther?" she asked in surprise. + +"Yes, you seem to be drifting from me ever since you came to +Indianapolis," he returned. + +"Ah, Dic, I have been feeling just the reverse," and her eyes opened +wide as she looked into his without faltering. There was not a thought +in all their gentle depths she would not gladly have him know. A short +silence ensued, during which she was thinking rapidly, and her thoughts +produced these remarkable words:-- + +"You should have taken me long ago." Dic wondered how he might have +taken her; but failing to discover any mistake, he went on:-- + +"I am going to New York again this spring and,--and you will be past +eighteen when I return. You can then marry me without your mother's +consent, if you will. Will you go home with me when I return?" + +The eyes and the face were bent toward the ground, but the lips +whispered distinctly, "Yes, Dic," and that young man bitterly regretted +the publicity of their situation. + +Soon our strollers met other young persons, and Dic was presented. All +were dressed in holiday attire, and the young man from Blue felt that +his companion and her friends outshone him completely. Rita was proud of +him, and said as much in reply to Dic's remark when they resumed their +walk. + +"You might come to see me during the week, when the stores are open," +she said, "and you might buy one of the new-fashioned hats. If you can +afford it, you might order a long coat for Sunday. Polished shoes would +look well, too; but I am satisfied with you as you are. I only suggest +these purchases because you seem to feel uncomfortable." + +After Rita's suggestion he did feel uncomfortable. He had earned no +money since his return from New York, and Rita's fine feathers had been +purchased by the proceeds of his twenty-six hundred dollars invested in +her father's business. Therefore, hat, coat, and shoes were not within +his reach unless he should go into debt, and that he had no thought of +doing. + +With her husband's increasing prosperity, Mrs. Bays grew ever more +distant in her manner toward Dic. Rita, having once learned that +rebellion did not result in instant death to her or to her parent, had +taken courage, and governed her treatment of Williams by her mother's +conduct toward Dic. Therefore Justice, though stern, was never +insulting. + +After Rita's suggestion bearing upon the coat, Dic, though ardently +desiring to see her, dreaded to go to Indianapolis, and at that time his +visits became monthly, much to Rita's grief. She complained in her +letters, and her gentle reproaches were pathetic and painful to Dic. + +Tom frequently visited the old home, and, incidentally, Sukey Yates, +upon whom his city manner and fashionable attire made a tremendous +impression. Returning home from his visits to Sukey, Tom frequently +spoke significantly of Dic's visits to that young lady's ciphering log, +and Rita winced at her brother's words, but said nothing. Miss Yates +probably multiplied the number of Dic's visits by two or more in +speaking of them to Tom, having in mind the double purpose of producing +an effect upon that young man and also upon his sister. But there was +too much truth in her boasting, since our hero certainly submitted +himself to Sukey's blandishments and placed himself under the fatal +spell of her dimples with an increasing frequency which was to be +lamented. Especially was it lamented by Billy Little. Sukey was so +perfect a little specimen of the human animal, and her heart was so +prone to tenderness, that she became, upon intimate acquaintance, the +incarnation of that condition into which the right sort of people pray +kind Providence to lead them not. The neighborhood gossips and prophets +freely predicted that Rita would marry Williams, in which case it was +surmised Miss Yates would carry her dimples into the Bright family. This +theory Sukey encouraged by arch glances and shy denials. + +Tom had become a great dandy, and considered himself one of the +commercial features of the Indiana metropolis. He would have his old +home friends, including Sukey, believe that he directed the policy of +Fisher and Fox, and that he was also the real business brain in the +office of Roger Williams, where he occupied the position of confidential +clerk. He was of little real value to Williams, save in the matter of +wooing Tom's sister. Tom knew that he held his clerkship only by the +tenure of Rita's smiles, and Williams, by employing him, gained an ally +not at all to be despised. + +On a certain Monday morning, after Rita had the day previous shown +marked preference to Dic, Williams said:-- + +"Tom, father orders me to cut down expenses, and I fear I shall be +compelled to begin with your salary. I regret the necessity, but the +governor's orders are imperative. We will let it stand as it is for this +month and will see what can be done afterward." + +This gentle hint was not lost on Thomas. He went home that day to +dinner, and Rita felt the heavy hand of her brother's displeasure. + +"You are the most selfish, ungrateful girl living," said Tom, who +honestly thought his fair sister had injured him. Tom's sense of truth, +like his mother's, ran parallel to his wishes. + +"Why?" asked Rita, wonderingly. Had the earth slipped from its axis, +Tom and his mother would have placed the blame on Rita. + +"Why?" repeated Tom. "Because you know I have a good position with +Williams. He pays me a better salary than any one else would give me; +yet you almost insulted him yesterday and went off for a walk with that +country jake." + +"Isn't Dic your friend?" asked Rita. + +"No, of course he ain't," replied Tom. "Do you think I'd take him out +calling, with such clothes as he wears, to see any of the girls?" + +"I hope not," answered Rita, struggling with a smile. + +"No, sir," insisted Tom, "and if I lose my place because you mistreat +Williams on Dic's account, he shan't come into this house. Do you +understand? If he does, I'll kick him out." + +"You kick Dic!" returned Rita, laughing. "You would be afraid to say +'boo' to him. Tom, I should be sorry to see you after you had tried to +kick Dic." + +"Well, I'll tell you now, Sis," said Tom, threateningly, "you treat +Williams right. If you don't, your big, jakey friend will suffer." + +"It is on Dic's capital that father is making so much money," responded +Rita. "Had it not been for him we would still be on Blue. I certainly +wish we were back there." + +"Your father will soon pay Dic his money," said Mrs. Bays, solemnly, +"and then we will be free to act as we wish." + +"The debt to Dic is no great thing," said Tom. "The firm owes Williams +nearly four times that amount, and he isn't a man who will stand much +foolishness. Father is not making so much money, either, as you think +for, and the first thing you know, with your smartness, you will ruin +him and me both, if you keep on making a fool of yourself. But that +wouldn't hurt you. You don't think of nobody but yourself." + +"That has always been Rita's chief fault," remarked the Chief Justice, +sitting in solemn judgment upon a case that was not before her. Poor +Rita was beginning to feel that she was a monster of selfishness. Her +father came feebly to her defence. + +"I don't believe the girl lives," said Thomas, Sr., "who is less selfish +than Rita. But Fisher and I do owe Williams a great deal of money, and +are not making as much as we did at first. The crops failed last summer, +and collections are hard. Williams has been pressing for money, and I +hope all the family will treat him well, for he is the kind of man who +might take out his spite upon me, for the sake of getting even with +somebody else." + +Rita's heart sank. Her father, though a weak vassal, had long been her +only ally. + +Had Williams not been a suitor for her hand, Rita would have found him +agreeable; and if her heart had been free, he might have won it. So long +as he maintained the attitude of friend and did not conflict with Dic's +claims, he was well received; but when he became a lover--a condition +difficult to refrain from--she almost hated and greatly feared him. +Despite her wretchedness, she accepted his visits and invitations for +her father's sake, and at times felt that she was under the spell of a +cruel wizard from Boston. With all these conditions, the battle of Dic's +wooing, though he held the citadel,--Rita's heart,--was by no means an +even fight. There were other causes operating that might eventually rout +him, even from that citadel. + +One evening, while sitting before Billy Little's fire, Dic's campaign +was discussed in detail. The young man said:-- + +"Rita and I are to be married soon after I return from New York. If her +mother consents, well and good; if she refuses, we will bear up +manfully under her displeasure and ignore it. I have often thought of +your remark about Mrs. Bays as a mother-in-law." + +"She certainly would be ideal," responded Billy. "But I hope you will +get the girl. She's worth all the trouble the old lady can make." + +"Why do you say 'hope'?" asked Dic. "I'm sure of getting her. Why, Billy +Little, if I were to lose that girl, I believe I should go mad." + +"No, you wouldn't," returned his friend. "You would console yourself +with the dimpler." + +"Why, Billy Little, you are crazy--excuse me--but you don't understand," +expostulated Dic. "For me, all that is worth possessing in the whole big +universe is concentrated in one small bit of humanity. Her little body +encompasses it all. Sukey Yates could be nothing to me, even though I +cared nothing for Rita. She has too many other friends, as she calls +them, and probably is equally generous to all." + +"If you care for Rita, you should remain away from Sukey," remarked +Billy. "She may be comprehensive in her affections, and she may have +been--to state it mildly--overtender at times; but when a girl of her +ardent temperament falls in love, she becomes dangerous, because she is +really very attractive to the eye." + +"I don't go there often, and I'll take your advice and remain away. I +have feared the danger you speak of, but--" + +"Speak out, Dic; you may trust me," said Billy. Dic continued:-- + +"I don't like to speak of a girl as I was going to speak of Sukey, but +I'll explain. I have, of course, been unable to explain to Rita, and I'm +a selfish brute to go to Sukey's at all. Rita has never complained, but +there is always a troubled look in her eyes when she jestingly speaks +of Sukey as my 'other girl.' Well, it's this way: Sukey often comes to +see mother, who prefers her to Rita, and if she comes in the evening, of +course I take her home. I believe I have not deliberately gone over to +see her three times in all my life. Sometimes I ride home from church +with her and spend part of the evening. Sukey is wonderfully pretty, and +her health is so good that at times she looks like a little nymph. She +is, in a way, entertaining too. As you say, she appeals to the eye, and +when she grows affectionate, her purring and her dimples make a +formidable array not at all to be despised. You are right. She is the +same to a score of men, and I could not fall in love with her were she +the only girl on earth. I should be kicked for speaking so of her or of +any girl, but you know I would not speak so freely to any one but you. +Speaking to you seems almost like thinking." + +"If it makes you think, I shall be glad you spoke," answered Billy. + +"No more Sukey for me," said Dic. "I'll have nothing more to do with +her. I want to be decent and worthy of Rita. I want to be true to her, +and Sukey is apt to lead me in the other direction, without even the +excuse on my part of caring for her. An honest man will not deliberately +lead himself into temptation." + +Upon the Sunday previous to Dic's intended departure for New York he +visited Rita. He had made this New York trip once before, and had +returned safely, therefore its terrors for Rita were greatly reduced. +Her regret on account of the second expedition was solely because she +would be separated from Dic for three or four months, and that +bitterness was sweetened by the thought that she would have him always +after his return. + +"How shall I act while you are away?" she asked. "Shall I continue to +receive Mr. Williams, or shall I refuse to see him? You must decide for +me, and I'll act as you wish. You know how unhappy mother will be if I +refuse to see him and--and, you know she will be very severe with me. I +would not care so much for that, although her harshness hurts me +terribly. But mother's in bad health--her heart is troubling her a great +deal of late--and I can't bear to cause her pain. On the other hand, it +tortures me when that man comes near me, and it must pain you when I +receive him kindly. I can't bear to pain you and--and at times I fear if +I permit his attention you will--will doubt me. That would kill me, Dic; +I really believe it would." + +"Don't worry on that score," replied Dic, placing his hand on her heart, +"there is nothing but truth here." + +"I hope not, Dic," she replied. She could not boast even of her +fidelity. There might be many sorts of evil in that heart, for all she +knew. + +"Indeed, there is not," said Dic, tenderly. "If by any chance we should +ever be separated,--if we should ever lose each other,--it will not be +because of your bad faith." + +"But, Dic," cried Rita, "that terrible 'if.' It is the first time you +ever used the word with reference to us." + +"It means nothing, Rita," answered Dic, reassuringly. "There can be no +'if' between you and me. As for Williams, you must receive him and treat +him kindly. Tom is his clerk, and I should hate to see Tom lose his +position. Tom is a mighty good fellow. You say your father owes Williams +a large debt. He might, if he chose, act ugly. Therefore, you must act +prettily. Poor Williams! I'm sorry for him. We will give them all the +slip when I return." + +The slip came in an unexpected manner, and Dic did not go to New York. + +Rita's continued aversion to Williams, instead of cooling that young +man's ardor, fired it to a degree previously unknown in the cool-blooded +Williams family. He had visited his cultured home for the purpose of +dilating upon the many charms of body, soul, and mind possessed by this +fair girl of the wilderness. His parents, knowing him to be a young man +of sound Mayflower judgment and worthy to be trusted for making a good, +sensible bargain in all matters of business, including matrimony, +readily gave their consent, and offered him his father's place at the +head of the agricultural firm, in case he should marry. They were wise +enough to know that a young man well married is a young man well made; +and they had no doubt, judging from Roger's description, that Rita was +the girl of girls. + +Williams did not tell his parents that up to that time his wooing had +been in vain, and they, with good reason, did not conceive it possible +that any girl in her right mind would refuse their son. Roger was +willing, Roger's parents were willing, Rita's parents were eager for the +match; every person and everything needful were on his side, save one +small girl. Roger thought that trifling obstacle would soon yield to the +pressure of circumstances, the persuasion of conditions, and the charm +of his own personality. He and the conditions had been warring upon the +small obstacle for many months, and still it was as small as ever--but +no smaller. The non-aggressive, feather-bed stubbornness of +insignificant obstacles is often very irritating to an enterprising +soul. + +Williams was a fine, intellectual fellow, and his knowledge of human +nature had enabled him to estimate--at least to approximate--the +inestimable value of the girl he so ardently desired. Her rare beauty +would, he thought, grace a palace; while her manifold virtues and good +common-sense would accomplish a much greater task, and grace a home. +Added to these reasons of state was a passionate love on the part of +Williams of which any woman might have been proud. Williams was, +ordinarily, sure-footed, and would have made fewer mistakes in his +wooing had his love been less feverish. He also had a great fund of +common-sense, but love is inimical to that rare commodity, and under the +blind god's distorting influence the levelest head will, in time, become +conical. So it happened that, after many months of cautious +manoeuvring, Williams began to make mistakes. + +For the sake of her parents and Tom, Rita had treated Williams with +quiet civility, and when she learned that she could do so without +precipitating a too great civility on his part, she gathered confidence +and received him with undisguised cordiality. Roger, in his eagerness, +took undue hope. Believing that the obstacle had become very small, he +determined, upon occasion, to remove it entirely, by one bold stroke. +Rita's kindness and Roger's growing hope and final determination to try +the issue of one pivotal battle, all came into being during the period +when Dic had reduced his visits to one month. The final charge by the +Boston 'vincibles was made on the evening following Dic's visit +last-mentioned. + +An ominous quiet had reigned in the Williams camp for several months, +and the beleaguered city, believing that hostilities had ceased, was +lulled into a state of unwatchfulness, which, in turn, had given great +hope to the waiting cohorts. + +Upon the Monday evening referred to, the girl commanding the beleaguered +forces received the enemy, whom she wished might be her friend, into her +outworks, the front parlor. Little dreaming that a perfidious Greek was +entering her Trojan gates, she laughed and talked charmingly, hoping, if +possible, to smooth the road for her father and Tom by the help of her +all-powerful smiles. Poor and weak she considered those smiles to be; +but the Greek thought them wondrous, and coveted them as no Greek ever +coveted Troy. Feeling that Williams sought only her friendship, and +being more than willing to give him that, she was her natural self, and +was more winsome and charming than she had ever before appeared to him. +Her graciousness, which he should have been wise enough to understand +but did not, her winsomeness and beauty, which he should have been +strong enough to withstand but was not, and his love, which he tried to +resist but could not, induced him upon that evening to make an attack. + +Many little items of local interest had been discussed, foreign affairs +were touched upon, books, music, and the blessed weather had each been +duly considered, and short periods of silence had begun to occur, +together with an occasional smothered yawn from Rita. Williams, with the +original purpose of keeping the conversation going and with no intent to +boast, said:-- + +"My father has purchased a new home in Boston beyond the Common, over on +the avenue, and has offered to give me his old house. He has determined +to retire from the firm and I am to take his place. I shall start for +Boston Christmas Day"--here his self-control forsook him--"and, Rita, if +you will go with me, I shall be the happiest man on earth." + +The girl remained silent, feeling that he knew her mind on the subject, +and hoping he would proceed no farther. Hope, spurred by desire, is +easily awakened, and Williams, misunderstanding her silence, +continued:-- + +"I do not mean to boast, but I cannot help telling you that your home in +Boston, if you will go with me, will be one of the most beautiful in the +city. All that wealth can buy you shall have, and all that love and +devotion can bring you shall possess. Other girls would jump at the +chance--" (poor conical head--this to this girl) "but I want you, +Rita--want you of all the world." + +Rita rose to her feet, surprised and alarmed by this Grecian trick, and +Williams, stepping quickly to her side, grasped her hand. He had lost +his wonted self-control and was swept forward by the flood of his +long-pent-up emotions. + +"Mr. Williams, I beg you will not--" cried Rita, endeavoring to withdraw +her hand. + +"You shall listen to me," he cried, half in anger, half pleadingly. "I +have loved you as tenderly and unselfishly as woman ever was loved, +since I first knew you. I know I am not worthy of you, but I am the +equal of any other man, and you shall treat me fairly." + +The girl, in alarm, struggled to free herself from his grasp, but he +held her and continued:-- + +"No other man can give you the love I feel for you, and you shall +respond to it." + +"It is impossible, Mr. Williams," she said pleadingly. "You do not know +all. I am sorry, so sorry, to give you pain." Her ever ready tears began +to flow. "But I do not feel toward you as you wish. I--there is another. +He is--has been very near to me since I was a child, and I have promised +to be his wife this long time." + +Her words were almost maddening to Williams, and he retorted as if he +were, in truth, mad. + +"That country fellow? You shall never marry him! I swear it! He is a +poor, supercilious fool and doesn't know it! He has nothing in this +world, and has never seen anything beyond the limits of his father's +farm." + +"He has been to New York," interrupted Rita, in all seriousness. + +Williams laughed. "I tell you he is a boor. He is a--" + +"He is to be my husband, Mr. Williams, and I hope you will not speak +ill of him," said Rita, with cold dignity. + +"He is not to be your husband," cried Williams, angrily. "You shall be +mine--mine; do you hear? Mine! I will have you, if I must--" he caught +the girl in his arms, and pressing her head back upon the bend of his +elbow, kissed her lips to his heart's content and to his own everlasting +undoing. When he released her she started from the room, but he, +grasping her arm, detained her, saying:-- + +"Rita, I beg your pardon. I lost my head. I am sorry. Forgive me." + +"There can be no forgiveness for you," she said, speaking slowly, "and I +wish you to let me leave the room." + +"Rita, forgive me," he pleaded. "I tell you I was insane when I--I did +that. You have almost driven me mad. You can surely forgive me when you +know that my act was prompted by my love. Your heart is ready with +forgiveness and love for every one but me, and I, more than all others, +love you. I beg you to forgive me, and if I cannot have your love, +forget what I have done this night and again be my friend." + +After a long, painful pause, she spoke deliberately: "I would not marry +you, Mr. Williams, if you were a king, or if I should die by reason of +refusing you. I cannot now be even your friend. I shall tell my father +and brother what you have done, and they will order you out of this +house. I will tell Dic, and he will kill you!" Her eyes, usually so +gentle, were hard and cold, as she continued: "There is the door. I hope +you will never darken it again." + +She again started to leave the room, and he again detained her. He knew +that disgrace would follow exposure, and, being determined to silence +her at any cost, said angrily:-- + +"If you tell your father, I will take from him his store, his home, his +farm. He owes me more than all combined are worth. If you will not +listen to me through love, you shall do so from fear. I am sorry, very +sorry, for what happened. I know the consequences if you speak of it. No +one can be made to understand exactly how it happened, and I will +protect myself; of that you may be sure. If you speak of what I did, +driven to it by my love for you, I say I will turn your father and +mother into the street. They will be penniless in their old age. Your +brother Tom is a thief. He has been stealing from me ever since he came +to my office. Only last night I laid a trap for him and caught him in +the act of stealing fifty dollars. He took the money and lost it at +Welch's gambling saloon. He has taken, in all, nearly a thousand +dollars. I have submitted to his thefts on your account. I have extended +your father's notes because he is your father. But if you tell any one +that I--I kissed you to-night, or if you repeat what I have told +concerning your father and brother, your parents go to the street, and +Tom to the penitentiary. Now, do you understand me?" + +"Yes." + +"Will you remain silent?" + +"Yes." + +Then he took his hat, saying, "I have been beside myself to-night, but +it was through love for you, and you will forgive me, won't you?" + +"Yes." + +"And I may come again?