________________________________________________
CHAPTER XV. Olive's Bicycle Trip
Despite Olive's desire to set forth immediately on her bicycle trip, it
was past the middle of the afternoon when she left Broadstone. She went
out quietly, not by the usual driveway, and was soon upon the turnpike
road. As she sped along the cool air upon her face refreshed her; and
the knowledge that she was so rapidly approaching the dear old
toll-gate, where, even if she did not find her uncle at the house, she
could sit with old Jane until he came back, gave her strength and
courage.
Up a long hill she went, and down again to the level country. Then there
was a slighter rise in the road, and when she reached its summit she
saw, less than a mile away, the toll-gate surrounded by its trees, the
thick foliage of the fruit-trees in the garden, the little tollhouse and
the long bar, standing up high at its customary incline upon the
opposite side of the road. Down the little hill she went; and then,
steadily and swiftly, onward. Presently she saw that some one was on the
piazza by the side of the tollhouse; his back was toward her, he was
sitting in his accustomed armchair; she could not be mistaken; it was
her uncle.
Now and then, while upon the road, she had thought of what she should
say when she first met him, but she had soon dismissed all ideas of
preconceived salutations, or explanations. She would be there, and that
would be enough. Her father's letter was in her pocket, and that was too
much. All she meant to do was to glide up to that piazza, spring up the
steps, and present herself to her uncle's astonished gaze before he had
any idea that any one was approaching.
She was within twenty feet of the piazza when she saw that her uncle was
not alone; there was some one sitting in front of him who had been
concealed by his broad shoulders. This person was a woman. She had
caught sight of Olive, and stuck her head out on one side to look at
her. Upon her dough-like face there was a grin, and in her eye a light
of triumph. With one quick glance she seemed to say: "Ah, ha, you find
me here, do you? What have you to say to that?"
Olive's heart stood still. That woman, that Maria Port, sitting in close
converse with her uncle in that public place where she had never seen
any one but men! That horrid woman at such a moment as this! She could
not speak to her; she could not speak to her uncle in her presence. She
could not stop. With what she had on her mind, and with what she had in
her pocket, it would be impossible to say a word before that Maria Port!
Without a swerve she sped on, and passed the toll-gate. She only knew
one thing; she could not stop.
The wildest suspicions now rushed into her mind. Why should her uncle
be thus exposing himself to the public gaze with Maria Port? Why did it
give the woman such diabolical pleasure to be seen there with him? With
a mind already prepared for such sickening revelations, Olive was
convinced that it could mean nothing but that her uncle intended to
marry Maria Port. What else could it mean? But no matter what it meant,
she could not stop. She could not go back.
On went her bicycle, and presently she gained sufficient command over
herself to know that she should not ride into the town. But what else
could she do? She could not go back while those two were sitting on the
piazza. Suddenly she remembered the shunpike. She had never been on it,
but she knew where it left the road, and where it reentered it. So she
kept on her course, and in a few minutes had reached the narrow country
road. There were ruts here and there, and sometimes there were stony
places; there were small hills, mostly rough; and there were few
stretches of smooth road; but on went Olive; sometimes trying with much
effort to make good time, and always with tears in her eyes, dimming the
roadway, the prospect, and everything in the world.
"There now!" exclaimed Maria Port, springing to her feet. "What have you
got to say to that? If that isn't brazen I never saw brass!"
"What do you mean?" said the captain, rising in his chair.
"Mean?" said Maria Port, leaning over the railing. "Look there! Do you
see that girl getting away as fast as she can work herself? That's your
precious niece, Olive Asher, scooting past us with her nose in the air
as if we was sticks and stones by the side of the road. What have you
got to say to that, Captain John, I'd like to know?"
The captain ran down the path. "You don't mean to say that is Olive!" he
cried.
"That's who it is," answered Miss Port. "She looked me square in the
face as she dashed by. Not a word for you, not a word for me. Impudence!
That doesn't express it!"
The captain paid no attention to her, but ran into the garden. Old Jane
was standing near the house door. "Was that Miss Olive?" he cried. "Did
you see her?"
"Yes," said old Jane, "it was her. I saw her comin', and I came out to
meet her. But she just shot through the toll-gate as if she didn't know
there was a toll on bicycles."
The captain stood still in the garden-path. He could not believe that
Olive had done this to treat him with contempt. She must have heard some
news. There must be something the matter. She was going into town at the
top of her speed to send a telegram, intending to stop as she came back.
She might have stopped anyway if it had not been for that
good-for-nothing Maria Port. She hated Maria, and he hated her himself,
at this moment, as she stood by his side, asking him what was the matter
with him.
"It's no more than you have to expect," said she. "She's a fine lady, a
navy lady, a foreign lady, that's been with the aristocrats! She's got
good clothes on that she never wore here, and where I guess she had a
pretty stupid time, judgin' from how they carry on at that Easterfield
place. Why in the world should she want to stop and speak to such
persons as you and me?"
The captain paid no attention to these remarks. "If she doesn't want to
send a telegram, I don't see what she is going to town for in such a
hurry. I suppose she thought she could get there sooner than a man could
go on a horse," he said.
"Telegram!" sneered Miss Port. "It's a great deal easier to send
telegrams from the gap."
"Then it is something worse," he thought. Perhaps she might be running
away, though what in the world she was running from he could not
imagine. Anyway, he must see her; he must find out. When she came back
she must not pass again, and if she did not come back he must go after
her. He ran to the road and put down the bar, calling to old Jane to
come there and keep a sharp lookout. Then he quickly returned to the
house.
