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CHAPTER XIII. Mr. Lancaster's Backers
Olive found Mr. Hemphill under a tree upon the lawn. He was sitting on a
low bench with one little girl upon each knee. He was not a stranger to
the children, for they had frequently met him during their winter
residences in cities. He was telling them a story when Olive approached.
He made an attempt to rise, but the little girls would not let him put
them down.
"Don't move, Mr. Hemphill," said Olive; "I am going to sit down myself."
And as she spoke she drew forward a low bench. "I am so glad to see you
are fond of children, Mr. Hemphill," she continued; "you must have
changed very much."
"Changed!" he exclaimed. "I have always been fond of them."
"Excuse me," said Olive, "not always. I remember a child you did not
care for, on whom you did not even look, who was absolutely nothing to
you, although you were so much to her."
Mr. Hemphill stared. "I do not remember such a child," said he.
"She existed," said Olive. "I was that child." And then she told him
how she had seen him come to her father's house.
Mr. Hemphill remembered Lieutenant Asher, he remembered going to his
house, but he did not remember seeing there a little girl.
"I was not so very little," said Olive; "I was fourteen, and I was just
at an age to be greatly attracted by you. I thought you were the most
beautiful young man I had ever beheld. I don't mind telling you, because
I can not look upon you as a stranger, that I fell deeply in love with
you."
As Mr. Hemphill sat and listened to these words his face turned redder
than the reddest rose, even his silky whiskers seemed to redden, his
fine-cut red lips were parted, but he could not speak. The two little
girls had been gazing earnestly at Olive. Now the elder one spoke.
"I am in love," she said.
"And so am I," piped up the younger one.
"She's in love with Martha's little Jim," said the first girl, "but I am
in love with Henry. He's eight. Both boys."
"I wouldn't be in love with a girl," said the little one contemptuously.
This interruption was a help to Mr. Hemphill, and his redness paled a
little.
"Of course you could not be expected to know anything of my feelings for
you," said Olive, "and perhaps it is very well you did not, for business
is business, and the feelings of girls should not be allowed to
interfere with it. But my heart went out to you all the same. You were
my first love."
Now Mr. Hemphill crimsoned again worse than before. He had not yet
spoken a word, and there was no word in the English language which he
thought would be appropriate for the occasion.
"You may think I am a little cruel to plump this sort of thing upon
you," said Olive, "in such a sudden way, but I am not. All this was
seven years ago, and a person of my age can surely speak freely of what
happened seven years ago. I did not even know you when I met you, but
Mrs. Easterfield told me about you, and now I remember everything, and I
think it would have been inhuman if I had not told you of the part you
used to play in my life. You have a right to know it."
If Mr. Hemphill could have reddened any more he would have done so, but
it was not possible. The thought flashed into his mind that it might be
well to say something about her having found him very much changed, but
in the next instant he saw that that would not do. How could he assume
that he had ever been beautiful; how could he force her to say that he
was not beautiful now, or that he still remained so?
"I am very glad I have met you," said Olive, "and that I know who you
are. And I am glad, too, to tell you that I forgive you for not taking
notice of me seven years ago."
"Is that all of your story?" asked the elder little girl.
"Yes," said Olive, laughing, "that is all."
"Well, then, let Mr. Hemphill go on with his," said she.
"Oh, certainly," said Olive, jumping up; "and you must all excuse me
for interfering with your story."
Mr. Hemphill sat still, a little girl on each knee. He had not spoken a
word since that beautiful girl had told him she had once loved him. And
he could not speak now.
"You look as if you had a plaster taken off," said the younger little
girl. And, after waiting a moment for an answer, she slipped off his
knee; the other followed; and the story was postponed.
When Mrs. Easterfield heard Olive's account of this incident she was
utterly astounded. "What sort of a girl are you" she exclaimed. "What
are you going to do about it now?"
"Do?" said Olive quietly. "I have done."
Mrs. Easterfield was in a state of great perplexity. She had already
asked Mr. Hemphill to stay until Saturday, three days off, and she could
not tell him to go away, and the awkwardness of his remaining in the
same house with Olive was something not easy to deal with.