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"And we will forget all that has happened this evening and you will be +my friend?" + +"Yes." + +"If you will forgive me," he continued, recovering his senses, "and will +allow me the sweet privilege of your friendship, I promise never again +to speak of my love until you have given me permission. Shall it be a +compact?" + +"Yes," murmured the girl. + +"Will you give me your hand?" he asked. She offered the hand, and he +clasping it, said:-- + +"You have much to forgive, but your heart is full of gentleness, and you +have promised." + +"Yes, I have promised," she returned huskily. + +"Good night, Rita." + +"Good night." + +The girl hurried to her room, and, almost unconscious of what she was +doing, dressed for the night. During the first few minutes after she had +extinguished the candle and had crept into bed, she could not think +coherently, but soon consciousness came in an ingulfing flood. +Williams's kisses seemed to stick to her. She rubbed her lips till they +were raw, but still the clinging pollution seemed to penetrate to her +soul. Her first coherent thought, of course, was of Dic. No man but he +had ever, till that night, touched her lips, and with him a kiss was a +sacrament. Now he would scorn her. The field of her disaster seemed to +broaden, as she thought of it, and with the chastity of her lips she +felt that she had lost everything worth having in life. Abandoning her +pillow, she covered her head with the counterpane, and drawing her knees +to her breast, lay trembling and sobbing. Dic was lost to her. There +seemed to be no other possible outcome to the present situation. She +feared Williams as never before, and felt that she was in his clutches +beyond escape. The situation seemed hopeless beyond even the reach of +prayer, her usual refuge, and she did not pray. She knew of her father's +debt to Williams, and had always feared that Tom was not to be trusted. +She was convinced without evidence other than Williams's words that he +had told the truth, and she knew that ruin and disgrace for her father +and Tom waited upon a nod from the man whom she hated, and that the nod +waited upon her frown. + +The next morning Rita's face lacked much of its wonted beauty. Her eyes +were red and dim, the cheeks were pale and dim, her lips were blue and +dim, and all the world, seen by her eyes, was dark and dim. The first +thing that must be done, of course, was to tell Dic of the ravaged kiss. +She had no more desire to conceal that terrible fact from him than a +wounded man has to deceive the surgeon. He must be told without delay, +even should he at once spurn her forever. + +She feared Williams, bearing in mind his threat, and determined first to +pledge Dic to secrecy, and then to tell him of her disgrace. She wrote +to him, begging him to come to her at once; and he lost no time in +going. + +He arrived at the Bays house an hour past noon, and Rita soon had him to +herself in the front parlor. When they entered the room and were alone +he took her hand; but she withdrew it, saying:-- + +"No, no; wait till you hear what has happened." + +He readily saw that something terrible had transpired. "What is it, +Rita? Tell me quickly." + +"I can't, Dic, till I have your solemn promise that you will never +repeat what I am about to tell you." + +"But, Rita--" he began, in expostulation. + +"No--no, you must promise. You must swear--if you will hear." + +"I promise. I swear if you wish. What can it be?" + +Then she drew him to a settee, and with downcast eyes began her piteous +story. + +"Monday evening Mr. Williams came to call upon me. You know you said I +must receive him kindly. I did so. And he again asked me to--to--you +know--to marry him. When I told him it was impossible, he grew angry; +and when I became frightened and tried to leave the room, he caught me +by the hand and would not let me go. Then he told me again how +desperately he cared for me; and when I answered angrily and tried to +escape, he held me and--and--oh, Dic, I can't tell you. I thought I +could, but I can't. I--I loathe myself." She bent her head forward, and +covering her face with her hands, sobbed convulsively. + +"Go on, Rita. My God! you must tell me," demanded Dic. + +"I know I must," she replied between sobs. "Oh, Dic, do not hate me. He +held me to him as you sometimes do,--but, oh, it was so different. I was +helpless, and he bent back my head and kissed me on the lips till I +thought I should faint." + +"The cowardly hound. He shall pay dearly for his--" + +"I have your promise, your oath," said the girl, interrupting him. + +"But, Rita--" + +"I trusted you, Dic, and I know you will faithfully keep your promise. +Father owes Williams a large sum of money, and Tom has been stealing +from him." Here she began to weep. "He will ruin father and send Tom to +the penitentiary if he learns that I have told you this. He told me he +would, and I promised I would tell no one; but my duty to you is higher +than my duty to keep my promise. Now you know why I held you off when we +came in here." + +"No, I don't know," he replied. "You have not promised to marry him?" + +"No, no," she returned excitedly. + +"Then why did you refuse me?" + +"I'm not worthy to be your wife. I feel that I have been contaminated," +she answered. + +"No, no, girl," he cried joyfully. "It was not your fault. The falling +snow is not purer than you, and truth itself is not truer than your +heart. I go to New York soon, and when I return all your troubles will +cease." + +"They have ceased already, Dic," she murmured, placing her head upon his +breast, while tears fell unheeded over her cheeks. "I thought an hour +ago I should never again be happy, but I am happy already. Dic, you are +a wonderful man to produce such a change in so short a time." + +"I am wonderful only in what you give me," he answered. + +"How beautifully you speak," she whispered; but the remainder of that +interview is not at all necessary to this story. + +Dic left Rita late in the afternoon and met Williams on the street down +town. They could not easily pass each other without exchanging words, so +they stopped and spoke stiffly about the weather, past, present, and +future. Dic tried to conceal all traces of resentment, and partially +succeeded. Williams, still smarting from his troubles and mistakes with +Rita, and hating Dic accordingly, concealed his feelings with poor +success. The hatred of these men for each other was plain in every word +and act, and in a few moments, Williams, unable longer to bear the +strain, said:-- + +"This sham between us is disgusting. Let us settle our differences as +gentlemen adjust such affairs." + +"Do you mean that we shall fight it out?" asked Dic. + +"Yes," returned Williams. "You are not afraid to fight, are you?" + +"No, and yes," answered Dic. "I have had but few fights--I fear I could +not go into a fight in cold blood and--and for many reasons I do not +wish to fight you." + +"I supposed you would decline. I knew you to be a coward," sneered +Williams, growing brave upon seeing Dic's disinclination. + +"No," responded Dic, calmly looking into Williams's face, "I have +nothing to fear from you. You could not stand against me even for one +minute." + +"But you misunderstand me," said Williams. "I do not wish to fight with +my fists. That is the method of ruffians and country bullies. I am not +surprised at your mistake." + +Dic laughed softly and replied: "I do not know why your words don't +anger me. Perhaps because I pity you. I can afford to be magnanimous and +submit to your ravings; therefore, I am neither angry nor afraid." + +"I propose to settle our difficulty as gentlemen adjust such affairs," +said Williams. "Of course, you know nothing about the methods of +gentlemen. I challenge you to meet me in a duel. Now do you +understand--understand?" + +Williams was nervous, and there was a murderous gleam in his eyes. Dic's +heart throbbed faster for a moment, but soon took again its regular +beat. He rapidly thought over the situation and said:-- + +"I don't want to kill you and don't want you to kill me." He paused for +a moment with a smile on his lips and continued: "Suppose we let the +girl decide this between us. But perhaps I am again showing my ignorance +of gentlemanly methods. Do gentlemen force their attentions upon +unwilling ladies?" + +"Oh, if you refuse," retorted Williams, ignoring his question, "I can +slap your face now in the public streets." + +"Don't do it, Williams," responded Dic, looking to the ground and trying +to remain calm. + +"Why?" Williams asked. + +"Because--I will fight you if you insist, without the occasion of a +street brawl. Another name might be brought into that." + +"Am I to understand that you accept my challenge?" asked Williams. + +"Yes, if you insist," replied Dic, calmly, as if he were accepting an +invitation to dinner. "I have always supposed that this sort of an +affair should be arranged between gentlemen by their friends; but of +course I don't know how gentlemen act under these circumstances. Perhaps +you don't consider me a gentleman, and you certainly must have some +doubts in your mind concerning yourself; therefore, it may be proper for +us to arrange this little matter with each other." + +"I suppose you would prefer seconds," returned Williams. "They might +prevent a meeting." + +After a few moments of silence Dic said, "If we fight, I fear another +person's name will be dragged into our quarrel." + +"You may, if you wish, find plenty of excuses," returned Roger. "If you +wish to accept my challenge, do so. If not, say so, and I will take my +own course." + +"Oh, I'll accept," returned Dic, cheerily. "As the challenged party, if +we were gentlemen, I believe I might choose the weapons." + +"Yes," responded Williams. + +"What do you suppose would be the result were I to choose rifles at two +hundred yards?" asked Dic, with an ugly smile on his face. + +"I should be delighted," responded the other. "I expected you to choose +hoes or pitchforks." + +"I think it fair to tell you," said Dic, "that I can hit a silver dollar +four times out of five shots at two hundred yards, and you will probably +do well to hit a barn door once out of ten at that distance. I will let +you see me shoot before I definitely choose weapons. Afterwards, if you +prefer some other, I will abide your choice." + +"I am satisfied with your choice," responded Williams, who prided +himself upon his rifle-shooting, in which accomplishment Dic had +underrated his antagonist. + +"We must adopt some plan to prevent people from connecting another +person with this affair," suggested Dic. "If you will come down to +Bays's farm for a day's hunting, I will meet you there, and the result +may be attributed by the survivor to a hunting accident." + +"The plan suits me," said Williams. "I'll meet you there to-morrow at +noon. I'll tell Tom I have an engagement to go squirrel-hunting with +you." + +Dic rode home, and of course carried the news of his forthcoming duel to +Billy Little. + +"There are worse institutions in this world than the duel," remarked +Billy, much to his listener's surprise. "It helps to thin out the +fools." + +"But, Billy Little, I must fight him," responded Dic. "He insists, and +will not accept my refusal. He says I am afraid to fight him." + +"If he should say you were a blackamoor, I suppose you would be black," +retorted Billy. "Is that the way of it?" + +"But I am glad he does not give me an opportunity to refuse," said Dic. + +"I supposed as much," answered Billy. "You will doubtless be delighted +if he happens to put a bullet through you, and will surely be happy for +life if you kill him." + +"It is his doing, Billy Little," said Dic, with an ugly gleam in his +eyes, "and I would not balk him. Billy Little, I would fight that man if +I knew I should hang for it the next day. I'll tell you--he grossly +insulted Rita Monday evening. He held her by force and kissed her lips +till she was hardly conscious." + +"Good God!" cried Billy, springing to his feet and trembling with +excitement. "Fight him, Dic! Kill him, Dic! Kill the brute! If you +don't, by the good God, I will." + +"You need not urge me, Billy Little. I'm quite willing enough. Still I +hope I shall not kill him." + +"You hope you will not kill him?" demanded Billy. "If you do not, I +will. Where do you meet?" + +"He will be at Bays's house to-morrow noon, and we will go up to my +cleared eighty, half a mile north. There we will step off a course of +two hundred yards and fire. Whatever happens we will say was the result +of a hunting accident." + +Billy determined to be in hiding near the field of battle, and was +secreted in the forest adjoining the cleared eighty an hour before noon +next day. Late in the morning Dic took his rifle and walked down to the +Bays's house. I shall not try to describe his sensations. + +Williams was waiting, and Dic found him carefully examining his gun. The +gun contained a bullet which, Dic thought, with small satisfaction, +might within a short time end his worldly troubles, and the troubles +seemed more endurable than ever before. Sleep had cooled his brain since +his conversation with Billy, and he could not work himself into a +murderous state of mind. He possessed Rita, and love made him +magnanimous. He did not want to fight, though fear was no part of his +reluctance. The manner of his antagonist soon left no doubt in Dic's +mind that the battle was sure to come off. Something in +Williams--perhaps it was his failure to meet his enemy's eyes--alarmed +Dic's suspicions, and for a moment he feared treachery at the hands of +his morose foe; but he dismissed the thought as unworthy, and opening +the gate started up the river path, taking the lead. He was ashamed to +show his distrust of Williams, though he could not entirely throw it +off, and the temptation to turn his head now and then to watch his +following enemy was irresistible. They had been walking but a few +minutes when Dic, prompted by distrust, suddenly turned his head and +looked into the barrel of a gun held firmly to the shoulder of our +gentleman from Boston. With the nimbleness of a cat, Dic sprang to one +side, and a bullet whistled past his face. One second later in turning +his head and the hunting accident would have occurred. + +After the shot Williams in great agitation said:-- + +"I saw a squirrel and have missed it." + +"You may walk ahead," answered Dic, with not a nerve ruffled. "You might +see another squirrel." + +Williams began to reload his gun, but Dic interrupted the proceeding. + +"Don't load now. We will soon reach the clearing." + +Williams continued reloading, and was driving the patch down upon the +powder. Dic cocked his rifle, and raising it halfway to his shoulder, +said:-- + +"Don't put the bullet in unless you wish me to see a squirrel. I'll not +miss. Throw me your bullet pouch." + +Williams, whose face looked like a mask of death, threw the bullet pouch +to Dic, and, in obedience to a gesture, walked forward on the path. +After taking a few steps he looked backward to observe the man he had +tried to murder. + +"You need not watch me," Dic said; "I'm not hunting squirrels." + +Soon they reached the open field. Dic had cleared every foot of the +ground, and loved it because he had won it single-handed in a battle +royal with nature; but nature was a royal foe that, when conquered, gave +royal spoils of victory. The rich bottom soil had year by year repaid +Dic many-fold for his labor. He loved the land, and if fate should prove +unkind to him, he would choose that spot of all others upon which to +fall. + +"Is this the place?" asked Williams. + +"Yes," answered Dic, tossing the bullet pouch. "Now you may load." + +When Williams had finished loading, Dic said: "I will drop my hat here. +We will walk from each other, you going west, I going east. The sun is +in the south. When we have each taken one hundred steps, we will call +'Ready,' turn, and fire when we choose." + +Accordingly, Dic dropped his hat, and the two men started, one toward +the east, one toward the west, while the sun was shining in the south. +Williams quickly ran his hundred steps. + +Dic had counted forty steps when he heard the cry "Dic" coming from the +forest ten yards to the south, and simultaneously the sharp crack of a +rifle behind him. At the same instant his left leg gave way under him +and he fell to the ground, supposing he had stepped into a muskrat hole. +After he had fallen he turned quickly toward Williams and saw that +gentleman hastily reloading his gun. Then he fully realized that his +antagonist had shot him, though he was unable to account for the voice +he had heard from the forest. That mystery, too, was quickly explained +when he heard Billy's dearly loved voice calling to Williams:-- + +"Drop that gun, or you die within a second." + +Turning to the left Dic saw his friend holding the rifle which had +fallen from his own hands when he went down, and the little fellow +looked the picture of determined ferocity. Williams dropped his gun. Dic +was sitting upright where he had fallen, and Billy, handing him the +weapon, said:-- + +"Kill him, Dic; kill him as you would a wolf. I'm afraid if I shoot I'll +miss him, and then he will reload and kill you." + +Williams was a hundred and forty yards away, but Dic could easily have +pierced his heart. He took the gun and lifted it to his shoulder. +Williams stood motionless as a tree upon a calm day. Dic lowered his +gun, but after a pause lifted it again and covered Williams's heart. He +held the gun to his shoulder for a second or two, then he threw it to +the ground, saying:-- + +"I can't kill him. Tell him to go, Billy Little. Tell him to go before I +kill him." + +[Illustration: "'KILL HIM, DIC; KILL HIM AS YOU WOULD A WOLF.'"] + +Williams took up his gun from the ground and started to leave, when Dic +said to Billy Little:-- + +"Tell him to leave his bullets." + +Williams dropped the bullet pouch without a command from Billy, and +again started to leave. Dic tried to rise to his feet, but failed. + +"I guess I'm wounded," he said hoarsely. "My God, Billy Little, look at +the blood I've lost! I--I feel weak--and--and dizzy. I believe I'm going +to faint," and he accordingly did so. Billy cut away the trousers from +Dic's wounded leg, disclosing a small round hole in the thigh. The blood +was issuing in ugly spurts, and at once Billy knew an artery had been +wounded. He tore the trousers leg into shreds and made a tourniquet +which he tied firmly above the wound and soon the haemorrhage was greatly +reduced. By the time the tourniquet was adjusted, Williams was well down +towards the river, and Billy called to him:-- + +"Go up the river to the first house and tell Mrs. Bright to send the man +down with the wagon. Perhaps if you assist us, the theory of the +accident will be more plausible." + +Williams did as directed. Dic was taken home. Within an hour Kennedy, +summoned by an unwilling messenger, was by the wounded man's side. Billy +Little was watching with Dic's mother, anxious to hear the doctor's +verdict. There was still another anxious watcher, our pink and white +little nymph, Sukey, though the pink had, for the time, given way to the +white. She made no effort to conceal her grief, and was willing that all +who looked might see her love for the man who was lying on the bed +unconscious. + +Williams remained with Bays's tenant till next day, and then returned to +Indianapolis, carrying the news of the "accident." + + + + +THE LOVE POWDER + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LOVE POWDER + + +Rita was with her mother when she received the terrible news. Of course +the accident was the theme of conversation, and Rita was in deep +trouble. Even Mrs. Bays was moved by the calamity that had befallen the +man whose face, since his early boyhood, had been familiar in her own +house. At first Rita made no effort to express her grief. + +"It is too bad, too bad," was the extent of Mrs. Bays's comment. Taking +courage from even so meagre an expression of sympathy, Rita begged that +she might go home--she still called the banks of Blue her home--and help +Mrs. Bright nurse Dic. Mrs. Bays gazing sternly at the malefactor, +uttered the one word "No," and Rita's small spark of hope was +extinguished almost before it had been kindled. + +Within a few days Billy Little went to see Rita, and relieved her of +anxiety concerning Dic. Before he left he told her that Sukey was +staying with Mrs. Bright and assisting in the nursing and the work. + +"I have been staying there at night," said Billy, "and Sukey hangs about +the bed at all hours." + +Billy did not wish to cause jealousy in Rita's breast, but hoped to +induce her to expostulate gently with Dic about the attentions he +permitted himself to receive from the dimpler. For a minute or two his +words caused a feeling of troubled jealousy in Rita's heart, but she +soon dismissed it as unworthy of her, and unjust to Dic and Sukey. To +that young lady she wrote: "I am not permitted to nurse him, and I thank +you for taking my place. I shall remember your goodness so long as I +live." + +The letter should have aroused in Sukey's breast high impulses and pure +motives; but it brought from her red lips, amid their nest of dimples, +the contemptuous expletive "Fool," and I am not sure that she was +entirely wrong. A due respect for the attractiveness and willingness of +her sisters is wise in a woman. Rita's lack of wisdom may be excused +because of the fact that her trust in Sukey was really a part of her +faith in Dic. + +Thus it came to pass that Dic did not go to New York, but was confined +to his home for several months with a fractured thigh bone. During that +period Rita was in constant prayer and Sukey in daily attendance. The +dimpler's never ceasing helpfulness to Dic and his mother won his +gratitude, while the dangerous twinkling of the dimples and the pretty +sheen of her skin became familiar to him as household gods. He had never +respected the girl, nor was his respect materially augmented by her +kindness, which at times overleaped itself; but his gratitude increased +his affection, and his sentiment changed from one of almost repugnance +to a kindly feeling of admiration for her seductive beauty, regard for +her kindly heart, and pleasure in her never failing good temper. + +Sukey still clung to her dominion over several hearts, receiving them +upon their allotted evenings; and although she had grown passionately +fond of Dic, she gave a moiety of kindness to her subjects, each in his +turn. She easily convinced each that he was the favored one, and that +the others were friends and were simply tolerated. She tried no such +coquetry with Dic, but gladly fed upon such crumbs as he might throw +her. If he unduly withheld the crumbs, she, unable to resist her +yearning for the unattainable, at times lost all maidenly reserve, and +by eloquent little signs and pleadings sought them at the hand of her +Dives. The heart of a coquette is to be won only by running away from +it, and Dic's victory over Sukey was achieved in retreat. + +During Dic's illness Tom's heart, quickened doubtless by jealousy, had +grown more and more to yearn for Sukey's manifold charms, physical and +temperamental. Billy Little, who did not like Sukey, said her charms +were "dimple-mental"; but Billy's heart was filled with many curious +prejudices, and Tom's judgment was much more to be relied upon in this +case. + +One morning when Sukey entered Dic's room she said: "Tom was to see me +last night. He said he would come up to see you to-day." + +"He meant that he will come up to see you," replied Dic, teasing her. +"One of these times I'll lose another friend to Indianapolis, and when I +go up there with my country ways you won't know me." + +"I'll never go to Indianapolis," Sukey responded, with a demure glance. +"Dear old Blue is good enough for me. The nearer I can live to it, the +better I shall be satisfied." Dic's lands were on the river banks, while +those of Sukey's father were a mile to the east. + +"If you lived too close to the river, you might fall in," returned Dic, +choosing to take Sukey's remark in jest. + +"I'm neither sugar nor salt," she retorted, "and I would not melt. I'm +sure I'm not sugar--" + +"But sugarish," interrupted Dic. + +"_You_ don't think I'm even sugarish," she returned poutingly. + +"Indeed I do," he replied; "but you must not tell Tom I said so." + +"Why not?" asked Sukey. "He's nothing to me--simply a friend." + +So the conversation would run, and Sukey, by judicious fishing, caught a +minnow now and then. + + * * * * * + +During the latter days of Dic's convalescence, Sukey paid a visit to her +friend Rita, and the girls from Blue attracted the beaux of the capital +city in great numbers. For the first time in Sukey's life she felt that +she had found a battle-field worthy of her prowess, and in truth she +really did great slaughter. Balls, hay rides, autumn picnics, and +nutting parties occurred in rapid succession. Tom and Williams were, of +course, as Tom expressed it, "Johnny on the spot," with our girls. + +After Rita's stormy interview with Williams she had, through fear, +continued to receive him in friendliness. At first the friendliness was +all assumed; but as the weeks passed, and he, by every possible means, +assured her that his rash act was sincerely repented, and under no +conditions was to be repeated, she gradually recovered her faith in him. +Her heart was so prone to forgive that it was an easy task to impose +upon it, and soon Williams, the Greek, was again encamped within the +walls of trusting Troy. He frequently devoted himself to other young +ladies, and our guileless little heroine joyfully reached the conclusion +that she no longer reigned queen of his cultured heart. For this reason +she became genuinely kind to him, and he accordingly gave her much of +his company during the month of Sukey's visit. + +One day a nutting party, including our four friends, set forth on their +way up White River. At the mouth of Fall Creek was a gypsy camp, and the +young folks stopped to have their fortunes told. The camp consisted of a +dozen covered wagons, each containing a bed, a stove, and cooking +utensils. To each wagon belonged a woman who was able and anxious to +foretell the future for the small sum of two bits. Our friends selected +the woman who was oldest and ugliest, those