"What are you going to do" asked Miss Port. "I never saw a man in such a
fluster."
"If she does not come back very soon," said he, "I shall go to town
after her."
"Then I suppose I might as well be going myself," said she. "And by the
way, captain, if you are going to town, why don't you take a seat in my
carriage? Dear knows me and the boy don't fill it."
But the captain would consider no such invitation. When he met Olive he
did not want Maria Port to be along. He did not answer, and went into
the house to make some change in his attire. Old Jane would not let
Olive pass, and if he met her on the road or in the town he wanted to be
well dressed.
Miss Port still stood in the path by the house door. "That's not what I
call polite," said she, "but he's awful flustered, and I don't mind."
Far from minding, Maria was pleased; it pleased her to know that his
niece's conduct had flustered him. The more that girl flustered him the
better it would be, and she smiled with considerable satisfaction. If
she could get that girl out of the way she believed she would find but
little difficulty in carrying out her scheme to embitter the remainder
of the good captain's life. She did not put it in that way to herself;
but that was the real character of the scheme.
Suddenly an idea struck her. It was of no use for her to stand and wait,
for she knew she would not be able to induce the captain to go with her.
It would be a great thing if she could, for to drive into town with him
by her side would go far to make the people of Glenford understand what
was going to happen. But, if she could not do this, she could do
something else. If she started away immediately she might meet that
Asher girl coming back, and it would be a very fine thing if she could
have an interview with her before she saw her uncle.
She made a quick step toward the house and looked in. The captain was
not visible, but old Jane was standing near the back door of the
tollhouse. The opportunity was not to be lost.
"Good-by, John," said she in a soft tone, but quite loud enough for the
old woman to hear. "I'll go home first, for I've got to see to gettin'
supper ready for you. So good-by, John, for a little while." And she
kissed her hand to the inside of the house.
Then she hurried out of the gate; got into the little phaeton which was
waiting for her under a tree; and drove away. She had come there that
afternoon on the pretense of consulting the captain about her father's
health, which she said disturbed her, and she had requested the
privilege of sitting on the toll-gate piazza because she had always
wanted to sit there, and had never been invited. The captain had not
invited her then, but as she had boldly marched to the piazza and taken
a seat, he had been obliged to follow.
Captain Asher, wearing a good coat and hat, relieved old Jane at her
post, and waited and waited for Olive to come back. He did not for a
moment think she might return by the shunpike, for that was a rough
road, not fit for a bicycle. And if she passed this way once, why should
she object to doing it again?
When more than time enough had elapsed for her return from the town, he
started forth with a heavy heart to follow her. He told old Jane that if
for any reason he should be detained in town until late, he would take
supper with Mr. Port, and if, although he did not expect this, he should
not come back that night, the Ports would know of his whereabouts. He
did not take his horse and buggy because he thought it would be in his
way. If he met Olive in the road he could more easily stop and talk to
her if he were walking than if he had a horse to take care of.
"I hope you're not runnin' after Miss Olive," said old Jane.
The captain did not wish his old servant to imagine that it was
necessary for him to run after his niece, and so he answered rather
quickly: "Of course not." Then he set off toward the town. He did not
walk very fast, for if he met Olive he would rather have a talk with her
on the road than in Glenford.
He walked on and on, not with his eyes on the smooth surface of the
pike, but looking out afar, hoping that he might soon see the figure of
a girl on a bicycle; and thus it was that he passed the entrance to the
shunpike without noticing that a bicycle track turned into it.
Olive struggled on, and the road did not improve. She worked hard with
her body, but still harder with her mind. It seemed to her as though
everything were endeavoring to crush her, and that it was almost
succeeding. If she had been in her own room, seated, or walking the
floor, indignation against her uncle would have given her the same
unnatural vigor and energy which had possessed her when she read her
father's letter; but it is impossible to be angry when one is physically
tired and depressed, and this was Olive's condition now. Once she
dismounted, sat down on a piece of rock, and cried. The rest was of
service to her, but she could not stay there long; the road was too
lonely. She must push on. So on she pressed, sometimes walking, and
sometimes on her wheel, the pedals apparently growing stiffer at every
turn. Slight mishaps she did not mind, but a fear began to grow upon her
that she would never be able to reach Broadstone at all. But after a
time--a very long time it seemed--the road grew more level and smooth;
and then ahead she saw the white surface of the turnpike shining as it
passed the end of her road. When she should emerge on that smooth, hard
road it could not be long, even if she went slowly, before she reached
home. She was still some fifty yards from the pike when she saw a man
upon it, walking southward.
As Dick Lancaster passed the end of the road he lifted his head, and
looked along it. It was strange that he should do so, for since he had
started on his homeward walk he had not raised his eyes from the ground.
He had reached Broadstone soon after luncheon, before Olive had left on
her wheel, and had passed rather a stupid time, playing tennis with
Claude Locker, he had seen but little of Mrs. Easterfield, whose mind
was evidently occupied. Once she had seemed about to take him into her
confidence, but had suddenly excused herself, and had gone into the
house. When the game was finished Locker advised him to go home.
"She is not likely to be down until dinner time," he had said, "and this
evening I'll defend our cause against those other fellows. I have
several good things in my mind that I am sure will interest her, and I
don't believe there's any use courting a girl unless you interest her."
Lancaster had taken the advice, and had left much earlier than was
usual.
Read next: Chapter 16. Mr. Lancaster Accepts A Mission
Read previous: Chapter 14. A Letter For Olive
Table of content of Captain's Toll-Gate
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book
