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CHAPTER XII. Mr. Rupert Hemphill
That afternoon it rained, so that the Broadstone people were obliged to
stay indoors. Dick Lancaster found Mr. Fox a very agreeable and
well-informed man, and Mrs. Fox was also an excellent conversationalist.
Mrs. Easterfield, who, after the confidences of the morning, could not
help looking at him as something more than an acquaintance, talked to
him a good deal, and tried to make the time pass pleasantly, at which
business she was an adept. All this was very pleasant to Dick, but it
did not compensate him for the almost entire loss of the society of
Olive, who seemed to devote herself to the entertainment of the Austrian
secretary. Mrs. Easterfield was very sorry that the young foreigner had
come at this time, but he had been invited the winter before; the time
had been appointed; and the visit had to be endured.
When the rain had ceased, and Dick was about to take his leave, his
hostess declared she would not let him walk back through the mud.
"You shall have a horse," she said, "and that will insure an early visit
from you, for, of course, you will not trust the animal to other hands
than your own. I would ask you to stay, but that would not be treating
the captain kindly."
As Dick was mounting Mr. Du Brant was standing at the front door, a
smile on his swarthy countenance. This smile said as plainly as words
could have done so that it was very amusing to this foreign young man to
see a person with rolled-up trousers and a straw hat mount upon a horse.
Claude Locker, whose soul had been chafing all the afternoon under his
banishment from the society of the angel of his life, was also at the
front door, and saw the contemptuous smile. Instantly a new and powerful
emotion swept over his being in the shape of a strong feeling of
fellowship for Lancaster. It made his soul boil with indignation to see
the sneer which the Austrian directed toward the young man, a thoroughly
fine young man, who, by said foreigner's monkeyful impudence, and
another's mistaken favor, had been made a brother-in-misfortune of
himself, Claude Locker.
"I will make common cause with him against the enemy," thought Locker.
"If I should fail to get her I will help him to." And although Dick's
brown socks were plainly visible as he cantered away, Mr. Locker looked
after him as a gallant and honored brother-in-arms.
That evening Claude Locker fought for himself and his comrade. He
persisted in talking French with Mr. Du Brant; and his remarkable
management of that language, in which ignorance and a subtle facility in
intentional misapprehension were so adroitly blended that it was
impossible to tell one from the other, amused Olive, and so provoked the
Austrian that at last he turned away and began to talk American
politics with Mr. Fox, which so elated the poet that the ladies of the
party passed a merry evening.
"Would you like me to take him out rowing to-morrow?" asked Claude apart
to his hostess.
"With you at the oars?" she asked.
"Of course," said Locker.
"I am amazed," said she, "that you should suspect me of such
cold-blooded cruelty."
"You know you don't want him here," said Claude. "His salary can not be
large, and he must spend the greater part of it on clothes--and oil."
"Is it possible," she asked, "that you look upon that young man as a
rival?"
"By no means," he replied; "such persons never marry. They only prevent
other people from marrying anybody. Therefore it is that I remember what
sort of a boatman I am."
"My dear," said Mr. Fox, when he and his wife had retired to their room,
"after hearing what that Austrian has to say of the American people, I
almost revere Mr. Locker."
"I heard some of his remarks," she said, "and I imagined they would have
an effect of that kind upon you."
When the Broadstone surrey came from the train the next morning it
brought a gentleman.
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Fox, when from the other side of the lawn she saw
him alight. "Another young man with a valise! It seems to me that this
is an overdose!"
"Overdoses," remarked Mr. Fox, "are often less dangerous than just
enough poison."
Mrs. Easterfield received this visitor at the door. She had been waiting
for him, and did not wish him to meet anybody when she was not present.
After offering his respectful salutations, Mr. Hemphill, Mr.
Easterfield's secretary in the central office of the D. and J.,
delivered without delay a package of which he was the bearer, and
apologized for his valise, stating that Mr. Easterfield had told him he
must spend the night at Broadstone.
"Most assuredly you would do that," said she, and to herself she added,
"If I want you longer I will let you know."