qualities having long been +looked upon as attributes of wisdom. Rita, going first, climbed over the +front wheel of the ugliest old woman's covered wagon, and entered the +temple of its high priestess. The front curtain was then drawn. The +interior of the wagon was darkened, and the candle in a small red +lantern was lighted. The hag took a cage from the top of the wagon where +it had been suspended, and when she opened the door a small screech owl +emerged and perched upon the shoulders of its mistress. There it +fluttered its wings and at short intervals gave forth a smothered +screech, allowing the noise to die away in its throat in a series of +disagreeable gurgles. When the owl was seated upon the hag's shoulder, +she took from a box a half-torpid snake, and entwined it about her neck. +With the help of these symbols of wisdom and cunning she at once began +to evoke her familiar spirits. To this end she made weird passes through +the air with her clawlike hands, crying in a whispered, high-pitched +wail the word, "Labbayk, labbayk," an Arabian word meaning "Here am I." + +Rita was soon trembling with fright, and begged the hag to allow her to +leave the wagon. + +"Sit where you are, girl," commanded the gypsy in sepulchral tones. "If +you attempt to pass, the snake will strike you and the owl will tear +you. The spirit of wisdom is in our presence. The Stone God has already +told me your fate. It is worth your while to hear it." + +Rita placed her trembling hand in the hag's claw. + +"No purer woman ever lived than you," began the sorceress; "but if you +marry the dark man who awaits you outside, you will become evil; you +will be untrue to him; you will soon leave him in company with another +man who is light of complexion, tall, and strong. Disgrace and ruin +await your family if you marry the light man. Even the Stone God cannot +foretell a woman's course when love draws her in opposite directions. +May the Stone God pity you." + +The hag's ominous words, fitting so marvellously the real situation, +frightened Rita and she cried, "Please let me out," but the gypsy held +her hand, saying:-- + +"Sit still, ye fool; sit and listen. For one shilling I will teach you a +spell which you may throw over the man you despise, and he will wither +and die; then you may marry the one of your choice, and all evil shall +be averted." + +"No, no!" screamed the girl, rising to her feet and forcing her way to +the front of the wagon. In passing the witch she stumbled, and in +falling, grasped the snake. The owl screeched, and Rita sprang screaming +from the wagon-seat to the ground. + +Sukey's turn came next, and although Rita begged her not to enter the +gypsy's den, our lady of the dimples climbed over the front wheel, eager +for forbidden fruit. + +The hideous witch, the owl, and the snake for a moment frightened Sukey; +but she, true daughter of Eve, hungered for apples, and was determined +to eat. + +After foretelling numerous journeys, disappointments, and pleasures +which would befall Sukey, the gypsy said:-- + +"You have many admirers, but there is one that remains indifferent to +your charms. You may win him, girl, if you wish." + +"How?" cried Sukey, with eagerness. + +"I can give you a love powder by which you may cause him to love you. I +cannot sell it; but a gift for a gift is no barter. If you will give me +gold, I will give you the powder." + +"I have no money with me," answered Sukey; "but I will come to-morrow +and bring you a gold piece." + +"It must be gold," said the hag, feeling sure of her prey. "A gift of +baser metal would kill the charm." + +"I will bring gold," answered Sukey. Laden with forbidden knowledge and +hope, she sprang from the front wheel into Tom's arms, and was very +happy. + +That night she asked Rita, "Have you a gold dollar?" + +"Yes," replied Rita, hesitatingly, "I have a gold dollar and three +shillings. I'm saving my money until Christmas. I want five dollars to +buy a--" She stopped speaking, not caring to tell that she had for +months been keeping her eyes on a trinket for Dic. "I am not +accumulating very rapidly," she continued laughing, "and am beginning to +fear I shall not be able to save that much by Christmas." + +"Will you loan it to me--the gold dollar?" asked Sukey. + +"Yes," returned Rita, somewhat reluctantly, having doubts of Sukey's +intention and ability to repay. But she handed over the gold dollar with +which the borrower hoped to steal the lender's lover. + +Next day Sukey asked Tom to drive her to the gypsy camp, but she did not +explain that her purpose was to buy a love powder with which she hoped +to win another man. Sukey, with all her amiable disposition,--Billy +Little used to say she was as good-natured as a hound pup,--was a girl +who could kiss your lips, gaze innocently into your eyes, and betray you +to Caesar, all unconscious of her own perfidy. Rita was her friend. Still +she unblushingly borrowed her money, hoping therewith to steal Dic. Tom +was her encouraged lover; still she wished him to help her in obtaining +the love powder by which she might acquire the love of another man. +Sukey was generous; but the world and the people thereof were made for +her use, and she, of course, would use them. She did not know she was +false--but why should I dwell upon poor Sukey's peccadilloes as if she +were the only sinner, or responsible for her sins? Who is responsible +for either sin or virtue? + +Rita deserved no praise for being true, pure, gentle, and unselfish. +Those qualities were given with her heart. The Chief Justice should not +be censured because she held peculiar theories of equity and looked upon +the words "as we forgive those who trespass against us" as mere +surplusage. She was born with her theories and opinions. Sukey should +not be blamed because of her dimples and her too complacent smiles. For +what purpose were dimples and smiles created save to give pleasure, and +incidentally to cause trouble? But I promise there shall be no more +philosophizing for many pages to come. + +Sukey, by the help of Tom and Rita, purchased her love powder, and, +being eager to administer it, informed Rita that evening that she +intended to return home next morning. Accordingly, she departed, leaving +Rita to receive alone the attentions of her persistent lover. + +Within a week or two after Sukey's return, Dic, having almost recovered, +went to see Rita. He was not able to go a-horseback, so he determined to +take the stage, and Billy Little went with him as body-guard. + +While they waited for the coach in Billy's back room, Williams became +the topic of conversation. + +"He will marry Rita in spite of you," said Billy, "if you don't take her +soon. What do you say? Shall we bring her home with us to-morrow? She +was eighteen last week." Billy was eager to carry off the girl, for he +knew the Williams danger, and stood in dread of it. Dic sprang from his +chair, delighted with the proposition. The thought of possessing Rita +to-morrow carried with it a flood of rapturous emotions. + +"How can we bring her?" he asked. "We can't kidnap her from her mother." + +"Perhaps Rita may be induced to kidnap herself," remarked Billy. "If we +furnish the plan, do you believe Rita will furnish the girl? Will she +come with us?" You see Billy, as well as Dic, was eloping with this +young lady. + +"Yes, she will come when I ask her," returned Dic, with confidence. + +After staring at the young man during a full minute, Billy said: "I am +afraid all my labor upon you has been wasted. If you are so great a fool +as not--do you mean to say you have never asked her to go with you--run +away--elope?" + +"I have never asked her to elope," returned Dic, with an expression of +doubt in his face. Billy's words had aroused him to a knowledge of the +fact that he was not at all the man for this situation. + +"You understand it is this way," continued Dic, in explanation of his +singular neglect. "Rita does not see her mother with our eyes. She +believes her to be a perfect woman. She believes every one is good; but +her mother has, for so many years, sounded the clarion of her own +virtues, that Rita takes the old woman at her own valuation, and holds +her to be a saint in virtue, and a feminine Solomon in wisdom. Rita +believes her mother the acme of intelligent, protecting kindness, and +looks upon her cruelty as the result of parental love, meant entirely +for the daughter's own good. I have not wanted to pain my future wife by +causing a break with her mother. Should Rita run off with me, there +would be no forgiveness for her in the breast of Justice." + +"The girl, doubtless, could live happily without it," answered Billy. + +"Not entirely happy," returned Dic. "She would grieve. You don't know +what a tender heart it is, Billy Little. There is not another like it in +all the world. Had it not been for that consideration, I would have been +selfish enough to bring her home with me when she offered to come, and +would--" + +"Mighty Moses!" cried Billy, springing to his feet. "She offered to go +with you?" + +"Yes," replied Dic; "she said when last I saw her, 'You should have +taken me long ago.'" + +"And--and you"--Billy paused for breath and danced excitedly about the +room--"and you did not--you--you, oh--Maxwelton's braes--and you--Ah, +well, there is nothing to be gained by talking to you upon that subject. +What _do_ you think of the administration? Jackson is a hickory +blockhead, eh? Congress a stupendous aggregation of asses. Yes, +everybody is an ass, of course; but there is one who is monumental. +Monumental, I say. Monu--ah, well--Maxwelton's braes are +bonny--um--um--um--um--damn!" And Billy sat down disgusted, turning his +face from Dic. + +After a long pause Dic spoke: "I believe you are right, Billy Little. I +should have brought her." + +"Believe--" cried the angry little friend. "Don't you know it? The _pons +asinorum_ is a mere hypothesis compared to the demonstration in this +case." + +"But she was not of age, and could not marry without her parents' +consent," said Dic. "Had I brought her home, we could have found no one +to perform the ceremony." + +"I would have done it quickly enough; I am a justice of the peace. I +could have done it as well as forty preachers. I should have been fined +for transgressing the law in marrying you without a license, but I would +have done it, and it would have been as legal as if it had taken place +in a cathedral. We could have paid the fine between us." + +"Well, what's to be done?" asked Dic, after a long, awkward pause. "It's +not too late." + +"Yes, it's too late," answered Billy. "I wash my hands of the whole +affair. When a man can get a girl like Rita, and throws away his chance, +he's beyond hope. I supposed you had bought her for twenty-six hundred +dollars--you will never see a penny of it again--and a bargain at the +price. She is worth twenty-six hundred million; but if you could not buy +her, you should have borrowed, stolen, kidnapped--anything to get her. +Now what do you think of yourself?" + +"Not much, Billy Little, not much," answered Dic, regretfully. "But you +should have said all this to me long ago. Advice after the fact is like +meat after a feast--distasteful." + +"Ah, you are growing quite epigrammatic," said Billy, snappishly; "but +there is some truth in your contention. We will begin again. When we see +Rita, we will formulate a plan and try to thwart Justice." + +"What plan have you in mind?" asked Dic, eager to discuss the subject. + +"I have none," Billy replied. "Rita will perhaps furnish both the plan +and the girl." + +Dic did not relish the suggestion that Rita would be willing to take so +active a part in the transaction, and said:-- + +"I fear you do not know Rita. She is not bold enough to do what you +hope. If she will come with us, it will be all I can expect. We must do +the planning." + +"You say she offered to come with you?" asked Billy. + +"Y-e-s," responded Dic, hesitatingly; "but she is the most timid of +girls, and we shall need to be very persuasive if--" + +Billy laughed and interrupted him: "All theory, Dic; all theory and +wrong. 'Deed, if I knew you were such a fool! The gentlest and most +guileless of women are the bravest and boldest under the stress of a +great motive. The woman who is capable of great love is sure also to +have the capacity for great courage. I know Rita better than you +suppose, and, mark my words, she will furnish both the plan and the +girl; and if you grow supercilious, egad! I'll take her myself." + +"I'll not grow supercilious. She is perfect, and anything she'll do will +be all right. I can't believe she is really to be mine. It seems more +like a castle in the air than a real fact." + +"It is not a fact yet," returned Billy, croakingly; "and if this trip +doesn't make it a fact, I venture to prophesy you will have an +untenanted aerial structure on your hands before long." + +"You don't believe anything of the sort, Billy Little," said Dic. "I +can't lose her. It couldn't happen. It couldn't." + +"We'll see. There's the stage horn. Let us hurry out and get an inside +seat. The sky looks overcast, and I shouldn't like to have this coat +rained upon. There's a fine piece of cloth, Dic. Feel it." Dic complied. +"Soft as silk, isn't it?" continued Billy. "They don't make such cloth +in these days of flimsy woolsey. Got it thirty years ago from the famous +Schwitzer on Cork Street. Tailor shop there for ages. Small shop--dingy +little hole, but that man Schwitzer was an artist. Made garments for all +the beaux. Brummel used to draw his own patterns in that shop--in that +very shop, Dic. Think of wearing a coat made by Brummel's tailor. +Remarkable man that, Brummel--George Bryan Brummel. Good head, full of +good brains. Son of a confectioner; friend of a prince. Upon one +occasion the Prince of Wales wept because Brummel made sport of his +coat. Yes, egad! blubbered. I used to know him well. Knew the 'First +Gentleman' of Europe, too, the Prince of Wales. Won a thousand and +eleven pounds from Brummel one night at whist. He paid the eleven and +still owes the thousand. Had a letter from him less than a year ago, +saying he hoped to pay me some day; but bless your soul, Dic, he'll +never be able to pay a farthing. He's in France now, because he owes +nearly every one in England. Fine gentleman, though, fine gentleman, +every inch of him. Well, this coat was made by his tailor. You don't +blame me for taking good care of it, do you?" + +"Indeed not," answered Dic, amused, though in sympathy with Beau +Brummel's friend. + +"I have two vests in my trunk by the same artist," continued Billy. "I +don't wear them now. They won't button over my front. I'll show them to +you some day." + +At this point in the conversation our friends stepped into the stage +coach. Others being present, Billy was silent as an owl at noonday. With +one or two sympathetic listeners Billy was a magpie; with many, he was a +stork--he loved companionship, but hated company. + +Arriving at Indianapolis, our worthy kidnappers sought the house of +unsuspecting Justice, and were received with a frigid dignity becoming +that stern goddess. Dic, wishing to surprise Rita, had not informed her +of his intended visit. After waiting a few minutes he asked, "Where is +Rita?" + +"She is sick," responded Mrs. Bays. "She has not been out of her bed for +three days. We have had two doctors with her. She took seven different +kinds of medicine all yesterday, and to-day she has been very bad." + +"No wonder," remarked Billy; "it's a miracle she isn't dead. Seven +different kinds! It's enough to have killed a horse. Fortunately she is +young and very strong." + +"Well, I'm sure she would have died without them," answered Mrs. Bays. + +"You believe six different kinds would not have saved her, eh?" asked +Billy. + +"Something saved her. It must have been the medicine," replied Mrs. +Bays, partly unconscious of Billy's irony. She was one of the many +millions who always accept the current humbug in whatever form he comes. +Let us not, however, speak lightly of the humble humbug. Have you ever +considered how empty this world would be without his cheering presence? +You notice I give the noun "humbug" the masculine gender. The feminine +members of our race have faults, but great, monumental, world-pervading +humbugs are masculine, one and all, from the old-time witch doctor and +Druid priest down to the--but Mrs. Bays was speaking:-- + +"The doctors worked with her for four hours last night, and when they +left she was almost dead." + +"Almost?" interrupted Billy. "Fortunate girl!" + +"I hope I may see her," asked Dic, timidly. + +"No, you can't," replied Mrs. Bays with firmness. "She's in bed, and I +_hardly_ think it would be the proper thing." + +"Dic!" called a weak little voice from the box stairway leading from the +room above. "Dic!" And that young man sprang to the stairway door with +evident intent to mount. Mrs. Bays hurried after him, crying:-- + +"You shall not go up there. She's in bed, I tell you. You can't see +her." + +Billy rose to his feet and stood behind her. When Dic stopped, at the +command of Mrs. Bays, Billy made an impatient gesture and pointed to the +room above, emphasizing the movement with a look that plainly said, "Go +on, you fool," and Dic went. + +Mrs. Bays turned quickly upon Billy, but his pale countenance was as +expressionless as usual, and he was examining his finger tips with such +care one might have supposed them to be rare natural curiosities. + +"Ah, Dic," cried the same little voice from the bed, when that young man +entered the room, and two white arms, from which the sleeves had fallen +back, were held out to him as the pearly gates might open to a wandering +soul. + +Dic knelt by the bedside, and the white arms entwined themselves about +his neck. He spoke to her rapturously, and placed his cool cheek +against her feverish face. Then the room grew dark to the girl, her eyes +closed, and she fainted. + +Dic thought she was dead, and in an agony of alarm placed his ear to her +heart, hoping to hear its beating. No human motive could have been purer +than Dic's. Of that fact I know you are sure, else I have written of him +in vain; but when Mrs. Bays entered the room and saw him, she was +pleased to cry out:-- + +"Help! help! he has insulted my daughter." + +Billy mounted the stairway in three jumps, a feat he had not performed +in twenty years, and when he entered the room Mrs. Bays pointed +majestically to the man kneeling by Rita's bed. + +"Take that man from my house, Mr. Little," cried Mrs. Bays in a +sepulchral, judicial tone of voice. "He broke into her room and insulted +my sick daughter when she was unconscious." + +Dic remained upon his knees by the bedside, and did not fully grasp the +meaning of his accuser's words. Billy stepped to Rita's side, and taking +her unresisting hand hastily sought her pulse. Then he spoke gruffly to +Mrs. Bays, who had wrought herself into a spasm of injured virtue. + +"She has fainted," cried Billy. "Fetch cold water quickly, and a drop of +whiskey." + +Mrs. Bays hastened downstairs, and Dic followed her. + +"Get the whiskey," he cried. "I'll fetch the water," and a few seconds +thereafter Billy was dashing cold water in Rita's face. The great brown +eyes opened, and the half-conscious girl, thinking that Dic was still +leaning over her, lifted her arms and gave poor old Billy a moment in +paradise, by entwining them about his neck. He enjoyed the delicious +sensation for a brief instant, and said:-- + +"I'm Billy Little, Rita, not Dic." Then the eyes opened wider as +consciousness returned, and she said:-- + +"I thought Dic was here." + +"Yes--yes, Rita," said Dic, "I am here. I was by your side a moment +since. I came so suddenly upon you that you fainted; then Billy Little +took my place." + +"And you thought I was Dic," said Billy, laughingly. + +"I'm glad I did," answered the girl with a rare smile, again placing her +arms about his neck and drawing his face down to hers; "for I love you +also very, very dearly." Billy's heart sprang backward thirty years, and +thumped away astonishingly. At that moment Mrs. Bays returned with the +whiskey, and Billy prepared a mild toddy. + +"The doctor said she must not have whiskey while the fever lasts," +interposed Mrs. Bays. + +"We'll try it once," replied Billy, "and if it kills her, we'll not try +it again. Here, Rita, take a spoonful of this." + +Dic lifted her head, and Billy administered the deadly potion, while the +humbug lover stood by, confidently expecting dire results, but too much +subdued by the situation to interpose an objection. + +Soon Rita asked that two pillows be placed under her head, and, sitting +almost upright in bed, declared she felt better than for several days. + +Mrs. Bays knew that Dic's motive had been pure and spotless, but she had +no intention of relinquishing the advantage of her false position. She +had for months been seeking an excuse to turn Dic from her house, and +now that it had come, she would not lose it. Going to Rita's side, she +again took up her theme:-- + +"No wonder my poor sick daughter fainted when she was insulted. I can't +tell you, Mr. Little, what I saw when I entered this room." + +"Oh, mother," cried Rita, "you were wrong. You do not understand. When I +saw Dic, I held up my arms to him, and he came to me because I wanted +him." + +"_You_ don't know, my daughter, you don't know," interrupted Mrs. Bays. +"I would not have you know. But I will protect my daughter, my own flesh +and blood, against insult at the cost of my life, if need be. I have +devoted my life to her; I have toiled and suffered for her since I gave +her birth, and no man shall enter my house and insult her while I have +strength to protect her." She gathered force while she spoke, and talked +herself into believing what she knew was false, as you and I may easily +do in very important matters if we try. + +"My dear woman," said Billy, in surprise bordering on consternation, +"you don't mean you wish us to believe that you believe that Dic +insulted Rita?" + +"Yes, I saw him insult her. I saw it with my own eyes." + +"In what manner?" demanded Dic. + +He was beginning to grasp the meaning of her accusation, and was +breathing heavily from suppressed excitement. Before she could reply he +fully understood, and a wave of just anger swept over him. + +"Old woman, you know you lie!" he cried. "I revere the tips of Rita's +fingers, and no unholy thought of her has ever entered my mind. _I_ +insult her! You boast of your mother's love. You have no love for her of +any sort. You have given her nothing but hard, cold cruelty all her life +under the pretence--perhaps belief--that you were kind; but if your love +were the essence of mother love, it would be as nothing compared to my +man's love for the girl who will one day be my wife and bear my +children." + +The frightened old woman shrank from Dic and silently took a chair by +the window. Then Dic turned to the bed, saying:-- + +"Forgive me, Rita, forgive me. I was almost beside myself for a moment. +Tell me that you know I would not harm you." + +"Of course you would do me no harm," she replied sobbing. "You could +not. You would be harming yourself. But how could you speak so violently +to my mother? You were terrible, and I was frightened. How could you? +How could you?" + +"I was wild with anger--but I will explain to you some day when you are +my wife. I will not remain in this house. I must not remain, but I will +come to you when you are well. You will write me, and I will come. You +want me, don't you, Rita?" + +"As I want nothing else in all the world," she whispered, taking his +face between her hands. + +"And you still love me?" he asked. + +"Ah," was her only reply; but the monosyllable was eloquent. + +Dic at once left the house, but Billy Little remained. + +"I never in all my life!" exclaimed Mrs. Bays, rising from her chair. +Billy did not comprehend the exact meaning of her mystic words, but in a +general way supposed they referred to her recent experiences as unusual. + +"You were mistaken, Mrs. Bays," he said. "Dic could not offer insult to +your daughter. You were mistaken." + +"I guess I was," she replied; "I guess I was, but I never, I never in +all my life!" + +The old woman was terribly shaken up; but when Billy took his departure, +her faculties returned with more than pristine vigor, and poor, sick +Rita, as usual, fell a victim to her restored powers of invective. + +Mrs. Bays shed no tears. The salt in her nature was not held in +solution, but was a rock formation from which tears could not easily be +distilled. + +"I have nursed you through sickness," she said, turning upon Rita with +an indignant, injured air. "I have toiled for you, suffered for you, +prayed for you. I have done my duty by you if mother ever did duty by +child, and now I am insulted for your sake; but I bear it all with a +contrite spirit because you are my daughter, though God's just hand is +heavy upon me. There is one burden I will bear no longer. You must give +up that man--that brute, who just insulted me." + +"He did not insult you, mother." + +"He did, and nothing but God's protecting grace saved me from bodily +harm in my own house while protecting my daughter's honor." + +"But, mother," cried Rita, weeping, "you are wrong. If there was any +wrong, it was I who did it." + +"You don't know! Oh, that I should live to see what I