During Olive's interview with Mr. Hemphill and the little girls Claude
Locker had been sitting alone at a distance, gazing at the group. He was
waiting for an opportunity of social converse, for this was not
forbidden him even if the time did not immediately precede the luncheon
hour. He saw Hemphill's blazing face, and deeply wondered. If it had
been the lady who had flushed he would have bounced upon the scene to
defend her, but Olive was calm, and it was the conscious guilt of the
man that made his face look like a freshly painted tin roof. This was an
affair into which he had no right to intrude himself, and so he sat and
sighed, and his heart grew heavy. How many ante-luncheon avowals would
have to be made before she would take so much interest in him, one way
or the other!
Mr. Du Brant also sat at a distance. He was reading, or at least
appearing to read; but he was so unaccustomed to holding a book in his
hands that he did it very awkwardly, and Miss Raleigh, who was looking
at him from the library window, made up her mind that if he dropped it,
as she expected him to do, she would get the book and rub the dirt off
the corners before it was put back into the bookcase. But when Olive
left Mr. Hemphill she went so quickly into the house that the Austrian
was unable to join her, and he, therefore, went to his room to prepare
for dinner.
Dick Lancaster had also been waiting, although not watching. He had
hoped that he might have a chance for a little talk with Olive. But
there was really no good reason to expect it, for he knew that two, and
perhaps three, young men had stayed at home that afternoon in the hope
that they might have the same opportunity. The odds against him were
great.
He began to think that perhaps he was engaged in a foolish piece of
business, and was in danger of making himself disagreeably conspicuous.
The other young men were guests at Broadstone, but if he came there
every day as he had been doing, and as he wanted to do, it might be
thought that he was taking advantage of Mrs. Easterfield's kindness. At
that moment he heard the rustle of skirts, and, glancing up, saw Mrs.
Easterfield, who was looking for him.
Mrs. Easterfield's regard for Lancaster was growing, partly on account
of the confidence she had already reposed in him. In her present state
of mind she would have been glad to give him still more, for she did not
know what to do about Olive and Mr. Hemphill, and there was no one with
whom she could talk upon the subject; even if she had known Dick better
her loyalty to Olive would have prevented that.
"Have you found out anything about the captain and Olive?" she asked.
"Has he spoken of her return?"
"No," replied Dick; "he has not said a word on the subject, but I am
very sure he would be overjoyed to have her come back. Every day when
the postman arrives I believe he looks for a letter from her, and he
shows that he feels it when he finds none. He is good-natured, and
pleasant, but he is not as cheerful as when I first came."
"Every day," said Mrs. Easterfield, as they walked together, "I love
Olive more and more."
"So do I," thought Dick.
"But every day I understand her less and less," she continued. "She is
truly a navy girl, and repose does not seem to be one of her
characteristics. From what she has told me, I believe she has never
lived in domestic peace and quiet until she came to stay with her uncle.
It would delight me to see her properly married. I wish you would marry
her."
Dick stopped, and so did she, and they stood looking at each other. He
did not redden, for he was not of the flushing kind; his face even grew
a little hard.
"Do you believe," said he, in a very different tone from his ordinary
voice, "that I have the slightest chance?"
"Of course I do," she answered. "I believe you have a very good chance,
or I should not have spoken to you. I flatter myself that I have
excellent judgment concerning young men, and I am very fond of Olive."
"Mrs. Easterfield," exclaimed Dick, "you know I am in love with her. I
suppose that has been easy enough to see, but it has all been very quick
work with me; in fact, I have had very little to say to her, and have
never said anything that could in the slightest degree indicate how I
felt toward her. But I believe I loved her the second day I met her, and
I am not sure it did not begin the day before."
"I think that sort of thing is always quick work where Olive is
concerned," said Mrs. Easterfield. "I think it likely that many young
men have fallen in love with her, and that they have to be very lively
if they want a chance to tell her so. But don't be jealous. I know
positively that none of them ever had the slightest chance. But now all
that is passed. I know she is tired of an unsettled life, and it is
likely she may soon be thinking of marrying, and there will be no lack
of suitors. She has them now. But I want her to marry you."