Mr. Rupert Hemphill was a very handsome man; his nose was fine; his eyes
were dark and expressive; he wore silky side-whiskers, which, however,
did not entirely conceal the bloom upon his cheeks; his teeth were very
good; he was well shaped; and his clothes fitted him admirably.
As has been said before, Mrs. Easterfield was exceedingly interested;
she was even a little agitated, which was not common with her. She had
Mr. Hemphill conducted to his room, and then she waited for him to come
down; this also was not common with her.
"Mr. Locker," she called from the open door, "do you know where Miss
Asher is?"
The poet stopped in his stride across the lawn, and approached the lady.
"Oh, she is with the Du Brant," said he. "I have been trying to get in
some of my French, but neither of them will rise to the fly. However, I
am content; it is now three hours before luncheon, and if she has him
to herself for that length of time, I think she will be thoroughly
disgusted. Then it will be my time, as per agreement."
Mrs. Easterfield was a little disappointed. She wanted Olive by herself,
but she did not want to make a point of sending for her. But fortune
favored her.
"There she is," exclaimed Locker; "she is just going into the library.
Let me go tell her you want her."
"Not at all," said Mrs. Easterfield. "Don't put yourself into danger of
breaking your word by seeing her alone before luncheon. I'll go to her."
Mr. Locker continued his melancholy stroll, and Mrs. Easterfield entered
the library. Olive must not be allowed to go away until the moment
arrived which had been awaited with so much interest.
"I am looking for a copy of _Tartarin sur les Alps_. I am sure I saw it
among these French books," said Olive, on her knees before a low
bookcase. "Would you believe it, Mr. Du Brant has never read it, and he
seems to think so much of education."
Mrs. Easterfield knew exactly where the book was, but she preferred to
allow Olive to occupy herself in looking for it, while she kept her eyes
on the hall.
"Wait a moment, Olive," said she; "a visitor has just arrived, and I
want to make him acquainted with you."
Olive rose with a book in her hand, and Mrs. Easterfield presented Mr.
Hemphill to Miss Asher. As she did so, Mrs. Easterfield kept her eyes
steadily fixed upon the young lady's face. With a pleasant smile Olive
returned Mr. Hemphill's bow. She was generally glad to make new
acquaintances.
"Mr. Hemphill is one of my husband's business associates," said Mrs.
Easterfield, still with her eyes on Olive. "He has just come from him."
"Did he send us this fine day by you?" said Olive. "If so, we are
greatly obliged to him."
The young man answered that, although he had not brought the day, he was
delighted that he had come in company with it.
"What atrocious commonplaces!" thought Mrs. Easterfield. "The girl does
not know him from Adam!"
Here was a disappointment; the thrill, the pallor, the involuntary
start, were totally absent; and the first act of the little play was a
failure. But Mrs. Easterfield hoped for better things when the curtain
rose again. She conducted Mr. Hemphill to the Foxes and let Olive go
away with her book; and, as soon as she had the opportunity, she read
the letter from her husband.
"With this I send you Mr. Hemphill," he wrote. "I don't know what you
want to do with him, but you must take good care of him. He is a most
valuable secretary, and an estimable young man. As soon as you have done
with him please send him back."
"I am glad he is estimable," said Mrs. Easterfield to herself. "That
will make the matter more satisfactory to Tom when I explain it to him."
When Dick Lancaster, properly booted and wearing a felt hat, returned
the borrowed horse, he was met by Mr. Locker, who had been wandering
about the front of the house, and when he had dismounted Dick was
somewhat surprised by the hearty handshake he received.
"I am sorry to have to tell you," said the poet, "that there is another
one."
"Another what?" asked Dick.
"Another unnecessary victim," replied Locker. And with this he returned
to the front of the house.
At last Olive came down the stairs, and she was alone. Locker stepped
quickly up to her.
"If I should marry," he said, "would I be expected to entertain that
Austrian?"
She stopped, and gave the question her serious consideration. "I should
think," she said, "that that would depend a good deal upon whom you
should marry."
"How can you talk in that way?" he exclaimed. "As if there were anything
to depend upon!"