did see, and +endure what I have endured this day for the sake of an ungrateful +daughter--oh, sharper than a serpent's tooth, as the good book says--to +be insulted--I never! I never!" + +Rita, of course, had been weeping during her mother's harangue; but when +the old woman took up her meaningless refrain, "I never! I never!" the +girl's sobs became almost convulsive. Mrs. Bays saw her advantage and +determined not to lose it. + +"Promise me," demanded this tender mother, rudely shaking the girl, +"promise me you will never speak to him again." + +Rita did not answer--she could not, and the demand was repeated. Still +Rita answered not. + +"If you don't promise me, I'll leave your bedside. I'll never speak your +name again." + +"Oh, mother," sobbed the girl, "I beg you not to ask that promise of me. +I can't give it. I can't. I can't." + +"Give me the promise this instant, or I'll disown you. Do you promise?" + +The old woman bent fiercely over her daughter and waited stonily for an +answer. Rita shrank from her, but could not resist the domineering old +creature, so she whispered:-- + +"Yes, mother, I promise," and the world seemed to be slipping away from +her forever. + + + + +THE DIMPLER + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE DIMPLER + + +Billy Little soon found Dic and greeted him with, "Well, we haven't got +her yet." + +"No, but when she recovers, we will have her. What an idiot I was to +allow that old woman to make me angry!" + +"You are right for once, Dic," was Billy's consoling reply. "She has +been waiting for an excuse to turn you from her doors, and you furnished +it. I suppose you can never enter the house again." + +"I don't want to enter it, unless by force to take Rita. Why didn't I +take her long ago? It serves no purpose to call myself a fool, but--" + +"Perhaps it's a satisfaction," interrupted Billy, "a satisfaction to +discover yourself at last. Self-knowledge is the summit of all wisdom." + +"Ah, Billy Little, don't torture me; I am suffering enough as it is." +Billy did not answer, but took Dic's hand and held it in his warm clasp +for a little time as they walked in silence along the street. + +The two disconsolate lovers who had come a-kidnapping remained over +night in Indianapolis, and after breakfast Billy suggested that they +discuss the situation in detail. + +"Have you thought of any plan whereby you may communicate with Rita?" he +asked. + +"No," answered Dic. + +"Do you know any of her girl friends?" + +"The very thing!" exclaimed Dic, joyous as possible under the +circumstances. "I'll see Miss Tousy, and she will help us, I'm sure." + +"Is she sentimentally inclined?" queried Billy. + +"I don't know." + +"Is her face round or oval?" + +"Oval," replied Dic, in some perplexity. + +"Long oval?" + +"Rather." + +"Good!" exclaimed Billy. "Does she talk much or little?" + +"Little, save at times." + +"And her voice?" + +"Low and soft." + +"Better and better," said Billy. "What does she read?" + +"She loves Shakespeare and Shelley." + +"Go to her at once," cried Billy, joyfully. "I'll stake my life she'll +help. Show me a long oval face, a soft voice speaking little, and a +lover of poetry, and I'll show you the right sort of heart. But we must +begin at once. Buy a new stock, Dic, and have your shoes polished. Get a +good pair of gloves, and, if you think you can handle it properly, a +stick. Fine feathers go farther in making fine birds than wise men +suppose. Too much wisdom often blinds a man to small truths that are +patent to a fool. I wish you were small enough to wear my coat." + +Dic congratulated himself upon his bulk, but he took Billy's advice +regarding the gloves and stock. Billy was a relic of the days of the +grand beaux, when garments, if they did not make the man, at least could +mar the gentleman, and held his faith in the omnipotence of dress, as a +heritage from his youth--that youth which was almost of another world. +Dic was one of the few men whose splendor of person did not require the +adornments of dress. All women looked upon his redolence of life and +strength with pleasure, and soon learned to respect his +straightforward, fearless honesty. Miss Tousy had noted Dic's qualities +on previous occasions, and valued him accordingly. She was also +interested in Rita, who was her protegee; and she was graciousness +itself to Dic that day as she asked him, + +"What good fortune brings you?" + +"It is bad fortune brings me, I am sorry to say," returned Dic. +"Yesterday was the unluckiest day of my life, and I have come to you for +help." + +Miss Tousy's kind heart responded, as Billy Little had predicted. + +"Then your ill luck is my good fortune. In what way can I help you? I +give you _carte blanche_; ask what you will." + +"I will not hold you to your offer until I tell you what I want. Then +you may refuse if you feel that--" + +"I'll not refuse," answered the kindly young lady. "Go on." + +"You know that Ri--, Miss Bays, is--has been for a long time--that is, +has promised to be--" + +"I know. But what has happened?" + +"It's a long story. I'll not tell you all. I--" + +"Yes, tell me all--that is, if you wish. I'm eager to hear all, even to +the minutest details. Don't mind if the story is long." And she settled +herself comfortably among the cushions to hear his sentimental +narrative. Dic very willingly told the whole story of yesterday's woes, +and Miss Tousy gave him her sympathy, as only a woman can give. It was +not spoken freely in words, merely in gestures and little ejaculatory +"ah's," "oh's," and "too bad's"; but it was soothing to Dic, and sweet +Miss Tousy gained a lifelong friend. + +"You see," said Dic, after he had finished his story, "I cannot +communicate with Rita. She is ill, and I shall be unable to hear from +her." + +"I'll keep you informed; indeed I will, gladly. Oh, that hard old woman! +There is no hallucination so dangerous to surrounding happiness as that +of the Pharisee. Mrs. Bays has in some manner convinced herself that her +hardness is goodness, and she actually imposes the conviction upon +others. Her wishes have come to bear the approval of her conscience. +Every day of my life I grow more thankful that I have a sweet, gentle +mother. But Mrs. Bays intends right, and that, perhaps, is a saving +grace." + +"I prefer a person who intends wrong and does right to one who intends +right and does wrong," replied Dic. "I know nothing so worthless and +contemptible as mistaken good intentions. But we should not criticise +Rita's mother." + +"No," returned Miss Tousy; "and I'll go to see Rita every day--twice a +day--and will write to you fully by every mail." + +"I intend to remain at the inn till she recovers. I couldn't wait for +the mail." + +"Very well, that is much better. I'll send you word to the inn after +each visit, or, if you wish, you may come to me evenings, and I'll tell +you all about her. Shall I see you to-night, and shall I carry any +message?" + +"Tell her I will remain till she is better, and--and then I--I +will--that will be all for the present." + + * * * * * + +Billy Little was for going home at noon, but Dic begged him to remain. +The day was very long for Dic, notwithstanding Billy's companionship, +and twice during the afternoon he induced his friend to exhibit the +Brummel coat at the street-crossing a short distance south of the house +wherein the girl of girls lay ill and grieving. After much persuasion, +Billy consented to accompany Dic on his visit that evening to Miss +Tousy. The Schwitzer coat was carefully brushed, the pale face was +closely shaved and delicately powdered, and the few remaining hairs were +made to do the duty of many in covering Billy's blushing baldness. + +"I wish I had one of my waistcoats here," said our little coxcomb. "I +would button it if I had to go into stays--egad! I would. I will show +you those waistcoats some day,--India silk--corn color, with a touch of +gold braid at the pockets, ivory buttons the size of a sovereign, with +gold centres, made by the artist who made the coat. The coat is all +right. Wouldn't be ashamed to wear it to a presentation. I will button +it over this waistcoat and it will not be noticed. How do you like this +stock--all right?" + +"I think it is." + +"I have a better one at home. Got it down by the bank. Smith, Dye and +Company, Limited, Haberdashers. I can recommend the place if--if you +ever go to London. Brummel's haberdasher--Brummel knew the best places. +Depend upon him for that. Where he dealt, there you would hear the tramp +of many feet. He made Schwitzer's fortune. Wonderful man, Brummel. +Wonderful man, and I like him if he does owe me a thousand pounds thirty +years past due. Egad! it has been so long since I carried a stick I have +almost lost the knack of the thing. A stick is a useful thing to a +gentleman. Gives him grace, furnishes occupation for his hands. Gloves +in one hand, stick in the other--no man need get his hands mixed. Got +this stick down on Washington Street an hour ago. How do I seem to +handle it?" He walked across the room, holding the stick in the most +approved fashion--of thirty years before. + +"It's fine, Billy Little, it's fine," answered Dic, sorry to see an +apparent weakness in his little friend, though loving him better for +the sake of it. The past had doubled back on Billy for a day, and he +felt a touch of his youth--of that olden time when the first dandy of +England was heir-apparent to the crown and blubbered over an ill-fitting +coat. If you will look at the people of those times through the lens of +that fact, you will see something interesting and amusing. + +After many glances toward the mirror, Billy announced that he was ready, +and marched upon Miss Tousy, exulting in the fact that there was not in +all the state another coat like the one he wore. Billy's vanity, to do +him justice, was not at all upon his own account. He wished to appear +well for Dic's sake, and ransacked his past life for points in etiquette +and manner once familiar, but now almost forgotten by him and by the +world. His quaint old resurrections were comical and apt to create +mirth, but beneath their oddities I believe a discerning person would +easily have recognized the gentleman. + +I shall not describe to you Billy's Regency bow when Dic presented him +to Miss Tousy; nor shall I bring into his conversation all the "My dear +madams," "Dear ladys," and "Beg pardons," scattered broadcast in his +effort to do credit to his protege. But Miss Tousy liked Billy, while +she enjoyed his old-fashioned affectations; and in truth the man was in +all respects worthy of the coat. + +"Rita is very ill," Miss Tousy said. "Mrs. Bays says your conduct almost +killed her daughter. Two doctors are with her now." + +"Terrible, my dear madam, terrible," interrupted Billy, and Miss Tousy +continued:-- + +"I whispered to Rita that you would remain, and she murmured, 'I'm so +glad. Tell him mother forced me to promise that I would never see him +again, and that promise is killing me. I can't forget it even for a +moment. Ask him to forgive me, and ask him if it will be wrong for me +to break the promise when I get well. I cannot decide whether it would +be wrong for me to keep it or to break it. Both ways seem wicked to +me!'" + +"Wicked!" cried Billy springing from his chair excitedly, and walking +across the room, gloves in one hand, stick in the other, and Brummel +coat buttoned tightly across the questionable waistcoat, "my dear lady, +tell her it will be wicked--damnable--beg pardon, beg pardon; but I must +repeat, dear lady, it will be wicked and wrong--a damning wrong, if she +keeps the promise obtained by force--by force, lady, by duress. Tell her +I absolve her from the promise. I will go to Rome and get the Pope's +absolution. No! that will be worse than none for Rita; she is a Baptist. +Well, well, I'll hunt out the head Baptist,--the high chief of all +Baptists, if there is one,--and will get his absolution. But, my dear +Miss Tousy, she has faith in me. I have never led her wrong in my life, +and she knows it. Tell her I say the promise is not binding, before +either God or man, and you will help her." + +"And tell her she will not be able to keep the promise," interrupted +Dic. "I'll make it impossible. When she recovers, I'll kidnap her, if +need be." + +"I'll go at once and tell her," returned Miss Tousy. "She is in need of +those messages." + +Dic and Billy walked down to Bays's with Miss Tousy, and waited on the +corner till she emerged from the house, when they immediately joined +her. + +"I gave her the messages," said Miss Tousy, "and she became quieter at +once. 'Tell him I'll get well now,' she whispered. Then she smiled +faintly, and said, 'Wouldn't it be romantic to be kidnapped?' After that +she was silent; and within five minutes she slept, for the first time +since yesterday." + +Rita's illness proved to be typhoid fever, a frightful disease in those +days of bleeding and calomel. + +Billy returned home after a few days, but Dic remained to receive his +diurnal report from Miss Tousy. + +One evening during the fourth week of Rita's illness Dic received the +joyful tidings that the fever had subsided, and that she would recover. +He spent a great part of the night watching her windows from across the +street, as he had spent many a night before. + +On returning to the inn he found a letter from Sukey Yates. He had been +thinking that the fates had put aside their grudge against him, and that +his luck had turned. When he read the letter announcing that the poor +little dimpler was in dire tribulation, and asking him to return to her +at once and save her from disgrace, he still felt that the fates had +changed--but for the worse. He was sure Sukey might, with equal +propriety, make her appeal to several other young men--especially to Tom +Bays; but he was not strong enough in his conviction to relieve himself +of blame, or entirely to throw off a sense of responsibility. In truth, +he had suffered for weeks with an excruciating remorse; and the sin into +which he had been tempted had been resting like lead upon his +conscience. He remembered Billy's warning against Sukey's too seductive +charms; and although he had honestly tried to follow the advice, and had +clearly seen the danger, he had permitted himself to be lured into a +trap by a full set of dimples and a pair of moist, red lips. He was not +so craven as to say, even to himself, that Sukey was to blame; but deep +in his consciousness he knew that he had tried not to sin; and that +Sukey, with her allurements, half childish, half-womanly, and +all-enticing, had tempted him, and he had eaten. The news in her letter +entirely upset him. For a time he could not think coherently. He had +never loved Sukey, even for a moment. He could not help admiring her +physical beauty. She was a perfect specimen of her type, and her too +affectionate heart and joyous, never-to-be-ruffled good humor made her +a delightful companion, well fitted to arouse tenderness. Add virtue and +sound principle to Sukey's other attractions, and she would have made a +wife good enough for a king--too good, far too good. For the lack of +those qualities she was not to blame, since they spring from heredity or +environment. Sukey's parents were good, honest folk, but wholly unfitted +to bring up a daughter. Sukey at fourteen was quite mature, and gave +evidence of beauty so marked as to attract men twice her age, who "kept +company" with her, as the phrase went, sat with her till late in the +night, took her out to social gatherings, and--God help the girl, she +was not to blame. She did only as others did, as her parents permitted; +and her tender little heart, so prone to fondness, proved to be a curse +rather than the blessing it would have been if properly directed and +protected. Mentally, physically, and temperamentally she was very close +to nature, and nature, in the human species, needs curbing. + +The question of who should bear the blame did not enter into Dic's +perturbed cogitations. He took it all upon his own broad shoulders, and +did not seek to hide his sin under the cloak of that poor extenuation, +"she did tempt me." If Rita's love should turn to hatred (he thought it +would), he would marry Sukey and bear his burden through life; but if +Rita's love could withstand this shock, Sukey's troubles would go +unrighted by him. Those were the only conclusions he could reach. His +keen remorse was the result of his sin; and while he pitied Sukey, he +did not trust her. + +Next morning Dic saw Miss Tousy and took the stage for home. His first +visit was to Billy Little, whom he found distributing letters back of +the post-office boxes. + +"How is Rita?" asked Billy. + +"She's much better," returned Dic. "Miss Tousy tells me the fever has +left her, and the doctors say she will soon recover. I wanted to see her +before I left, but of course that could not be; and--and the truth is I +could not have looked her in the face." + +"Why?" Billy was busy throwing letters. + +"Because--because, Billy Little, I am at last convinced that I represent +the most perfect combination of knave and fool that ever threw heaven +away and walked open-eyed into hell." + +"Oh, I don't know," replied the postmaster, continuing to toss letters +into their respective boxes. "I ... don't know. The world has seen some +rare (Mrs. Sarah Cummins) combinations of that sort." After a long pause +he continued: "I ... I don't believe (Peter Davidson) I don't +believe ... there is much knave in you. Fool, perhaps (Atkinson, David. He +doesn't live here), in plenty--." Another pause, while three or four +letters were distributed. "Suppose you say that the formula--the +chemical formula--of your composition would stand (Peter Smith) F_{9} +K_{2}. Of course, at times, you are all M, which stands for man, but +(Jane Anderson, Jane Anderson. Jo John's wife, I suppose)--" + +"You will not jest, Billy Little, when you have heard all." + +"I am not ... jesting now. Go back ... into my apartments. I'll lock the +door (Samuel Richardson. Great writer) and come back to you (Leander +Cross. Couldn't read a signboard. What use writing letters to him?) when +I have handed (Mrs. Margarita Bays. They don't know she has moved to +Indianapolis, damn her)--when I have handed out the mail." + +Dic went back to the bedroom, and Billy opened the delivery window. The +little crowd scrambled for their letters as if they feared a delay of a +moment or two would fade the ink, and when the mail had been distributed +the calm postmaster went back to hear Dic's troubles. At no time in +that young man's life had his troubles been so heavy. He feared Billy +Little's scorn and biting sarcasm, though he well knew that in the end +he would receive sympathy and good advice. The relation between Dic and +Billy was not only that of intimate friendship; it was almost like that +between father and son. Billy felt that it was not only his privilege, +but his duty, to be severe with the young man when necessity demanded. +When Dic was a boy he lost his father, and Billy Little had stood as +substitute for, lo, these many years. + +When Billy entered the room, Dic was lost amid the flood of innumerable +emotions, chief among which were the fear that he had lost Rita and the +dread of her contempt. + +Billy went to the fireplace, poked the fire, lighted his pipe, and +leaned against the mantel-shelf. + +"Well, what's the trouble now?" asked Brummel's friend. + +"Read this," answered Dic, handing him Sukey's letter. + +Billy went to the window, rested his elbows upon the piano, put on his +"other glasses," and read aloud:-- + + "'DEAR DIC: I'm in so much trouble.'" ("Maxwelton's braes," + exclaimed Billy. The phrase at such a time was almost an oath.) + "'Please come to me at once.'" (Billy turned his face toward Dic + and gazed at him for thirty long seconds.) "'Come at once. Oh, + please come to me, Dic. I will kill myself if you don't. I cannot + sleep nor eat. I am in such agony I wish I were dead; but I trust + you, and I am sure you will save me. I know you will. If you could + know how wretched and unhappy I am, if you could see me tossing all + night in bed, and crying and praying, you certainly would pity me. + Oh, God, I will go crazy. I know I will. Come to me, Dic, and save + me. I have never said that I loved you--you have never asked + me--but you know it more surely than words can tell.' + + "'SUKEY.'" + + +When Billy had finished reading the letter he spoke two words, as if to +himself,--"Poor Rita." His first thought was of her. Her pain was his +pain; her joy was his joy; her agony was his torture. Then he seated +himself on the stool and gazed across the piano out the window. After a +little time his fingers began to wander over the keys. Soon the +wandering fingers began to strike chords, and the random chords grew +into soft, weird improvisations; then came a few chords from the +beloved, melodious "Messiah"; but as usual "Annie Laurie" soon claimed +her own, and Billy was lost, for the time, to Dic and to the world. +Meanwhile Dic sat by the fireplace awaiting his friend's pleasure, and +to say that he suffered, but poorly tells his condition. + +"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked Billy, suddenly turning +on the stool. Dic did not answer, and Billy continued: "Damned pretty +mess you've made. Proud of yourself, I suppose?" + +"No." + +"Lady-killer, eh?" + +"No." + +"Oh, perhaps it wasn't your fault, Adam? You are not to blame? She +tempted you?" + +"I only am to blame." + +"'Deed if I believe you have brains enough to know who is to blame." + +"Yes, I have that much, but no more. Oh, Billy Little, don't--don't." +Billy turned upon the piano-stool, and again began to play. + +Dic had known that Billy would be angry, but he was not prepared for +this avalanche of wrath. Billy had grown desperately fond of Rita. No +one could know better than he the utter folly and hopelessness of his +passion; but the realization of folly and a sense of hopelessness do not +shut folly out of the heart. If they did, there would be less suffering +in the world. Billy's love was a strange combination of that which might +be felt by a lover and a father. He had not hoped or desired ever to +possess the girl, and his love for Dic had made it not only easy, but +joyous to surrender her to him. Especially was he happy over the union +because it would insure her happiness. His love was so unselfish that he +was willing to give up not only the girl, but himself, his blood, his +life, for her sweet sake. With all his love for Dic, that young man was +chiefly important as a means to Rita's happiness, and now he had become +worse than useless because he was a source of wretchedness to her. You +may understand, then, the reason for Billy's extreme anger against this +young man, who since childhood had been his friend, almost as dear as if +he were his son. + +After rambling over the keys for two or three minutes, he turned +savagely upon Dic, saying:-- + +"I wish you would tell me why you come to me for advice. You don't take +it." + +"Yes, I do, Billy Little. I value your advice above every one else's." + +"Stuff and nonsense. I warned you against that girl--the dimpler: much +you heeded me. Do you think I'm a free advice factory? Get out of here, +get out of here, I say, and let me never see your face--" + +"Oh, Billy Little, don't, don't," cried Dic. "You can't forsake me after +all these years you have helped me. You can't do it, Billy Little!" + +"Get out of here, I say, and don't come back--" ("Ah, Billy Little, I +beg--") "till to-morrow morning. Come to-morrow, and I will try to tell +you what to do." Dic rushed upon the terrible little fellow, clasped +his small form with a pair of great strong arms, and ran from the room. +Billy sat for a moment gazing at the door through which Dic had passed; +then he arranged his stock, and turned to his piano for consolation and +inspiration. + +Billy knew that he knew Dic, and believed he knew Sukey. He knew, among +other facts concerning Dic, that he was not a libertine; that he was +pure in mind and purpose; that he loved and revered Rita Bays; and that +he did not care a pin for Sukey's manifold charms of flesh and blood. He +believed that Sukey was infatuated with Dic, and that her fondness grew +partly out of the fact that he did not fall before her smiles. He also +believed that her regard for Dic did not preclude, in her comprehensive +little heart, great tenderness for other men. Sukey had, upon one +occasion, been engaged to marry three separate and distinct swains of +the neighborhood, and a triangular fight among the three suitors had +aroused in the breast of her girl friends a feeling of envy that was +delicious to the dimpling little _casus belli_. After Dic's departure, +Billy sat throughout most of the night gazing into the fire, smoking his +pipe, and turning the situation over in his mind. When Dic arrived next +morning he was seated on the counter ready with his advice. The young +man took a seat beside him. + +"Now tell me all about it," said Billy. "I think I know, but tell me the +exact truth. Don't spare the dimpler, and don't spare yourself." + +Thereupon Dic unfolded his story with a naked truthfulness that made him +blush. + +"I thought as much," remarked Billy, when the story was finished. "Miss +Potiphar from Egypt has brought you and herself into trouble." + +"No, no, Billy