"Mrs. Easterfield," exclaimed Dick, "you have known me but a very little
while----"
"Don't mention that," she interrupted. "I do quick work as well as other
people. I never before engaged in any matchmaking business, but if this
succeeds, I shall be proud of it to the end of my days. You are in love
with Olive, and she is worthy of you. I want you to try to win her, and
I will do everything I can to help you. Here is my hand upon it."
As Dick held that hand and looked into that face a courage and a belief
in himself came into his heart that had never been there before. By day
and by night his soul had been filled with the image of Olive, but up to
this moment he had not thought of marrying her. That was something that
belonged to the future, not even considered in his state of inchoate
adoration. But now that he had been told he had reason to hope, he
hoped; and the fact that one beautiful woman told him he might hope to
win another beautiful woman was a powerful encouragement. Henceforth he
would not be content with simply loving Olive; if it were within his
power he would win, he would have her.
"You look like a soldier going forth to conquest," said Mrs. Easterfield
with a smile.
"And you," said he impulsively, "you not only look like, but you are an
angel."
This was pretty strong for the young professor, but the lady understood
him. She was very glad, indeed, that he could express himself
impulsively, for without that power he could not win Olive.
As Dick started away from Broadstone on his walk to the toll-gate he
heard quick steps behind him and was soon overtaken by Claude Locker.
"Hello," said that young man, "if you are on your way home I am going to
walk a while with you. I have not done a thing to-day."
When Dick heard these words his heart sank. He was on his way home
accompanied by Olive--Olive in his heart, Olive in his soul, Olive in
his brain, Olive in the sky and all over the earth--how dared a common
mortal intrude himself upon the scene?
"There is another thing," said Locker, who was now keeping step with
him. "My soul is filled with murderous intent. I thirst for human life,
and I need the restraints of companionship."
"Who is it you want to kill?" asked Dick coldly.
"It is an Austrian," replied the other. "I will not say what Austrian,
leaving that to your imagination. I don't suppose you ever killed an
Austrian. Neither have I, but I should like to do it. It would be a
novel and delightful experience."
Dick did not think it necessary that he should be told more; he
perfectly understood the state of the case, for it was impossible not to
see that this young man was paying marked attention to Olive, while Mr.
Du Brant was doing the same thing. But still it seemed well to say
something, and he remarked:
"What is the matter with the Austrian?"
"He is in love with Miss Asher," said Locker, "and so am I. I am
beginning to believe he is positively dangerous. I did not think so at
first, but I do now. He has actually taken to reading. I know that man;
I have often seen him in Washington. He was always running after some
lady or other, but I never knew him to read before. It is a dangerous
symptom. He reads with one eye, while the other sweeps the horizon to
catch a glimpse of her. By the way, that would be a splendid idea for a
district policeman; if he stood under a lamp-post in citizen's dress
reading a book, no criminal would suspect his identity, and he could
keep one eye on the printed page, and devote the other to the cause of
justice. But to return to our sallow mutton, or black sheep, if you
choose. That Austrian ought to be killed!"
Dick smiled sardonically. "He is not your only obstacle," he said.
"I know it," replied Locker. "There's that Chinese laundried fellow,
smooth-finished, who came up this morning. He must be an old offender,
for I saw her giving it to him hot this morning. I am sure she was
telling him exactly what she thought of him, for he turned as red as a
pickled beet. So he will have to scratch pretty hard if he expects to
get into her good graces again, and I suppose that is what he came here
for. But I am not so much afraid of him as I am of that Austrian. If he
keeps on the literary lay, and reads books with her, looking up the
words in the dictionary, it is dangerous."
"I do not see," said Lancaster, somewhat loftily, "why you speak of
these things to me."