"Nothing to depend upon," said Olive, slightly raising her eyebrows.
"That is bad." And she went into the dining-room.
The afternoon was an exceptionally fine one, but the party at Broadstone
did not take advantage of it; there seemed to be a spirit of unrest
pervading the premises, and when the carriage started on a drive along
the river only Mr. and Mrs. Fox were in it. Mrs. Easterfield would not
leave Olive and Mr. Hemphill, and she did not encourage them to go.
Consequently there were three young men who did not wish to go.
"It seems to me," said Mr. Fox, as they rolled away, "that a young
woman, such as Miss Asher, has it in her power to interfere very much
with the social feeling which should pervade a household like this. If
she were to satisfy herself with attracting one person, all the rest of
us might be content to make ourselves happy in such fashions as might
present themselves."
"The rest of us!" exclaimed Mrs. Fox.
"Yes," replied her husband. "I mean you, and Mrs. Easterfield, and
myself, and the rest. That young woman's indeterminate methods of
fascination interfere with all of us."
"I don't exactly see how they interfere with me," said Mrs. Fox rather
stiffly.
"If the carriage had been filled, as was expected," said her husband, "I
might have had the pleasure of driving you in a buggy."
She turned to him with a smile. "Immediately after I spoke," she said,
"I imagined you might be thinking of something of that kind."
Mrs. Easterfield was not a woman to wait for things to happen in their
own good time. If possible, she liked to hurry them up. In this Olive
and Hemphill affair there was really nothing to wait for; if she left
them to themselves there would be no happenings. As soon as was
possible, she took Olive into her own little room, where she kept her
writing-table, and into whose sacred precincts her secretary was not
allowed to penetrate.
"Now, then," said she, "what do you think of Mr. Hemphill?"
"I don't think of him at all," said Olive, a little surprised. "Is there
anything about him to think of?"
"He sat by you at luncheon," said Mrs. Easterfield.
"I know that," said Olive, "and he was better than an empty chair. I
hate sitting by empty chairs."
"Olive," exclaimed Mrs. Easterfield with vivacity, "you ought to
remember that young man!"
"Remember him?" the girl ejaculated.
"Certainly," said Mrs. Easterfield. "After what you told me about him, I
expected you would recognize him the moment you saw him. But you did not
know him; you did not do anything I expected you to do; and I was very
much disappointed."
"What are you talking about?" asked Olive.
"I am talking about Mr. Hemphill; Mr. Rupert Hemphill; who, about seven
years ago, was engaged in the Philadelphia Navy-Yard, and who came to
your house on business with your father. From what you told me of him I
conjectured that he might now be my husband's Philadelphia secretary,
for his name is Rupert, and I had reason to believe that he was once
engaged in the navy-yard. When I found out I was entirely correct in my
supposition I had him sent here, and I looked forward with the most
joyous anticipations to being present when you first saw him. But it was
all a fiasco! I suppose some people might think I was unwarrantably
meddling in the affairs of others, but as it was in my power to create a
most charming romance, I could not let the opportunity pass."
Olive did not hear a word of Mrs. Easterfield's latest remarks; her
round, full eyes were fixed upon the wall in front of her, but they saw
nothing. Her mind had gone back seven years.
"Is it possible," she exclaimed presently, "that that is my Rupert, my
beautiful Rupert of the roseate cheeks, the Rupert of my heart, my only
love! The Endymion-like youth I watched for every day; on whom I gazed
and gazed and worshiped and longed for when he had gone; of whom I
dreamed; to whom my soul went out in poetry; whose miniature I would
have painted on the finest ivory if I had known how to paint; and whose
image thus created I would have worn next my heart to look at every
instant I found myself alone, if it had not been that my dresses were
all fastened down the back! I am going to him this instant! I must see
him again! My Rupert, my only love!" And with this she started to the
door.
"Olive," cried Mrs. Easterfield, springing from her chair, "stop, don't
you do that! Come back. You must not--"
But the girl had flown down the stairs, and was gone.
Read next: Chapter 13. Mr. Lancaster's Backers
Read previous: Chapter 11. Mr. Locker Is Released On Bail
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