Little, you are wrong. I cannot escape blame by placing +the fault upon her. I should despise myself if I did; but I would be a +blind fool not to see that--that--oh, I cannot explain. You know there +are Jap Bertram, Dick Olders, Tom Printz, and, above all, Tom Bays, who +are her close friends and constant visitors and--and, you know--you +understand my doubts. I do not trust her. I may be wrong, but I suppose +I should wish to err on the right side. It is better that I should err +in trusting her than to be unjust in doubting her. The first question +is: Shall I marry Sukey if Rita will forgive me? The second, Shall I +marry her if Rita refuses to forgive me? Am I bound by honor and duty to +sacrifice my happiness for the sake of the girl whom I do not, but +perhaps should, trust?" + +"I don't see that your happiness has anything to do with the case," +returned Billy. "If that alone were to be considered, I should say marry +Sukey regardless of your doubts. You deserve the penalty; but Rita has +done no sin, and you have no right to punish her to pay your debts. You +are bound by every tie of honor to marry her, and you shall do so. The +dimpler is trying to take you from Rita, and if you are not careful your +fool conscience will help her to do it." + +"If Rita will forgive me," said Dic. + +"She'll forgive you sooner or later," answered Billy. "Her love and +forgiveness are benedictions she cannot withhold nor you escape." + +I doubt if Billy Little would have been so eager in forwarding this +marriage had not Williams been frowning in the background. Billy, as you +know, had a heart of his own--a bachelor heart; but he hated Williams, +and was intensely jealous of him. So, taking the situation at its worst, +Dic was the lesser of two evils. But, as I have already told you many +times, he passionately loved Dic for his own sake, and his unselfish +regard for the priceless girl made the young man doubly valuable as a +means to her happiness. If Rita wanted a lover, she must have him. If +she wanted the moon, she ought to have it--should have it, if Billy +Little could get it for her. So felt Billy, whose advice brought joy to +Dic. It also brought to him the necessity of a painful interview with +Sukey. He dreaded the interview, and told Billy he thought he would +write to Sukey instead. + +"You can pay at least a small part of the penalty you owe by seeing the +girl and bearing the pain of an interview," replied Billy. "But if you +are too cowardly to visit her, write. I suppose that's what I should do +if I were in your place. But I'd be a poor example for a manly man to +follow." + +"I'll see her," replied Dic. "Poor Sukey! I pity her." + +"It isn't safe to pity a girl like Sukey. Pity has a dangerous kinsman," +observed Billy. + + * * * * * + +On his way home, Dic called upon Sukey, and, finding her out, left word +he would return that evening. When she received the message her heart +throbbed with hope, and the dimples twinkled joyously for the first time +in many days. She used all the simple arts at her command to adorn +herself for his reception, and toiled to assist the dimples in the great +part they would soon be called upon to play in the drama of her life. +She knew that Dic did not trust her, and from that knowledge grew her +own doubts as to the course he would take. Hope and fear warmed and +chilled her heart by turns; but her efforts to display her charms were +truly successful; and faith, born of man's admiration, led her to +believe she would that night win the greatest prize the world had to +offer, and would save herself from ruin and disgrace. + +Soon after supper the family were relegated to the kitchen, and Sukey, +with palpitating heart, waited in the front room for Dic. + +Among our simple rural folk a decollete gown was considered immodest. In +order to be correct the collar must cover the throat, as nearly to the +chin and ears as possible. Sukey's dresses were built upon this plan, +much to her regret; for her throat and bosom were as white and +plump--but never mind the description. They suited Sukey, and so far as +I have ever heard they were entirely satisfactory to those so fortunate +as to behold them. Therefore, when she was alone, knowing well the +inutility of the blushing rose unseen, she opened the dress collar and +tucked it under at each side, displaying her rounded white throat, with +its palpitating little spot--almost another dimple--where it merged into +the bosom. There was no immodest exposure, but when Mrs. Yates returned +to the room for her glasses, the collar was quickly readjusted and +remained in place till Dic's step was heard. Now, ready, and all +together: dimples, lips, teeth, eyes, and throat, do your duty! So much +depended upon Dic that she wanted to fall upon her knees when he +entered. It grieves me to write thus of our poor, simple little girl, +whose faults were thrust upon her, and I wish I might have told this +story with reference only to her dimples and her sweetness; but Dic +shall not be hopelessly condemned for his sin, if I can prevent it, save +by those who are entitled to cast stones, and to prevent such +condemnation I must tell you the truth about Sukey. The fact that he +would not claim the extenuation of temptation is at least some reason +why he should have it. + +I shall not tell you the details of this interview. Soon after Dic's +arrival our little Hebe was in tears, and he, moved by her suffering, +could not bring himself to tell her his determination. Truly, Billy was +right. It was dangerous to pity such a girl. Dic neither consented nor +refused to marry her, but weakly evaded the subject, and gave her the +impression that he would comply with her wishes. He did not intend to +create that impression; but in her ardent desire she construed his +silence to suit herself, and, becoming radiant with joy, was prettier +and more enticing than she had ever before appeared. Therefore, as every +man will agree, Dic's task became difficult in proportion, and painful +beyond his most gloomy anticipations. His weakness grew out of a great +virtue--the wholesome dread of inflicting pain. + +During the evening Sukey offered Dic a cup of cider, and her heart beat +violently while he drank. + +"It has a peculiar taste," he remarked. + +"There are crab apples in it," the girl answered. + +There was something more than crab apples in the cider; there was a love +powder, and two hours after Dic's arrival at home he became ill. Dr. +Kennedy ascribed the illness to poisoning, and for a time it looked as +if Sukey's love powder would solve several problems; but Dic recovered, +and the problems were still unsolved. + +From the day Dic received Sukey's unwelcome letter, he knew it was his +duty to inform Rita of his trouble. He was sure she would soon learn the +interesting truth from disinterested friends, should the secret become +public property on Blue, and he wanted at least the benefit of an honest +confession. That selfishness, however, was but a small part of his +motive. He sincerely felt that it was Rita's privilege to know all about +the affair, and his duty to tell her. He had no desire to conceal his +sin; he would not take her love under a false pretence. He almost felt +that confession would purge him of his sin, and looked forward with a +certain pleasure to the pain he would inflict upon himself in telling +her. In his desire for self-castigation he lost sight of the pain he +would inflict upon her. He knew she would be pained by the disclosure, +but he feared more its probable effect upon her love for him, and looked +for indignant contempt and scorn from her, rather than for the +manifestation of great pain. He resolved to write to Rita at once and +make a clean breast of it; but Billy advised him to wait till she was +entirely well. + +Dic, quite willing to postpone his confession, wrote several letters, +which kind Miss Tousy delivered; but he did not speak of Sukey Yates +until Rita's letters informed him that she was growing strong. Then he +wrote to her and told her in as few words as possible the miserable +story of his infidelity. He did not blame Sukey, nor excuse himself. He +simply stated the fact and said: "I hardly dare hope for your +forgiveness. It seems that you must despise me as I despise myself. It +is needless for me to tell you of my love for you, which has not wavered +during so many years that I have lost their count. But now that I +deserve your scorn; now that I am in dread of losing you who have so +long been more than all else to me, you are dearer than ever before. +Write to me, I beg, and tell me that you do not despise me. Ah, Rita, +compared to you, there is no beauty, no purity, no tenderness in the +world. There seems to be but one woman--you, and I have thrown away your +love as if I were a blind fool who did not know its value. Write to me, +I beg, and tell me that I am forgiven." + +But she did not write to him. In place of a letter he received a small +package containing the ivory box and the unfortunate band of gold that +had brought trouble to Billy Little long years before. + + + + +WISE MISS TOUSY + +CHAPTER XIV + +WISE MISS TOUSY + + +Upon first reading Dic's letter, Rita was stunned by its contents; but +within a day or two her thoughts and emotions began to arrange +themselves, and out of order came conclusion. The first conclusion was a +surprise to her: she did not love Dic as she had supposed. A scornful +indifference seemed to occupy the place in her heart that for years had +been Dic's. With that indifference came a sense of change. Dic was not +the Dic she had known and loved. He was another person; and to this +feeling of strangeness was added one of scorn. This new Dic was a man +unworthy of any pure girl's love; and although her composite emotion was +streaked with excruciating pain, as a whole it was decidedly against +him, and she felt that she wished never to see him again. She began a +letter to him, but did not care to finish it, and returned the ring +without comment, that being the only answer he deserved. Pages of scorn +could not have brought to Dic a keener realization of the certainty and +enormity of his loss. He returned the ring to Billy Little. + +"I thank you for it, Billy, though it has brought grief to me as it did +to you. I do not blame the ring; my loss is my own fault; but it is +strange that the history of the ring should repeat itself. It almost +makes one superstitious." + +"Egad! no one else shall suffer by it," said Billy, opening the huge +iron stove and throwing the ring into the fire. + +Dic's loss was so heavy that it mollified Billy's anger, which for +several days had been keen against his young friend. Billy's own pain +and grief also had a softening effect upon his anger; for with Dic out +of the way, Rita Bays, he thought, would soon become Mrs. Roger +Williams, and that thought was torture to the bachelor heart. + +Rita, bearing the name of his first and only sweetheart, had entered the +heart of this man's second youth; and in the person of Dic he was wooing +her and fighting the good fight of love against heavy odds. Dic, upon +receiving the ring, was ready to surrender; but Billy well knew that +many a battle had been won after defeat, and was determined not to throw +down his arms. + +Thinking over his situation, Dic became convinced that since Rita was +lost to him, he was in honor bound to marry Sukey Yates. Life would be a +desert waste, but there was no one to thank for the future Sahara but +himself, and the self-inflicted sand and thirst must be endured. The +thought of marrying Sukey Yates at first caused him almost to hate her; +but after he had pondered the subject three or four days, familiarity +bred contempt of its terrors. Once having accepted the unalterable, he +was at least rid of the pain of suspense. He tried to make himself +believe that his pain was not so keen as he had expected it would be; +and by shutting out of his mind all thoughts of Rita, he partially +succeeded. + +Sunday afternoon Dic saw Sukey at church and rode home with her, resting +that evening upon her ciphering log. He had determined to tell her that +he would marry her; but despite his desire to end the suspense, he could +not bring himself to speak the words. He allowed her to believe, by +inference, what she chose, and she, though still in great doubt, felt +that the important question was almost settled in her favor. + +During the interim of four or five days Billy Little secretly called +upon Miss Tousy, and incidentally dropped in to see Rita. + +After discussing matters of health and weather, Billy said: "Rita, you +must not be too hard on Dic. He was not to blame. Sukey is a veritable +little Eve, and--" + +"Billy Little, I am sorry to hear you place the blame on Sukey. I +suppose Dic tells you she was to blame." + +"By Jove! I've made a nice mess of it," muttered Billy. "No, Dic blames +himself entirely, but I know whereof I speak. That girl is in love with +him, and has set this trap to steal him from you and get him for +herself. She has been trying for a long time to entrap him, and you are +helping her. Dic is a true, pure man, who has been enticed into error +and suffers for it. You had better die unmarried than to lose him." + +"I hope to die unmarried, and I pray that I may die soon," returned Rita +with a deep, sad sigh. + +"No, you'll not die unmarried. You will marry Williams," said Billy, +looking earnestly into her eyes. + +"I shall not." + +"If you wish to throw Dic over and marry Williams, you should openly +avow it, and not seize this misfortune of Dic's as an excuse." + +"Oh, Billy Little, you don't think me capable of that, do you?" answered +Rita, reproachfully. + +"Do you give me your word you will not marry Williams?" asked Billy, +eagerly. + +"Yes, I give you my word I will not marry him, if--if I can help it," +she answered, and poor Billy collapsed. He took his handkerchief from +his pocket to dry the perspiration on his face, although the room was +cold, and Rita drew forth her handkerchief to dry her tears. + +"Dic loves you, Rita. He is one man out of ten thousand. He is honest, +true, and pure-minded. He has sinned, I know; but he has repented. One +sin doesn't make a sinner, and repentance is the market price of mercy. +I know a great deal of this world, my girl, and of its men and women, +and I tell you Dic is as fine a character as I know. I don't know a man +that is his equal. Don't let this one fault condemn him and yourself to +wretchedness." + +"I shall not be wretched," she replied, the picture of woe, "for I +don't--don't care for him. I'm surprised, Billy Little, that I do not, +and I think less of myself. There must be something wrong about me. I +must be wicked when my--my love can turn so easily to indifference. But +I do not care for him. He is nothing to me any more. You may be sure I +speak the truth and--and although I am glad to have you here, I don't +want you to remain if you continue to speak of--of him." + +The situation certainly was confusing, and Billy, in a revery, resorted +to Maxwelton's braes as a brain clarifier. Soon wild thoughts came to +his mind, and wilder hopes arose in his bachelor heart. This girl, whom +he had loved for, lo, these many years, was now free of heart and hand. +Could it be possible there was hope for him? Pat with this strange +thought spoke Rita:-- + +"You say he is a splendid man, pure and true and honest; but you know, +Billy Little, that measured by the standard of your life, he is not. I +used to think he was like you, that you had made him like yourself, and +I did love him, Billy Little. I did love him. But there is no one like +you. You are now my only friend." Tears came to her eyes, and she leaned +toward Billy, gently taking his hand between her soft palms. Tumult +caused the poor bachelor heart to lose self-control, and out of its +fulness to speak:-- + +"You would not marry me?" he asked. The words were meant as a question, +but fortunately Rita understood them as a mere statement of a patent +fact, spoken jestingly, so she answered with a laugh:-- + +"No, of course not. I could not marry you, Billy Little. But I wish you +were young; then, do you know, I would make you propose to me. You +should not have been born so soon, Billy Little. But if I can't have you +for my husband, I'll have you for my second father, and _you_ shall not +desert me." + +Her jest quickly drove the wild hopes out of the bachelor heart, and +Billy trembled when he thought of what he had tried to say. He left the +house much agitated, and returned to see Miss Tousy. After a +consultation with that lady covering an hour, he went to the tavern and +took the stage for home. + +Next day, in the midst of Dic's struggles for peace, and at a time when +he had almost determined to marry Sukey Yates, a letter came from Miss +Tousy, asking him to go to see her. While waiting for the stage, Dic +exhibited Miss Tousy's letter, and Billy feigned surprise. + +Two or three days previous to the writing of Miss Tousy's letter, Rita +had told that sympathetic young lady the story of the trouble with Dic. +The confidence was given one afternoon in Miss Tousy's cosey little +parlor. + +"When is your friend Mr. Bright coming to see you?" asked Miss Tousy. +"You are welcome to meet him here if you cannot receive him at home." + +"He will not come again at all," answered Rita, closely scanning her +hands folded on her lap. + +"Why?" asked her friend, in much concern, "has your mother at last +forced you to give him up?" + +"No, mother knows nothing of it yet--nothing at all. I simply sent his +ring back and don't want to--to see him again. Never." + +"My dear girl, you are crazy," exclaimed Miss Tousy. "You don't know +what you are doing--unless you have grown fond of Mr. Williams; but I +can't believe that is true. No girl would think twice of him when so +splendid a fellow as Dic--Mr. Bright--was--" + +"No, indeed," interrupted Rita, "that can never be true. I would never +care for any man as I cared for--for him. But I care for him no longer. +It is all over between--between--it is all over." + +From the hard expression of the girl's face one might easily have +supposed she was speaking the truth; there was no trace of emotion. + +"But, Rita! This will never do!" insisted Miss Tousy. "You don't know +yourself. You are taking a step that will wreck your happiness. You +should also consider him." + +"You don't know what he has done," answered Rita, still looking down at +her folded hands. + +"I don't _care_ what he has done. You did not make yourself love him, +and you cannot throw off your love. You may for a time convince yourself +that you are indifferent, but you are simply lying to yourself, my dear +girl, and you had better lie to any one else--the consequences will be +less serious. Never deceive yourself, Rita. That is a deception you +can't maintain. You may perhaps deceive all the rest of the world so +long as you live--many a person has done it--but yourself--hopeless, +Rita, perfectly hopeless." + +"I'm not deceiving myself," answered the wilful girl. "You don't know +what he has done." + +"I don't _care_," retorted Miss Tousy warmly. "If he were my lover, I--I +tell you, Rita Bays, I'd forgive him. I'd keep him. He is one out of a +thousand--so big and handsome; so honest, strong, and true." + +"But he's not true; that's the trouble," answered Rita, angrily, +although there had been a soft, tell-tale radiance in her eyes when Miss +Tousy praised him. + +"Ah, he has been inveigled into smiling upon another girl," asked Miss +Tousy, laughing and taking Rita's hand. "That is the penalty you must +pay for having so splendid a lover. Of course other girls will want him. +I should like to have him myself--and, Rita, there are lots of girls +bold enough or weak enough to seek him outright. You mustn't see those +little things. Frequently the best use a woman can make of her eyes is +to shut them." + +In place of shutting her eyes, Rita began to weep, and Miss Tousy +continued:-- + +"This man loves you and no other, my sweet one. That's the great thing, +after all. No girl can steal his heart from you--of that you may be +sure." + +"But I say you don't know," sobbed Rita. "I will tell you." And she did +tell her, stumbling, sobbing, and blushing through the narrative of +Dic's unforgivable perfidy. + +Miss Tousy whistled in surprise. After a moment of revery she said: "She +is trying to steal him, Rita, and she is as bad as she can be. If you +will give me your promise that you will never tell, I'll tell you +something Sue Davidson told me." Rita promised. "Not long since your +brother Tom called on Sue and left his great-coat in the hall. Sue's +young sister got to rummaging in Tom's great-coat pockets, for candy, I +suppose, and found a letter from this same Sukey Yates to Tom. Sue told +me about the letter. It breathed the most passionate love, and implored +Tom to save her from the ruin he had wrought. So you see, Dic is not to +blame." She paused, expecting her listener to agree with her; but Rita +sighed and murmured:-- + +"He is not excusable because others have been wicked." + +"But I tell you I wouldn't let that little wretch steal him from me," +insisted Miss Tousy. "That's what she's trying to do, and you're +helping her. When she was here I saw plainly that she was infatuated +with him, and was bound to win him at any price--at any cost. She had no +eyes nor dimples for any one else when he was by; yet he did not notice +her--did not see her smiles and dimples. Don't tell me he cares for her. +He had eyes for no one but you. Haven't you seen how other girls act +toward him? Didn't you notice how Sue Davidson went at him every chance +she got?" + +"No," answered Rita, still studying her folded hands, and regardless of +her tear-stained face. + +"I think Sue is the prettiest girl in town, excepting you," continued +Miss Tousy, "and if she could not attract him, it would be hopeless for +any one else to try." + +"Nonsense," murmured Rita, referring to that part of Miss Tousy's remark +which applied to herself. + +"No, it isn't nonsense, Rita. You are the prettiest girl I ever saw--but +no matter. She is pretty enough for me to hate her. She is the sort of +pretty girl that all women hate and fear. She obtrudes her +prettiness--keeps her attractions always _en evidence_, as the French +say. She moistens her lips to make them tempting, and twitches the right +side of her face to work that dimple of hers. She is so attractive that +she is not usually driven to seek a man openly; but Dic--I mean Mr. +Bright--did not even see her smiles. Every one else did; and I will +wager anything you like she has written love-notes to him--real +love-notes. He would, of course, be too honorable to tell. He's not the +sort of man who would kiss and tell--he is the sort women trust with +their favors--but I'll wager I'm right about Sue Davidson." She was +right, though Dic's modesty had not permitted him to see Miss D.'s notes +in the light Miss Tousy saw them. + +"He is not the man," continued Miss Tousy, "to blame a girl for a fault +of that sort, even in his own mind, and he would not explain at a +woman's expense to save his life. With a man of his sort, the girl is to +blame nine times out of ten. I wouldn't give a fippenny bit for a man no +other girl wanted. There is a large class of women you don't know yet, +Rita. You are too young. The world has a batch of mawkish theories about +them, but there are also a few very cold facts kept in the dark,--lodge +secrets among the sex. Dic is modest, and modesty in an attractive man +is dangerous--the most dangerous thing in the world, Rita. Deliver me +from a shy, attractive man, unless he cares a great deal for me. Shyness +in a man is apt to make a girl bold." + +"It did not make me bold," said Rita, with a touch of fire. + +"Not in the least?" asked Miss Tousy, leaning over the girl's lap, +looking up into her face and laughing. "Now come, Rita, confess; you're +as modest as a girl has any good reason to be, but tell me, didn't +you--didn't you do your part? Now confess." + +"Well, I may have been a little bold, I admit, a very little--just +at--you know, just at one time. I _had_ to be a little--just a +little--you see--you know, outspoken, or--you know what I mean. He might +not have--oh, you understand how such things happen." + +The hands in the lap were growing very interesting during these remarks, +and the tear-stained cheeks were very hot and red. + +"Yes, yes, dear," said Miss Tousy, leaning forward and kissing the hot +cheeks, "yes, yes, sweet one. I know one just _has_ to help them a bit; +but that is not boldness, that is charity." + +"Since I think about it, perhaps I was," murmured Rita. "I know I have +often turned hot all over because of several things I did; but I cared +so much for him. I was so young and ignorant. That was over two years +ago. I cared so much for him and was all bewildered. Nothing seemed +real to me during several months of that time. Part of the time it +seemed I was in a nightmare, and again, it was like being in heaven. A +poor girl is not a responsible being at such times. She doesn't know +what she does nor what she wants; but it's all over now. I ... don't ... +care anything ... about ... him now. It's all over." Such a mournful +little voice you never heard, and such a mournful little face you never +saw. Still, it was all over. + +Miss Tousy softly kissed her and said: "Well, well, we'll straighten it +all out. There, don't cry, sweet one." But Rita did cry, and found +comfort in resting her head on Miss Tousy's sympathetic bosom. + +The letter Sue Davidson had found altered Rita's feeling toward Sukey; +but it left untouched Dic's sin against herself, and she insisted that +she did not care for him, and never, never would forgive. With all her +gentleness she had strong nerves, and her spirit, when aroused, was too +high to brook patiently the insult Dic had put upon her. Miss Tousy's +words had not moved her from her position. Dic was no longer Dic. He was +another person, and she could love no man but Dic. She had loved him all +her life, and she could love none other. With such poor sophistry did +she try to convince herself that she was indifferent. At times she +succeeded beyond her most sanguine hope, and tried to drive conviction +home by a song. But the song always changed to tears, the tears to +anger, anger to sophistry, and all in turn to a dull pain at the heart, +making her almost wish she were dead. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile the affairs of Fisher and Fox were becoming more and more +involved. Crops had failed, and collections could not be made. Williams, +under alleged imperative orders from Boston, was pressing for money +or security. Tom had "overdrawn" his account in Williams's office; and, +with the penitentiary staring him in the face, was clamoring for money +to make good the overdraft. At home he used the words "overdraft" and +"overdrawn" in confessing the situation. Williams, when speaking to Tom +of the shortage, had used the words "embezzlement" and "thief." + +[Illustration: "MISS TOUSY SOFTLY KISSED HER AND SAID, ... 'THERE, DON'T +CRY, SWEET ONE.'"] + +Rita's illness had prevented Williams's visits; but when she recovered, +he began calling, though he was ominously sullen in his courtship, and +his passion for the girl looked very much like a mania. + +One evening at supper table, Tom said: "Father, I must have five hundred +dollars. I have overdrawn my account with Williams, and I'll lose my +place if it is not paid. I _must_ have it. Can't you help me?" + +"What on earth have you been doing with the money?" asked Tom, Sr. "I +have paid your tailor bills and your other bills to a sufficient amount, +in all conscience, and what could you have done with the money you got +from Williams and your salary?" + +Tom tried to explain, and soon the Chief Justice joined in: "La, father, +there are so many temptations in town for young men, and our Tom is so +popular. Money goes fast, doesn't it, Tom? The boy can't tell what went +with it. Poor Tom! If your father was half a man, he'd get the money for +you; that's what he would. If your sister was not the most wicked, +selfish girl alive, she could settle all our troubles. Mr. Williams +would not press his brother-in-law or his wife's father. I have toiled +and suffered and worked for that girl all my life, and so has her +father, and so have you, Tom. We have all toiled and suffered and worked +for her, and now she's too ungrateful to help us. Oh, 'sharper than a +serpent's tooth,' as the Immortal Bard of Avon truly says." + +Rita began to cry and rose from her chair, intending to leave the room, +but her mother detained her. + +"Sit down!" she commanded. "At least you shall hear of the trouble you +bring upon us. I have been thinking of a plan, and maybe you can help us +carry it out if you want to do anything to help your father and brother. +As for myself, I don't care. I am always willing to suffer and endure. +'Blessed are they that suffer, for they shall inherit the kingdom of +heaven.'" + +Tom pricked up his ears, Tom, Sr., put down his knife and fork to +listen, and Rita again took her seat at table. + +"Billy Little has plenty of money," continued Mrs. Margarita, addressing +her daughter. "The old skinflint has refused to lend it to your father +or Tom, but perhaps he'll not refuse you if you ask him. I believe the +old fool is in love with you. What they all want with you I can't see, +but if you'll write to him--" + +"Oh, I can't, mother, I can't," cried Rita, in a flood of tears. + +I will not drag the reader through another scene of heart failure and +maternal raving. Rita, poor girl, at last surrendered, and, amid tears +of humiliation, wrote to Billy Little, telling of her father's distress, +her mother's commands, and her own grief because she was compelled to +apply to him. "You need not fear loss of your money, my friend," she +wrote, honestly believing that she told the truth. "You will soon be +repaid. Mr. Williams is demanding money from my father and Uncle Jim, +and I dislike, for many reasons well known to you, to be under +obligations to him. If you can, without inconvenience to yourself, lend +this money, it will help father greatly just at this time, and will +perhaps save me from a certain frightful importunity. The money will be +repaid to you after harvest, when collections become easier. If I did +not honestly believe so, even my mother's commands would not induce me +to write this letter." + +Rita fully believed the money would be paid; but Billy knew that if he +made the loan, he would be throwing his money away forever. + +After making good Dic's loss of twenty-six hundred dollars,--which sum, +you may remember, went to Bays,--Little had remaining in his strong-box +notes to the amount of two thousand dollars, which, together with his +small stock of goods and two or three hundred dollars in cash, +constituted the total sum of his worldly wealth. He had reached a point +in life where he plainly saw old age staring him in the face--an ugly +stare which few can return with equanimity. The small bundle of notes +was all that stood between him and want when that time should come "sans +everything." But Williams was staring Rita in the face, and if the +little hoard could save her, she was welcome to it. + +Billy's sleep the night after he received Rita's letter was meagre and +disturbed, but next morning he took his notes and his poor little +remainder of cash and went to Indianapolis. He discounted the notes, as +he had done in Dic's case, and with the proceeds he went to the store of +Fisher and Bays. Fisher was present when Billy entered the private +office and announced his readiness to supply the firm with twenty-three +hundred dollars on their note of hand. The money, of course, being +borrowed by the firm, went to the firm account, and was at once applied +by Fisher upon one of the many Williams notes. Therefore Tom's +"overdrafts" remained _in statu quo_; likewise the penitentiary. + +The payment of Billy Little's twenty-three hundred dollars upon the +Williams debt did not help matters in the least. The notes owed by the +firm of Fisher and Bays to the Williams house aggregated nearly fourteen +thousand dollars, and Billy's poor little all did not stem the tide of +importunity one day, although it left him penniless. The thought of his +poverty was of course painful to Billy, but he rode home that evening +without seeing Rita, happy and exultant in the mistaken belief that he +had helped to save her from the grasp of Williams. + +That same evening at supper Tom, Sr., told of Billy Little's loan, and +there was at once an outburst of wrath from mother and son because part +of the money had not been applied to Tom's "overdraft." + +"The pitiful sum of twenty-three hundred dollars!" cried Tom. "The old +skinflint might as well have kept his money for all the good it will do +us. Do you think that will keep Williams from suing us?" In Tom's +remarks Mrs. Bays concurred, saying that she "always knew he was a mean +old miser." + +Rita tried to speak in her friend's defence, but the others furiously +silenced her, so she broke down entirely, covered her face with her +hands, and wept bitterly. She went through the after-supper work amid +blinding tears, and when she had finished she sought her room. Without +undressing she lay down on the bed, sobbing till the morning light shone +in at her window. Before she had lost Dic her heart could fly from every +trouble and find sweet comfort in thoughts of him; but now there was no +refuge. She was alone in the world, save for Billy Little. She loved her +father, but she knew he was weak. She loved Tom, but she could not help +despising him. She loved her mother, but she feared her, and knew there +was no comfort or consolation for her in that hard heart. Billy had not +come to see her when he brought the money, and she feared she had +offended him by asking for it. + +Such was the situation when Dic received Miss Tousy's letter inviting +him to call upon her. + + * * * * * + +Miss Tousy greeted Dic kindly when he presented himself at her door, and +led him to the same cosey front parlor wherein Rita had imparted the +story of her woes and of Dic's faithlessness. She left her guest in the +parlor a moment or two, while she despatched a note to a friend in town. +When she returned she said:-- + +"I'm sorry to hear of the trouble between you and Rita, and am +determined it shall be made up at once." + +"I fear that is impossible, Miss Tousy," returned Dic, sadly. "She will +never forgive me. I should not were I in her place. I do not expect it +and am not worth it." + +"But she will forgive you; she will not be able to hold out against you +five minutes if you crowd her. Trust my word. I know more about girls +than you do; but, above all, I know Rita." + +Miss Tousy watched him as he stood before her, hanging his head, a very +handsome picture of abject humility. After a moment of silence Dic +answered:-- + +"Miss Tousy, the truth is, I have lost all self-respect, and know that I +am both a fool and a--a criminal. Rita will not, cannot, and ought not +to forgive me. I am entirely unworthy of her. She is gentle and tender +as she can be; but she has more spirit than you would suspect. I have +seen her under the most trying circumstances, and with all her +gentleness she is very strong. I have lost her and must give her up." + +"You'll be no such fool," cried Miss Tousy; "but some one is knocking at +the front door. Be seated, please." She opened the front hall door, +kissed "some one" who had knocked, and said to "some one":-- + +"Step into the parlor, please. I will be with you soon." Then she closed +the parlor door and basely fled. + +Dic sprang to his feet, and Rita, turning backward toward the door, +stood trembling, her hand on the knob. + +"Don't go, Rita," said Dic, huskily. "I did not know you were coming +here. I give you my word, I did not set a trap for you. Miss Tousy will +tell you I had no thought of seeing you here. I wanted to see you, but +I would not try to entrap you. I intended going to your house openly +that you might refuse to see me if you wished; but since you are here, +please--oh, Rita, for God's sake, stay and hear me. I am almost crazed +by what I have suffered, though I deserve it all, all. You don't know +what I have to say." She partly opened the door; but he stepped quickly +to her side, shut the door, and spoke almost angrily:-- + +"You shall hear me, and after I have spoken, if you wish, you may go, +but not until then." + +He unclasped her hand from the knob, and, using more of his great +strength than he knew, led her to a chair and brought another for +himself. + +The touch of command in Dic's manner sent a strange thrill to the girl's +heart, and she learned in one brief moment that all her sophistry had +been in vain; that her love was not dead, and could not be killed. That +knowledge, however, did not change her resolution not to forgive him. +You see, there was a touch of the Chief Justice in the girl. + +"I want you to hear me, Rita, and, if you can, I want you to forgive me, +and then I want you to forget me," said Dic. + +The words "forget me" were not what she had expected to hear. She had +supposed he would make a plea for forgiveness and beg to be taken back; +but the words "forget me," seeming to lead in another direction, +surprised her. With all her resolutions she was not prepared to forget. +She lifted her eyes for a fleeting glance, and could not help thinking +that the memory of his face had been much less effective than its +presence. The tones of his voice, too, were stronger and sweeter at +close range than she had remembered. In short, Dic by her side and Dic +twenty-five miles away were two different propositions--the former a +very dangerous and irresistible one, indeed. Still, she would not +forgive him. She could not and would not forget him; but she would shut +her eyes to the handsome face, she would close her ears to the deep, +strong voice, she would harden her heart to his ardent love, and, alas! +to her own. She insisted to herself that she no longer loved him, and +never, never would. + +Every word that Sukey had ever spoken concerning Dic, every meeting of +which she knew that had ever taken place between him and the +dimpler,--in fact, all the trivial events that had happened between her +lover and the girl who was trying to steal him from her, including the +occurrence at Scott's social,--came vividly back to Rita at that moment +with exaggerated meaning, and told her she had for years been a poor, +trusting dupe. She would listen to Dic because he was the stronger and +could compel her to remain in the room; but when he should finish, she +would go and would never speak to Miss Tousy again. + +"This is a terrible calamity I have brought upon us," said Dic, speaking +with difficulty and constraint. "It is like blindness or madness, and +means wretchedness for life to you and me." + +Still the unexpected direction, thought Rita, but she answered out of +her firm resolve:-- + +"I shall not be wretched, for I do not--don't care. The time was when I +did care very, very much; but now I--" She did not finish the sentence, +and her conscience reproached her, for she knew she was uttering a big, +black lie. + +Dic had expected scorn, and had thought he would be able to bear it +without flinching. He had fortified himself days before by driving all +hope out of his heart, but (as we say and feel when our dear ones die) +he was not prepared, even though he well knew what was coming. Her words +stunned him for a moment, but he soon pulled himself together, and his +unselfish love brought a feeling akin to relief: a poor, dry sort of +joy, because he had learned that she did not suffer the pain that was +torturing him. No mean part of his pain was because of Rita's suffering. +If she did not suffer, he could endure the penalty of his sin with +greater fortitude. This slight relief came to him, not because his love +was weak, but because his unselfishness was strong. + +"If I could really believe that you do not care," he said, struggling +with a torturing lump in his throat, "if I could surely know that you do +not suffer the pain I feel, I might endure it--God in heaven! I suppose +I might endure it. But when I think that I have brought suffering to +you, I am almost wild." + +The girl's hands were folded demurely upon her lap, and she was gazing +down at them. She lifted her eyes for an instant, and there was an +unwonted hardness in them as she answered: "You need not waste any +sympathy on me. I don't want it." + +"Is it really true, Rita," he asked, "that you no longer care for me? +Was your love a mere garment you could throw off at will?" He paused, +but Rita making no reply, he continued: "It wounds my vanity to learn +that I so greatly overestimated your love for me, and I can hardly +believe that you speak the truth, but--but I hope--I almost hope you do. +Every sense of honor I possess tells me I must accept the wages of my +sin and marry Sukey Yates, even though--" + +Suddenly a change came over the scene. The girl who had been so passive +and cold at once became active and very warm. She sprang to her feet, +panting with excitement. Resolutions and righteous indignation were +scattered to the four winds by the tremendous shock of his words. Sukey +at last had stolen him. That thought seemed to be burning itself into +the very heart of her consciousness. + +"You--you marry Sukey Yates!" she cried, breathing heavily and leaning +toward Dic, one hand resting on the arm of his chair, "you _marry_ her?" +The question was almost a wail. + +"But if you no longer care there can be no reason why I should not," +said Dic, hardly knowing in the whirl of his surprise what he was +saying. + +Rita thought of the letter to Tom, and all the sympathetic instincts of +her nature sprang up to protect Dic, and to save him from Sukey's wicked +designs. + +"Oh," she cried, falling back into her chair, "you surely did not +believe me!" + +"And you do care?" asked Dic, almost stunned by her sudden change of +front. Rita's conduct had always been so sedate and sensible that he did +not suppose she was possessed of ordinary feminine weaknesses. + +"Oh, Dic," she replied, "I never thought you would desert me." +_In_consistency may also be a jewel. + +Dic concluded he was an incarnate mistake. Whichever way he turned, he +seemed to be wrong. + +"I desert you?" he exclaimed. "But you returned my ring and did not even +answer my letter, and now your scorn--" + +"What else could you expect?" asked the girl, in a passionate flow of +tears. + +"I don't know what I expected, but I certainly did not expect this," +answered Dic, musing on the blessed fault of inconsistency that dwells +in every normal woman's breast. "I did not expect this, or I should have +acted differently toward her after you returned the ring. I would not +have--I--I--God help me!" and he buried his face in his hands. + +"You would not have done what, Dic? Tell me all." Her heart came to him +in his trouble. He had sinned, but he was suffering, and that she could +not bear. + +The low, soft tones of her voice soothed him, and he answered: "I would +not have allowed her to believe I intended marrying her. I did not tell +her in words that I would, but--I can't tell you. I can't speak." He saw +Rita's face turn pale, and though his words almost choked him, he +continued, "I suppose I must pay the penalty of my sin." + +He gently put the girl from him, and went to the window, where he +leaned, gazing into the street. She also rose, and stood waiting for him +to speak. After a long pause she called his name,-- + +"Dic!" + +When he turned she was holding out her arms to him, and the next moment +they were round his neck. + +After a blank hour of almost total silence in the parlor, Miss Tousy +came to the door and knocked. She had listened at the door several times +during the hour; but, hearing no enlightening words or sounds, she had +retreated in good order. + +Allowing a moment to elapse after knocking, Miss Tousy called:-- + +"Are you still there?" + +Rita had been very still there, and was vividly conscious of the fact +when Miss Tousy knocked. Going to the door, Rita opened it, saying:-- + +"Yes, we are still here. I'm ashamed to have kept you out so long." She +looked her shame and blushed most convincingly. + +Upon hearing the knock, Dic hurried over to the window, and when Miss +Tousy entered he deluded himself into the belief that his attitude of +careless repose would induce her to conclude he had been standing there +all the afternoon. But Miss Tousy, in common with all other young +ladies, had innate knowledge upon such subjects, and possibly also a +little experience--she was twenty-five, mind you--; so she was amused +rather than deceived. + +"Well?" she asked, and paused for answer. + +"Yes," answered Rita. + +They understood each other, if we do not, for Miss Tousy kissed Rita and +then boldly went to Dic and deliberately kissed him. Thereupon Rita +cried, "Oh!" Dic blushed, and all three laughed. + +"But I'll leave you to yourselves again," said accommodating Miss Tousy. +"I know you want to be alone." + +"Oh, we are through," answered Rita, blushing, and Dic reluctantly +assented. Miss Tousy laughed and asked:-- + +"Through what?" + +Then there was more blushing and more laughing, and Rita replied, "Just +through--that's all." + +"Well, I congratulate you," said Miss Tousy, taking Rita's hand, "and am +very happy that I have been the means of bringing you together again. +Take the advice of one who is older than you," continued Miss Tousy, the +old and the wise, "and never, never again allow anything to separate +you. Love is the sweetest blossom of life, whose gentle wings will +always cover you with the aromatic harmony of an everlasting sunlight." +Rita thought the metaphor beautiful, and Dic was too interested to be +critical. Then Rita and Miss Tousy, without any reason at all, began to +weep, and Dic felt as uncomfortable as the tears of two women could make +him. + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS GIFT + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CHRISTMAS GIFT + + +Dic started home with his heart full of unalloyed happiness; but at the +end of four hours, when he was stabling his horse, the old pain for the +sake of another's sorrow asserted itself, and his happiness seemed to be +a sin. Rita's tender heart also underwent a change while she lay that +night wakeful with joy and gazing into the darkness. + +Amid all her joy came the ever recurring vision of Sukey's wretchedness. +While under the convincing influence of her own arguments and Dic's +resistless presence, she had seen but one side of the question,--her +own; but darkness is a great help to the inner sight, and now the other +side of the case had its hearing. She remembered Sukey's letter to Tom, +but she knew the unfortunate girl loved Dic. Was it right, she asked +herself over and over again, was it right that she should be happy at +the cost of another's woe? Then came again the flood of her great +longing--the longing of her whole life--and she tried to tell herself +she did not care who suffered, she intended to be happy. That was the +way of the world, and it should be her way. But Rita's heart was a poor +place for such thoughts to thrive, and when she arose next morning, +after a sleepless night of mingled joy and sorrow, she was almost as +unhappy as she had been the previous morning. She spent several days and +nights alternating between two opinions; but finally, after repeated +conversations with Miss Tousy, whose opinions you already know, and +after meditating upon Sukey's endeavor to entrap two men, she arrived at +two opposing conclusions. First, it was her duty to give Dic up; and +second, she would do nothing of the sort. That was the first, and I +believe the only selfish resolve that ever established itself in the +girl's heart with her full knowledge and consent. But the motive behind +it was overpowering. She shut her lips and said she "didn't care," and +once having definitely settled the question, she dismissed it, feeling +that she was very sinful, but also very happy. + +Dic, of course, soon sought Billy Little, the ever ready receptacle of +his joys and sorrows. + +No man loved the words, "I told you so," more dearly than Little, and +when Dic entered the store he was greeted with that irritating sentence +before he had spoken a word. + +"You told me what?" asked Dic, pretending not to understand. + +"Come, come," returned Billy, joyously, "I see it in your face. You know +what I mean. Don't try to appear more thick-headed than you are. Oh, +perhaps you are troubled with false modesty, and wish to hide the light +of a keen perception. Let it shine, Dic, let it shine. Hide it not. +Avoid the bushel." + +Dic laughed and said: "Well, you were right; she did forgive me. Now +please don't continue to point out your superior wisdom. I see it +without your help. Get thee a bushel, Billy Little, lest you shine too +brightly." + +"No insolence, young man, no insolence," retorted Billy, with a face +grave and serious, save for a joyful smile in his eyes. + +"Close the store door, Billy Little," said Dic, after a few minutes of +conversation, "and come back to the room. I want to talk to you." + +"The conceit of some people!" replied the happy merchant. "So you would +have me close my emporium for the sake of your small affairs?" + +"Yes," responded Dic. + +"Well, nothing wins like self-conceit," answered Billy. "Here's the key. +Lock the front door, and I'll be with you when I fold this bolt of India +silk." + +Dic locked the door, Billy finished folding the India silk--a bolt of +two-bit muslin,--and the friends went into the back room. + +How sweet it is to prepare one's self deliberately for good news! Billy, +in a glow of joy, lighted his pipe, moved his chair close to the +fireplace, for the day was cold, and gave the word of command--"Go +ahead!" + +Dic told him all that had happened in Miss Tousy's parlor, omitting, of +course, to mention the blank hour, and added: "I had a letter from Rita +this morning, and she feels as I do, that we are very cruel; but she +says she would rather be selfish and happy than unselfish and miserable, +which, as you know, is not at all true. She couldn't be selfish if she +were to try." + +"Good little brain in that little head," exclaimed Billy. "There never +was a better. But, as you say, she's wrong in charging herself with +selfishness. I believe she has more common sense, more virtue, more +tenderness, gentleness, beauty, and unselfishness than any other girl in +the world." + +Dic laughed, very much pleased with his friend's comments upon