"Then I'll tell you," said Locker quickly. "I speak of them to you
because you are just as much concerned in them as I am. You are in love
with Miss Asher--anybody can see that--and, in fact, I should think you
were a pretty poor sort of a fellow if you were not, after having seen
and talked with her. Consequently that Austrian is just as dangerous to
you as he is to me. And as I have chosen you for my brother-in-arms, it
is right that I tell you everything I know."
"Brother-in-arms?" ejaculated Dick.
"That is what it is," said Locker, "and I will tell you how it came
about. The Austrian looked upon you with scorn and contempt because you
rode a horse wearing rolled-up trousers and low shoes. As you did not
see him and could not return the contempt, I did it for you. Having done
this, a fellow feeling for you immediately sprang up within me. That is
what always happens, you know. After that the feeling became a good deal
stronger, and I said to myself that if I found I could not get Miss
Asher; and it's seventy-six I don't, for that's generally the state of
my luck; I would help you to get her, partly because I like you, and
partly because that Austrian must be ousted, no matter what happens or
how it is done. So I became your brother-in-arms, and if I find I am out
of the race, I am going to back you up just as hard as I can, and here's
my hand upon it."
Dick stopped as he had stopped half an hour before, and gazed upon his
companion.
"Now don't thank me," continued Locker, "or say anything nice, because
if I find I can come in ahead of you I am going to do it. But if we work
together, I am sure we need not be afraid of that Austrian, or of that
fiery-faced model for a ready-made-clothes shop. It is to be either you
or me--first place for me, if possible."
Dick could not help laughing. "You are a jolly sort of a fellow," said
he, "and I will be your brother-in-arms. But it is to be first place for
me, if possible." And they shook hands upon the bargain.
That evening Mr. Hemphill found Olive alone. "I have been trying to get
a chance to speak to you, Miss Asher," said he. "I want to ask you to
help me, for I do not know what in the world to do."
Olive looked at him inquiringly.
"Since you spoke to me this afternoon," he went on, "I have been in a
state of most miserable embarrassment; I can not for the life of me
decide what I ought to say or what I ought to do, or what I ought not to
say or what I ought not to do. If I should pass over as something not
necessary to take into consideration the--the--most unusual statement
you made to me, it might be that you would consider me as a boor, a man
incapable of appreciating the--the--highest honors. Then again, if I do
say anything to show that I appreciate such honors, you may well
consider me presumptuous, conceited, and even insulting. I thought a
while ago that I would leave this house before it would be necessary for
me to decide how I should act when I met you, but I could not do that.
Explanations would be necessary, and I would not be able to make them,
and so, in sheer despair, I have come to you. Whatever you say I ought
to do I will do. Of myself, I am utterly helpless."
Olive looked at him with serious earnestness. "You are in a queer
position," she said, "and I don't wonder you do not know what to do. I
did not think of this peculiar consequence which would result from my
revelation. As to the revelation itself, there is no use talking about
it; it had to be made. It would have been unjust and wicked to allow a
man to live in ignorance of the fact that such a thing had happened to
him without his knowing it. But I think I can make it all right for
you. If you had known when you were very young, in fact, when you were
in another age of man, that a young girl in short dresses was in love
with you, would you have disdained her affection?"
"I should say not!" exclaimed Rupert Hemphill, his eyes fixed upon the
person who had once been that girl in short dresses.
"Well, then," said Olive, "there could have been nothing for her to
complain of, no matter what she knew or what she did not know, and there
is nothing he could complain of, no matter what he knew or did not know.
And as both these persons have passed entirely out of existence, I think
you and I need consider them no longer. And we can talk about tennis or
bass fishing, or anything we like. And if you are a fisherman you will
be glad to hear that there is first-rate bass fishing in the river now,
and that we are talking of getting up a regular fishing party. We shall
have to go two or three miles below here where the water is deeper and
there are not so many rocks."
That night Mr. Hemphill dreamed hard of a girl who had loved him when
she was little, and who continued to love him now that she had grown to
be wonderfully handsome. He was going out to sail with her in a boat far
and far away, where nobody could find them or bring them back.
Read next: Chapter 14. A Letter For Olive
Read previous: Chapter 12. Mr. Rupert Hemphill
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