Rita. "I +believe you are in love with her yourself." + +The shaft unintentionally struck centre and Billy's scalp blushed as he +haltingly remarked, "Well, I suppose you're right." Then after a long +pause--"Maxwelton's braes, um, um, um." Another long pause ensued, +during which Billy knocked the ashes from his pipe against the wall of +the fireplace, poked the back-log, and threw on two or three large +pieces of wood. + +"I don't mind telling you," he said, chuckling with laughter, "that I +was almost in love with her at one time. She was so perfect--had the +same name, face, and disposition of--of another that--Jove! I was +terribly jealous of you." + +"Nonsense," answered Dic, with a great pleased laugh. + +"Of course it was nonsense. I knew it then and know it now; but when, +let me ask you, had nonsense or any other kind of sense anything to do +with a man falling in love?" + +"I think it the most sensible thing a man can do," answered Dic, out of +the fulness of his cup of youth. + +"Has it made you happy?" + +"Yes, and no." + +"But mostly no?" responded the cynic. + +"Yes, Billy Little, so far it's been mostly no; but the time will come +when I will be very happy because of it." + +"Not if you can help it. We will see how it turns out in the end." + +"Billy Little, you are the greatest croaker I ever knew," observed Dic, +testily. + +"It is better to croak early than to sing too soon. But what do you +want?" + +"I want to know again what I shall do about Sukey since this new change +in Rita. When I thought Rita was lost to me, I fear I permitted Sukey to +believe I would, you know, comply with her wishes; but now I can't, and +I don't know how to tell her about it. I said nothing, but my silence +almost committed me." + +After a moment spent in thought, Billy answered: "Frederick the Great +used to say, 'In default of unanswerable arguments it is better to +express one's self laconically and not go beating about the bush.' Go +tell her." + +"That's easier to advise than to do," retorted Dic. "She will cry, +and--" + +"Yes, I know; if it were as easy to do as it is to advise, this would be +a busy world. She will cry, and a woman's tears hurt the right sort of +man. But bless my soul, Dic, why don't you settle your own affairs? I'm +tired of it all. It's getting to trouble me as much as it troubles you." +Billy paused, gazing into the fire, and dropped into a half-revery. "I +can see the poor little dimpler weeping and grieving. I can hear her +sobs and feel her heartaches. She is not good; but the fault is not +hers, and I wish I might bear her pain and suffer in her stead. I +believe it hurts me more to see others suffer than to suffer myself. I +wish I might bear every one's suffering and die on a modern Calvary. +What a glorious thought that is, Dic--the Master's vicarious atonement! +Even if the story be nothing but a fable, as some men claim, the thought +is a glorious one, and the fate--ah, the fate--but such a fate is only +for God. If I can't help the suffering of the world, I wish I might live +in the midst of Sahara, where I could not hear of human pain. It hurts +me, Dic. Indeed it does. And this poor little dimpler--I'm sorry, I'm +sorry." + +"Ah, Billy Little, think of my sorrow," said Dic. + +"It's a question whether we should shrink from our troubles or face +them," continued Little; "but in your case I should choose the +shrinking, and write to the poor, pathetic little dimpler. Poor thing! +Her days of dimpling are over. If you knew that you had led her astray, +your duty, I believe, would be clear; but there is the 'if' that gives +us serious pause and makes cowards of us both. Write to her, Dic. You +are too great a coward to face her, and I'm not brave enough even to +advise it." + +Dic wrote to Sukey, and avoided the pain of facing her, but not the pain +of knowing that she suffered. His letter brought an answer from Sukey +that was harder to bear than reproaches. + +Within two or three days Sukey wrote to Rita, whom she knew to be the +cause of Dic's desertion. The letter to Rita, like the one to Dic, +contained no word of reproach. "I do not blame you for keeping him," she +said in closing. "He has always belonged to you. I hope you will be +happy and not trouble yourselves about me. No one knows about this +terrible affair, Rita, but you and Dic, and I hope you will tell nobody. +Especially, please, please, don't tell Tom. This is the only request I +make: don't let Tom know anything about it. I want to confess, Rita, +that I have been very wicked, and that Dic is not to blame. I feel it my +duty to tell you this, so that you may not blame him. I have brought +trouble to you both, and it is as little as I should do to tell you the +truth. The fault was mine. I gave him a love powder. But I loved him." + +Sukey's letter came one morning four or five days before Christmas. Rita +wept all day over it, and at night it helped her in taking a step that +settled all the momentous questions touching Dic and herself. + +On the same fateful day Mr. Bays and Tom came home together in the +middle of the afternoon. That unwonted event was, in itself, alarming. +Rita was reading near the window, and her mother was knitting before the +fire. When our Toms, father and son, entered the room, trouble was +plainly visible upon their faces. Tom senior threw his cap and great fur +coat on the bed, while De Triflin' leaned against the mantel-shelf. +Drawing a chair to the fire, Tom the elder said:-- + +"Well, Margarita, I guess we're ruined--Jim and me and Tom--all of us. I +see no earthly way out of it." + +"What's the matter?" asked Madam Jeffreys, folding her knitting and +placing it in her lap with great deliberation. Rita dropped her book, +and went over to her father. + +"Williams, I suppose?" queried Madam Jeffreys. + +"Yes; he has had orders from home to collect the money we owe the house, +or else to take the store, the farm, our household furniture, +everything, at once. Williams leaves for home Christmas Day, and +everything must be settled before then. He gives us till to-morrow noon +to raise the money. But that is not the worst," continued Mr. Bays, +nervously, rising and turning his back to the fire, "Tom has--has +overdrawn his account more than a thousand dollars in Williams's office. +Williams don't call it 'overdrawn.' He calls it embezzlement, theft. Tom +and me went to Judge Blackford and told him just how the money was +taken. The Judge says Williams is right about it; it is embezzlement, +and Williams says the firm insists on prosecuting Tom and sending him to +the penitentiary if the money is not replaced. God only knows what we +are to do, Margarita. The farm is mortgaged for its full value, and so +far as I can see we are ruined, ruined." Tears began to flow over his +cheeks, and Rita, drawing his face down to hers, stood on tiptoe and +tried to kiss the tears away. + +"Let me go to see Billy Little," she said in desperation. "He will lend +us the money; I know he will." + +"Like h--he will," cried gentle Tom. "Dic asked him to loan me enough +money to pay my overdraft--said he would go on the note--but he refused +point blank; said the twenty-three hundred dollars he loaned father and +Uncle Jim Fisher was all the money he had. The miserly old curmudgeon!" + +Mrs. Bays went weeping to Tom's side. "Poor Tom, my dear, dear son," she +whimpered, trying to embrace him. + +Dear son roughly repulsed her, saying: "There's no need to go outside of +our family for help. If Rita wasn't the most selfish, ungrateful fool +alive, she'd settle all our troubles by one word." + +"Would you have me sell myself, Tom?" asked the ungrateful sister. + +"Of course I would!! sell yourself!! rot!! You'd be getting a mighty +good price. There's lots better-looking girls 'en you would jump at the +chance. Sell yourself? Ain't Williams a fine gentleman? Where's another +like him? Ain't he rich? Ain't he everything a girl could want in a +man--everything but a green country clodhopper?" + +"All that may be true, Tom, but I can't marry him. I can't," returned +Rita, weeping and sobbing in her father's arms. + +"Can't you, Rita?" asked Mr. Bays. "All that Tom says about him is true, +every word. Williams is good enough for any girl in the world but you. +No man is that. You would soon forget Dic." + +"No, no, father, never, never, in all my life." + +"And you would soon learn to like Williams," continued the distracted +father. "Please, Rita, try to do this and save me and Tom." + +"She shall do it," cried Madam Jeffreys, taking courage from the +knowledge that at last her husband was her ally. She went to Rita and +pulled her from her father's arms. "She shall do it or go into the +street this very night, never to enter my house again. I'll never speak +to her again if she don't. It will pain me to treat my own flesh and +blood so harshly, but it is my duty--my duty. I have toiled and suffered +and endured for her sake all my life, and it will almost kill me to turn +against her now; but if she don't save her father and brother, I surely +will. God tells me it is my duty. I do not care for myself. I have eaten +husks all my life, ever since I got married, and I can die eating them; +but for the sake of my dear husband and my dear son who bears his own +father's name, it is my duty, God tells me it is my duty to spurn her. +It is but duty and justice; and justice to all is my motto. It was my +father's motto." She was a wordy orator, but her vocabulary was +limited; and after several repetitions of the foregoing sentiments, she +turned from oratory to anatomy. "Oh, my heart," she cried, placing her +hand upon her breast, "I believe I am about to die." + +She sank gasping into the chair, from which she had risen to hurl her +Philippic at Rita's head, and by sheer force of her indomitable will +caused a most alarming pallor to overspread her face. Rita ran for the +camphor, Mr. Bays fetched the whiskey, and under these restoratives +Madam Jeffreys so far recovered that her husband and son were able to +remove her from the chair to the bed. Rita, in tribulation and tears, +sat upon the bedside, chafing her mother's hands and doing all in her +power to relieve the sufferer. + +"Don't touch me, ungrateful child," cried Mrs. Margarita, "don't touch +me! If you won't save your father and brother from ruin when you can, +you are not fit to touch your mother. I am dying now," she continued, +gasping for breath. "Because of your cruelty and ingratitude, the blow +has been more than God, in His infinite mercy, has given me strength to +endure. When I am gone, you will remember about this. I forgive you; I +forgive you." Sigh followed sigh, and Rita feared she had killed her +parent. + +"Oh, mother," she sobbed, "I will do what you wish. Ah, no, I can't. I +can't do it. Don't ask me." + +"Beg her, father, beg her," whispered Mrs. Bays to her spouse when she +saw that Rita was wavering. Bays hesitated; but a look from the bed +brought him to a proper condition of obedience:-- + +"Rita, won't you save your father and brother?" he asked, taking his +daughter's hands in his own. "We are all ruined and disgraced and lost +forever if you do not. Rita, I beg you to do this for my sake." + +The father's appeal she could not withstand. She covered her face with +her hands; then, suddenly drawing herself upright and drying her tears, +she said in a low voice, "I will." + +Those two little words changed the world for father and son from +darkness to light. They seemed also to possess wonderful curative powers +for heart trouble, for within three minutes they snatched my Lady +Jeffreys from the jaws of death and placed her upright in the bed. +Within another minute she was on her feet, well and hearty as ever, +busily engaged evolving a plan for immediate action. + +"Write to Williams at once," she said to Rita, "asking him to call this +evening. Tell him you want to talk to him about your father's affairs." + +Rita again hesitated, but she had given her word, and accordingly +wrote:-- + + + "MR. WILLIAMS: If not otherwise engaged, will you please call this + evening. I am in great trouble about my father and Tom, and wish to + talk to you concerning their affairs. + + "RITA." + + +Tom delivered the note, which threw Williams into a state of ecstasy +bordering on intoxication. + +I beg you to pause and consider this girl's piteous condition. Never in +all the eighteen years of her life had she unnecessarily given pain to a +human heart. A tender, gentle strength, love for all who were near her, +fidelity to truth, and purity without the blemish of even an impure +thought, had gone to make up the sum of her existence. As a reward for +all these virtues she was now called upon to bear the burden of an +unspeakable anguish. What keener joy could she know than that which had +come to her through her love for Dic? What agony more poignant could she +suffer than the loss of him? But, putting Dic aside, what calamity +could so blacken the future for her, or for any pure girl, as marriage +with a man she loathed? We often speak of these tragedies regretfully +and carelessly; but imagine yourself in her position, and you will pity +this poor girl of mine, who was about to be sold to the man whom she +despised--and who, worst of all, loved her. Madame Pompadour says in her +memoirs, "I was married to one whom I did not love, and a misfortune +still greater was that he loved me." That condition must be the acme of +a woman's suffering. + +Williams knocked at Rita's door early in the evening, and was admitted +to the front parlor by the girl herself. She took a chair and asked him +to be seated. Then a long, awkward silence ensued, which was broken by +Williams:-- + +"You said you wished to see me. Is there any way in which I can serve +you?" + +"Yes," she murmured, speaking with difficulty. "My father and Tom are in +trouble, and I wanted to ask you if anything could be done to--to--" she +ceased speaking, and in a moment Williams said:-- + +"I have held the house off for four or five months, and I cannot induce +them to wait longer. Their letters are imperative. I wish I had brought +them." + +"Then nothing can save them?" asked Rita. The words almost choked her, +because she knew the response they would elicit. She was asking him to +ask her to marry him. + +"Rita, there is one thing might save them," replied Roger of the craven +heart. "You know what that is. I have spoken of it so often I am almost +ashamed to speak again." Well he might be. + +"Well, what is it? Go on," said Rita, without a sign of faltering. She +wanted to end the agony as soon as possible. + +"If you will marry me, Rita--you know how dearly I love you; I need not +tell you of that. Were you not so sure of my love, I might stand better +with you. You see, if you will marry me my father could not, in decency, +prosecute Tom or ruin your father. He would be compelled to protect them +both, being in the family, you know." + +"If you will release Tom and save my father from ruin I will ... will +do ... as ... you ... wish," answered the girl. Cold and clear were the +words which closed this bargain, and cold as ice was the heart that sold +itself. + +Williams stepped quickly to her side, exclaiming delightedly, "Rita, +Rita, is it really true at last?" + +He attempted to kiss her, but she held up her hand warningly. + +"No," she said, "not till I am your wife. Then I must submit. Till then +I belong to myself." + +"I have waited a long time," answered this patient suitor, "and I can +wait a little longer. When shall we be married?" + +"Fix the time yourself," she replied. + +"I am to leave Christmas morning by the Napoleon stage for home, and if +you wish we may be married Christmas Eve. That will give you four days +for preparation." + +"As you wish," was the response. + +"I know, Rita, you do not love me," said Williams, tenderly. + +"You surely do," she interrupted. + +"But I also know," he continued, "that I can win your love when you are +my wife. I know it, or I would not ask you to marry me. I would not +accept your hand if I were not sure that I would soon possess your +heart. I will be so loving and tender and your life will be so +perfect--so different from anything you have ever known--that you will +soon be glad you gave yourself to me. It will not be long, Rita, not +long." + +"Perhaps you are right," she answered with her lips; but in her heart +this girl, who was all tenderness and love, prayed God to strike him +dead before Christmas Eve should come. + +Williams again took his chair, but Rita said, "I have given you my +promise. I--I am--I fear I am ill. Please excuse me for the rest of the +evening and--and leave me, I beg you." + +Williams took his leave, and Rita went into the sitting room, where +father, mother, and Tom were waiting for the verdict. + +"You are saved," said Rita, as if she were announcing dinner. + +"My daughter! my own dear child! God will bless you!" exclaimed the +tender mother, hurrying to embrace the cause of her joy. + +"Don't touch me!" said Rita. "I--I--God help me! I--I fear--I--hate +you." She turned to the stairway and went to her own room. For hours she +sat by the window, gazing into the street, but toward morning she +lighted a candle and told Dic the whole piteous story in a dozen pages +of anguish and love. + + * * * * * + +After receiving Sukey's letter, Dic left home for a few days to engage +horses to take east with him in the spring. He did not return until late +in the afternoon of the day before Christmas. + +On the morning of that day--the day before Christmas--Jasper Yates, +Sukey's father, came to Billy Little's store in great agitation. Tom +Bays had been there the day before and had imparted to Billy the news of +Rita's forthcoming wedding. She had supposed that Dic would tell him and +had not written; but Dic was away from home and had not received her +letter. + +I cannot describe to you the overpowering grief this announcement +brought to the tender bachelor heart. It stunned him, crushed him, +almost killed him; but he tried to bear up manfully under the weight of +his grief. He tried, ah, so hard, not to show his suffering, and +Maxwelton's braes, was sung all day and was played nearly all night; but +the time had come to Billy when even music could not soothe him. There +was a dry, hard anguish at his heart that all the music of heaven or of +earth could not soften. Late in the night he shut his piano in disgust +and sat before the fire during the long black hours without even the +comfort of a tear. + +When Tom imparted the intelligence of Rita's wedding, he also asked +Billy for a loan of four hundred dollars. As an inducement, he explained +that he had forged the name of Mr. Wallace to a note calling for that +sum, and had negotiated the note at an Indianapolis bank. Rita's +marriage would settle the Williams theft, but the matter of the forgery +called for immediate adjustment in cash. Billy refused the loan; but he +gave Tom fifty dollars and advised him to leave the state. + +"If you don't go," said Billy, savagely, "you will be sent to the +penitentiary. Rita can't marry every one you have stolen from. What did +you do with the money you stole from me--Dic's money? Tell me, or I'll +call an officer at once. I'll arrest you myself and commit you. I'm a +justice of the peace. Now confess, you miserable thief." + +Tom turned pale, and, seeing that Billy was in dreadful earnest, began +to cry: "There was five of us in that job," he whispered, "and, Mr. +Little, I never got none of the money. Con Gagen and Mike Doles got it +all. I give them the sacks to keep for a while after I left the store. +They promised to divide, but they run away soon afterwards, and of +course we others were afeared to peach. I didn't know you knowed it. Con +Gagen put me up to it." + +"Well, I do know it. I recognized you when you climbed out the window, +and did not shoot you because you were Rita's brother. I said nothing +of the robbery for the same reason, but I made a mistake. Leave my +store. Get out of the state at once. If you are here Christmas Day, I'll +send you where you belong." + +Tom took the fifty dollars and the advice; and the next day--the day +before Christmas, the day set for Rita's wedding--Sukey's father entered +Billy's store, as I have already told you, in great agitation. + +After Yates had talked to Billy for three or four minutes, the latter +hurriedly closed the store door, donned the Brummel coat, and went +across the road to the inn where the Indianapolis coach was waiting, and +took his place. + +At six o'clock that evening Dic arrived at Billy Little's store from his +southern expedition. Finding the store door locked, he got the key from +the landlord of the inn, in whose charge Billy had left it, went to the +post-office, and rejoiced to find a letter from Rita. He eagerly opened +it--and rode home more dead than alive. Rita's wedding would take place +that night at eight o'clock. The thing was hopeless. He showed the +letter to his mother, and asked that he might be left alone with his +sorrow. Mrs. Bright kissed him and retired to her bed in the adjoining +room, leaving Dic sitting upon the hearth log beside the fire. + +Dic did not blame Rita. He loved her more dearly than ever before, if +that were possible, because she was capable of making the awful +sacrifice. He well knew what she would suffer. The thought of her +anguish drowned the pain he felt on his own account, and his suffering +for her sake seemed more than he could bear. Billy Little, he supposed, +had gone to the wedding, and for the first time in Dic's life he was +angry with that steadfast friend. Dic knew that the sudden plunge from +joy to anguish had brought a benumbing shock, and while he sat beside +the fire he realized that his suffering had only begun--that his real +anguish would come with the keener consciousness of reaction. + +At four o'clock that same afternoon Billy was seated in Rita's parlor, +whispering to her. "My dear girl, I bring you good news. You can't save +Tom. He forged Wallace's name to a note for four hundred dollars, and +passed it at the bank six weeks ago. He wanted to borrow the money from +me to pay the note, but I did not have it. I gave him fifty dollars, and +he has run away--left the state for no one knows where. He carried off +two of Yates's horses, and, best of all, he carried off Sukey. All +reasons for sacrificing yourself to this man Williams are now removed, +save only your father's debt. That, Fisher tells me, has been renewed +for sixty days, and at the end of that time your father and Fisher will +again have it to face. You could not save them, Rita, if you were to +marry half the men in Boston. Even if this debt were paid--cancelled +--instead of renewed, your father would soon be as badly +off as ever. A bank couldn't keep him in business, Rita. Every one he +deals with robs and cheats him. He's a good man, Rita, kind, honest, and +hard working, but he is fit only to farm. I hate to say it, but in many +respects your father is a great fool, very much like Tom. It is easier +to save ten knaves than one fool. A leopard is a leopard; a nigger is a +nigger. God can change the spots of the one and the color of the other, +but I'm blessed if I believe even God can unmake a fool. Now my dear +girl, don't throw away your happiness for life in a hopeless effort to +save your father from financial ruin." + +"But I have given my word, Billy Little," replied the girl, to whom a +promise was a sacred thing. "I believe my father and mother would die if +I were to withdraw. I must go on, I must; it is my doom. It is only +three hours--oh, my God! have mercy on me--" and she broke down, +weeping piteously. Soon she continued: "The guests are all invited, and +oh, I can't escape, I can't! I have given my word; I am lost. Thank you, +dear friend, thank you, for your effort to help me; but it is too late, +too late!" + +"No, it is not too late," continued Billy; "but in three hours it will +be too late, and you will curse yourself because you did not listen to +me." + +"I know I shall; I know it only too well," replied the weeping girl. "I +will not ask you to remain for the--the tragedy." + +"I would not witness it," cried Billy, "for all the gold in the world! +When I'm gone, Rita, remember what I've said. Do not wait until it is +too late, but come with me; come now with me, Rita, and let the +consequences be what they will. They cannot be so evil as those which +will follow your marriage. You do not know. You do not understand. Come +with me, girl, come with me. Do not hesitate. When I have left you, it +will be too late, too late. God only can help you; and if you walk +open-eyed into this trouble, He will _not_ help you. He helps those who +help themselves." + +"No, Billy Little, no; I cannot go with you. I have given my word. I +have cast the die." + +With these words Billy arose, took up his hat, stick, and gloves, went +out into the hall, and opened the front door to go. + +"When I'm gone, Rita, remember what I have said and what I'm about to +say, and even though the minister be standing before you, until you have +spoken the fatal words, it will not be too late. You are an innocent +girl, ignorant of many things in life. Still, every girl, if she but +stops to think, has innate knowledge of much that she is supposed not to +know. When I'm gone, Rita, _think_, girl, _think_, think of this night; +this night after the ceremony, when all the guests have gone and you +are alone with him. Kill yourself, Rita, if you will, if there is no +other way out of it--kill yourself, but don't marry that man. For the +sake of God's love, don't marry him. Death will be sweet compared to +that which you will suffer if you do. Good-by, Rita. Think of this +night, girl; think of this night." + +"Good-by, Billy Little, good-by," cried the girl, while tears streamed +over her cheeks. As she closed the door behind him she covered her face +with her hands and moaned: "I cannot marry him. How can I kill myself? +How can I escape?" + +Meanwhile Madam Jeffreys had donned her black silk dress, made expressly +for the occasion, and was a very busy, happy woman indeed. She did not +know that Tom had run away, but was expecting him home from Blue by the +late stage, which would arrive about seven o'clock. + +Billy left for home on the five o'clock stage, but before he left he had +a talk with Rita's father. + +Soon after Billy's departure, Miss Tousy and a few young lady friends +came to assist at the bride's toilet. It was a doleful party of +bridesmaids in Rita's room, you may be sure; but by seven o'clock she +was dressed. When the task was finished, she said to her friends:-- + +"I am very tired. I have an hour before the ceremony, and I should like +to sit alone by the window in the dark to rest and think. Please leave +me to myself. I will lock the door, and, Miss Tousy, please allow no one +to disturb me." + +"No one shall disturb you, my dear," answered Miss Tousy, weeping as she +kissed her. Then the young ladies left the room, and Rita locked the +door. + +Ten minutes later Mr. Bays entered from Tom's room, which was +immediately back of Rita's. A stairway descended from Tom's room to the +back yard. + +[Illustration: "'HERE,' REPLIED THE GIRL."] + +Mr. Bays kissed Rita, and hastily whispered: "My great-coat, cap, and +gloves are on Tom's bed. Buck is saddled in the stable. Don't ever let +your mother know I did this. Good-by. I would rather die than see you +marry this man and lose Dic. Don't let your mother know," and he hurried +from the room. + +Rita went hurriedly into Tom's room and put on the great-coat, made of +coonskins, a pair of squirrel-skin gloves, and a heavy beaver cap with +curtains that fell almost to her shoulders. She also drew over her shoes +a pair of heavy woollen stockings; and thus arrayed, she ran down the +stairway to the back yard. Flurrying to the stable, she led out "Old +Buck," Mr. Bays's riding horse, and galloped forth in the dark, cold +night for a twenty-six mile ride to Billy Little. + +Soon after Rita's departure the guests began to assemble. At ten minutes +before eight came Williams. Upon his arrival, Mrs. Bays insisted that +Rita should be called, so she and Miss Tousy went to Rita's door and +knocked. The knock was repeated; still no answer. Then Mrs. Bays +determined to enter Rita's room through Tom's,--and I will draw a veil +over the scene of consternation, confusion, and rage that ensued. + + * * * * * + +Near the hour of two o'clock in the morning another scene of this drama +was enacted, twenty-six miles away. Billy Little was roused from his +dreams--black nightmares they had been--by a knocking on his store door, +and when he sat up in bed to listen, he heard Rita's voice calling:-- + +"Billy Little, let me in." + +Billy ran to unlock the front door, crying: "Come in, come in, God bless +my soul, come in. Maxwelton's braes _are_ bonny, bonny, bonny. Tell me, +are you alone?" + +"Yes, Billy, I'm alone, and I fear they will follow me. Hide me +somewhere. But you'll freeze without your coat. Go and--" + +"Bless me, I haven't my coat and waistcoat on. Excuse me; +excuse--Maxwelton's--I'll be out immediately." And the little old fellow +scampered to his bedroom to complete his toilet. Then he lighted a +candle, placed wood on the fire, and called Rita back to his sanctum +sanctorum. She was very cold; but a spoonful of whiskey, prescribed by +Dr. Little, with a drop of water and a pinch of sugar, together with a +bit of cheese and a biscuit from the store, and the great crackling fire +on the hearth, soon brought warmth to her heart and color to her cheeks. + +"What are you going to do with me now you've got me? They will come here +first to find me," she asked, laughing nervously. + +"We'll go to Dic," said Billy, after a moment's meditation. "We'll go to +Dic as soon as you are rested." + +"Oh, Billy Little, I--I can't go to him. You know I'm not--not--you +know." + +"Not married? Is that what you mean?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm mighty thankful you are not. Dic's mother is with him. It will be +all perfectly proper. But never mind; I have another idea. I'll think it +over as we ride." + +After Rita had rested, Billy donned the Beau Brummel coat and saddled +his horse, and the pair started up Blue to awaken Dic. He needed no +awakening, for he was sitting where we left him, on the hearth, gazing +into a bed of embers. + +When our runaway couple reached Dic's house, Billy hitched his horse, +told Rita to knock at the front door, and took her horse to the stable. + +When Dic heard the knock at that strange hour of the night, he +called:-- + +"Who's there?" + +"Rita." + +Dic began to fear his troubles had affected his mind; but when he heard +a voice unmistakably hers calling, "Please let me in; I have brought you +a Christmas gift," he knew that he was sane, and that either Rita or her +wraith was at the door. When she entered, clad in her wedding gown, +coonskin coat and beaver cap, he again began to doubt his senses and +stood in wonder, looking at her. + +"Aren't you glad to see me, Dic?" she asked, laughing. Still he did not +respond, and she continued, "I have ridden all night to bring you a +Christmas gift." + +"A Christmas gift?" he repeated, hardly conscious of the words he spoke, +so great had been the shock of his awakening from a dream of pain to a +reality of bliss. "Where--where is it?" + +"Here," replied the girl, throwing off the great-coat and pressing her +hands upon her bosom to indicate herself. Then Dic, in a flood of +perceptive light and returning consciousness, caught the priceless +Christmas gift to his heart without further question. + +In a moment Billy Little entered the door that Rita had closed. + +"Here, here, break away," cried Billy, taking Rita and Dic each by the +right hand. As he did so Dic's mother entered from the adjoining room, +and Billy greeted her with "Howdy," but was too busy to make +explanations. + +"Now face me," said that little gentleman, speaking in tones of command +to Rita and Dic. + +"Clasp your right hands." The hands were clasped. "Now listen to me. +Diccon Bright, do you take this woman whom you hold by the hand to be +your wedded wife?" + +Dic's faculties again began to wane, and he did not answer at once. + +"The answer is, 'I do,' you stupid," cried Billy, and Dic said, "I do." + +"Do you, Rita Fisher Bays,--Margarita Fisher Bays,--take this man whom +you hold by the right hand to be your husband?" + +Rita's faculties were in perfect condition and very alert, so she +answered quickly, "I do." + +"Then," continued our worthy justice of the peace, "by virtue of +authority vested in me by the laws of the state of Indiana, I pronounce +you husband and wife. I kiss the bride." + +After kissing Rita, and shaking hands with Dic and Mrs. Bright, Billy +hurried out through the door, and the new-made husband and wife watched +him as he mounted and rode away. He was singing--not humming, but +singing--at his topmost pitch, "Maxwelton's braes are bonny, where early +falls the dew." He had never before been known to complete the stanza. +His voice could be heard after he had passed out of sight into the +forest, and just as the sun peeped from the east, turning the frost dust +to glittering diamonds and the snow-clad forest to a paradise in white, +the song lost itself among the trees, and Dic, closing the door, led +Rita to his hearth log. + + * * * * * + +Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall + +By CHARLES MAJOR + +_Author of "When Knighthood Was in Flower," etc._ + +With eight full-page illustrations by HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +"Dorothy Vernon is an Elizabethan maid, but a living, loving, lovable +girl.... The lover of accuracy of history in fiction may rest contented +with the story; but he will probably care little for that once he has +been caught by the spirit and freshness of the romance."--_The Mail and +Express._ + +"Dorothy is a splendid creation, a superb creature of brains, beauty, +force, capacity, and passion, a riot of energy, love, and red blood. She +is the fairest, fiercest, strongest, tenderest heroine that ever woke up +a jaded novel reader and made him realize that life will be worth living +so long as the writers of fiction create her like.... The story has +brains, 'go,' virility, gumption, and originality."--_The Boston +Transcript._ + +"Dorothy is a fascinating character, whose womanly whims and cunning +ways in dealing with her manly, honest lover and her wrathful father are +cleverly portrayed. The interest is maintained to the end. Some might +call Dorothy a vixen, but she is of that rare and ravishing kind who +have tried (and satisfied) men's souls from the days of Mother Eve to +the present time."--_The New York Herald._ + +"A romance of much delicacy, variety, strength, and grace, in which are +revealed the history of four lovers who by their purely human attributes +are distinct types."--_Evening Journal News_, Evansville. + +"As a study of woman, the incomprehensible, yet thoroughly lovable, +Dorothy Vernon clearly leads all recent attempts in fiction. Dorothy is +a wonderful creature."--_Columbus Evening Dispatch._ + +"Dorothy is a feminine whirlwind, very attractive to her audience if +somewhat disconcerting to her victims, and the story, even in these days +when romance has become a drug, makes good reading."--_New York Life._ + + * * * * * + +The Bears of Blue River + +By CHARLES MAJOR + +_Author of "Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall," etc._ + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. B. FROST AND OTHERS + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +"The book is thoroughly healthy, and it is infused through and through +with the breath of the forests. It is a delightful book to +read."--_Charleston Sun-News._ + +"The book is especially adapted to boys, but the well-rounded style of +the author, combined with a little natural history, makes it at once +interesting and instructive to young and old alike."--_Plymouth Weekly._ + +"This is not a mere 'boy's book'; it is a work of art, appealing to the +most cultured reader."--_Christian World._ + +"Though the story may have been written for boys, it is even better fun +for older people and sportsmen, as a well-written, spirited book of so +strenuous a life."--_Literary World._ + + * * * * * + +The Mettle of the Pasture + +By JAMES LANE ALLEN + +Author of "The Choir Invisible," "A Kentucky Cardinal," +etc., etc. + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +"'The Mettle of the Pasture' contains more characters and a greater +variety of them, it has more versatility, more light and shade, more +humor, than any of his previous books. The story, too, is wider in scope +and the central tragedy draws irresistibly to it.... + +"'The Mettle of the Pasture' is a novel of greatness; it is so far Mr. +Allen's masterpiece; a work of beauty and finished art. There can be no +question of its supreme place in our literature; there can be no doubt +of its wide acceptance and acceptability. More than any of his books it +is destined to an enviable popularity. It does not take extraordinary +prescience to predict an extraordinary circulation for it." + --JAMES MACARTHUR in a review in the August _Reader_. + +"It may be that 'The Mettle of the Pasture' will live and become a part +of our literature; it certainly will live far beyond the allotted term +of present-day fiction. Our principal concern is that it is a notable +novel, that it ranks high in the entire range of American and English +fiction, and that it is worth the reading, the re-reading, and the +continuous appreciation of those who care for modern literature at its +best."--_The Boston Transcript._ + +"In 'The Mettle of the Pasture' Mr. Allen has reached the high-water +mark thus far of his genius as a novelist. The beauty of his literary +style, the picturesque quality of his description, the vitality, +fulness, and strength of his artistic powers never showed to better +advantage.... Its reader is fascinated by the picturesque descriptions, +the humor, the clear insight, and the absolute interest of his +creations."--_The Brooklyn Eagle._ + + * * * * * + +The Call of the Wild + +By JACK LONDON + +Author of "The Children of the Frost," etc., etc. + +Illustrated Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +All those who have read it believe that JACK LONDON'S new story, "The +Call of the Wild," will prove one of the half-dozen memorable books of +1903. This story takes hold of the universal things in human and animal +nature; it is one of those strong, thrilling, brilliant things which are +better worth reading the second time than the first. Entertaining +stories we have in plenty; but this is something more--it is a piece of +literature. At the same time it is an unforgettable picture of the whole +wild, thrilling, desperate, vigorous, primeval life of the Klondike +regions in the years after the gold fever set in. It ranks beside the +best things of its kind in English literature. + +The tale itself has for its hero a superb dog named Buck, a cross +between a St. Bernard and a Scotch shepherd. Buck is stolen from his +home in Southern California, where Judge Miller and his family have +petted him, taken to the Klondike, and put to work drawing sledges. +First he has to be broken in, to learn "the law of club and fang." His +splendid blood comes out through the suffering and abuse, the starvation +and the unremitting toil, the hardship and the fighting and the bitter +cold. He wins his way to the mastership of his team. He becomes the best +sledge dog in Alaska. And all the while there is coming out in him "the +dominant primordial beast." + +But meantime, all through the story, the interest is almost as much in +the human beings who own Buck, or who drive him, or who come in contact +with him or his masters in some way or other, as in the dog himself. He +is merely the central figure in an extraordinarily graphic and +impressive picture of life. + +In none of his previous stories has Mr. LONDON achieved so strong a grip +on his theme. In none of them has he allowed his theme so strongly to +grip him. He has increased greatly in his power to tell a story. The +first strong note in the book is the coming out of the dog's good blood +through infinite hardship; the last how he finally obeyed "the call of +the wild" after his last and best friend, Thornton, was killed by the +Indians. + +It has been very greatly praised during its serial run, Mr. MABIE +writing in _The Outlook_ of "its power and its unusual theme.... This +remarkable story, full of incident and of striking descriptions of life +and landscape in the far north, contains a deep truth which is embedded +in the narrative and is all the more effective because it is never +obtruded." + + * * * * * + +People of the Whirlpool + +From the Experience Book of a Commuter's Wife + +_By the Author of +"The Garden of a Commuter's Wife"_ + +With Eight Full-page Illustrations + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + + +"The book is in every way a worthy companion to its very popular +predecessor."--_The Churchman._ + +"Altogether the story is fascinating, holding the attention with its +charm of narrative and its pictures of real life."--_Grand Rapids +Herald._ + +"The whole book is delicious, with its wise and kindly humor, its just +perspections of the true values of things, its clever pen pictures of +people and customs, and its healthy optimism for the great world in +general."--_Philadelphia Telegraph._ + + * * * * * + +Anne Carmel + +By GWENDOLEN OVERTON + +Author of "The Heritage of Unrest" + +With Illustrations by ARTHUR I. KELLER + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +"A novel of uncommon beauty and depth ... in every way an unusual +book."--_Louisville Times._ + +"One of the few very important books of the year."--_The Sun_, New York. + +"Is so far above the general run of the fiction of to-day as to be +strongly attractive, just because of this contrast, but it is, for +itself, something to move heart and brain to quick action and deep +admiration."--_Nashville American._ + + * * * * * + +The Heart of Rome + +By F. MARION CRAWFORD + +Author of "Saracinesca," "In the Palace of the King," +"Cecilia," "Ave Roma Immortalis," etc. + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +This striking title is perfectly descriptive of the book. Mr. Crawford, +who has studied Rome in all its phases and has been writing novels and +serious books about it for twenty years, has undertaken to put "the +heart of Rome" into his latest novel. Many authors have undertaken to do +this, but in almost every case the result, however it may have been +praised for various features, has been adjudged in the end +unsatisfactory. The author of "Saracinesca" has here written his +strongest and best work; a novel in which, around an absorbing love +story, are described the manifold elements that go to make up the whole +of the Eternal City as it exists at the present time. It is said by +those who have read the story that it will stand as a picture of Roman +and Italian life without a peer. Mr. Crawford has been living in Italy +most of the year in order to be close to the atmosphere and the life of +the city which he has here depicted. + + * * * * * + +The Literary Sense + +By E. NESBIT + +Author of "The Red House," "The Would-Be-Goods," etc. + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +This is a collection of very clever and original short stories, by an +author whose work has attracted much favorable attention here and in +England. The stories deal with lovers' meetings, partings, +misunderstandings or reconciliations. They are little tragedies or +little comedies, and sometimes both. The situations are strong and +ingeniously conceived, and each tale has a turn or twist of its own. +There is throughout a quiet vein of humor and a light touch even where +the situation is strained. In a way the stories are held together, +because most or all of them have a bearing on the idea which is set +forth in the first story--the one that gives the book its title. In that +story the girl loses her lover because, instead of acting simply and +naturally, she tries to act as if she were in a book, to follow her +"literary sense"; in other words, she has something of the same +temperament that distinguished Mr. Barrie's "Sentimental Tommy." This +idea appears and reappears in the other stories, notably in that called +"Miss Eden's Baby," which in its way is a little masterpiece. + + * * * * * + +On the We-a Trail + +By CAROLINE BROWN + +Author of "Knights in Fustian" + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +This story incidentally portrays the vicissitudes and the lives of the +American pioneers in the "Great Wilderness," as the country west of the +Alleghanies was generally known. The capture and recapture of Fort +Sackville, at Vincennes on the Wabash, are important features among the +central incidents. + +The action begins in mid-wilderness and culminates with the fall of the +fort under the assault of George Rogers Clark. Here the lovers are +reunited after months of separation and adventures. They were first +parted by the savages, who murdered the heroine's entire family save +herself. Driven into the forest, she is taken captive by the Indians. +She makes her escape. Later she is taken to the fort by one of +Hamilton's _coureurs de bois_, and adopted into the family of the +commandant. The lover meantime wanders from Kaskaskia to Detroit in +pursuit of the tribe which has taken captive his sweetheart, and has +various adventures by the way, many of which take place on the famous +We-a Trail. The action of the story is practically confined to Indiana, +the author's native state; and it forms an important addition to the +increasing number of novels dealing with the early life of that region +of the country. + + * * * * * + +The Black Chanter + +and Other Highland Tales + +By NIMMO CHRISTIE + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +This is a remarkable group of stories by a new writer. They are all +Scotch, and deal with Scotland at a remote period--about the twelfth +century. All the tales except one--"The Wise Woman," which is the best +of all--deal with fighting, and the pipers appear in almost all. They +are stories rather for men than for women, because they deal with a +rough time in a direct way; but they are so clever that women whom +virility attracts will like them. The striking originality of these +stories augurs well for the author's future. The tales consist largely +in legends, traditions, and dramatic incidents connected with the old +life of Scottish clans. Each tale has at the end an unexpected turn or +quick bit of action, and these endings are almost invariably tragic. The +style is well suited to the character of the stories, which are wild, +weird, and queer. They have a true imaginative vein. + + * * * * * + +Blount of Breckenhow + +By BEULAH MARIE DIX + +Author of "The Making of Christopher Ferringham," "Soldier +Rigdale," and "Hugh Gwyeth" + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +Its scene is laid in England in the years 1642-45. It is not a +historical novel, nor a romance, nor an adventure story; it is the story +of a brave man and a noble woman as set forth in the letters of a +prosperous family of Yorkshire gentry. James Blount, the hero, comes by +his father's side of a race of decayed northern gentry, and by his +mother's side from the yeomanry. Entering the King's army as a private +trooper, he wins a commission; but he never wins social recognition from +his brother officers, and he is left much alone. He meets Arundel Carewe +and loves her. The moment when he is about to tell his love he learns +that she is betrothed to his captain, and only friend, Bevill +Rowlestone. Blount keeps silent till near the end of the story. +Meanwhile Arundel is married to Bevill, who is a delightful +seventeenth-century lover, but not wholly satisfactory as a husband. + +Arundel is in garrison with Bevill at a lonely village through the first +dreary winter of their married life. Bevill neglects what he has won, +but Blount in all honor is very tender and thoughtful of her. On the +night when Arundel's child is born, Bevill makes a gross error of +judgment and shifts a body of troops which exposes his whole position. +He entreats Blount, who is his subaltern, to shoulder the blame. For the +sake of Arundel and her child, Blount does so. The matter proves very +serious. Blount is tried by court-martial, publicly degraded, and kicked +out of the army. All trace of him is lost for some eighteen months. +Then, when Arundel and her child are in great danger in their besieged +country house, Blount, who is serving again as a private trooper, +appears and rescues her. The book does not teem with battle and +violence; only twice do the people in the story come within sound of the +guns. + + * * * * * + +McTodd + +By CUTCLIFFE HYNE + +Author of "Captain Kettle" and "Thompson's Progress" + +Cloth 12mo $1.50 + +Mr. Cutcliffe Hyne's "McTodd" enriches literature with a new and +fascinating figure. The author established himself with his "Captain +Kettle" books, and he has made his popularity considerably more sure +through his latest story, "Thompson's Progress." McTodd, the engineer, +was quite as popular a hero in the last Captain Kettle book as that +fiery little sailor, and Mr. Hyne now makes him the chief character in a +better story. The author's invention never flags, and the new story is +full of incidents and experiences of the liveliest and most fascinating +kind. Besides drawing a better character, the author has made his +experiences more like those of real people, and has constructed a story +which is well knit, forceful, and absorbing. He has outgrown the +crudities observable in his previous books, and it is expected that his +new creation will give him a much better place in literature and will +greatly strengthen his hold on the popular approval. + + +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + +66 Fifth Avenue, New York + + +Transcriber's note: + +A number of instances of 'Dic' being misspelt as 'Dick' have been +corrected. + +Printer's errors have been corrected, all other inconsistencies +are as in the original. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Forest Hearth: A Romance of Indiana +in the Thirties, by Charles Major + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOREST HEARTH: A ROMANCE *** + +***** This file should be named 29486.txt or 29486.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/8/29486/ + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Woodie4 and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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