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CHAPTER XIX. The Captain and Dick Lancaster desert the Toll-Gate
When Captain Asher, in an angry mood, left his young friend and guest
and went out into his barnyard and his fields in order to quiet his soul
by the consideration of agricultural subjects, he met with but little
success. He looked at his pigs, but he did not notice their plump
condition; he glanced at his two cows, cropping the grass in the little
meadow, but it did not impress him that they also were in fine
condition; nor did he care whether the pasture were good or not. He
looked at this; and he looked at that; and then he folded his arms and
looked at the distant mountains. Suddenly he turned on his heel, walked
straight to the stable, harnessed his mare to the buggy, and, without
saying a word to anybody, drove out of the gate, and on to Glenford.
Dick Lancaster, who was in the arbor, looked in amazement after the
captain's departing buggy, and old Jane, with tears in her eyes, came
out and spoke to him.
"Isn't this dreadful" she said to him. "Supper with that woman and there
all night, and back again as soon as he can get off this mornin'!"
"Perhaps he is not going to her house," Dick suggested. "He may have
business in town which he forgot yesterday."
"If he'd had it he'd forgot it," replied the old woman. "But he hadn't
none. He's gone to Maria Port's, and he may bring her back with him,
married tight and fast, for all you or me knows. It would be just like
his sailor fashion. When the captain's got anything to do he just does
it sharp and quick."
"I don't believe that," said Dick. "If he had had any such intention as
that he certainly would have mentioned it to you or to me."
The good woman shook her head. "When an old man marries a girl," she
said, "she just leads him wherever she wants him to go, and he gives up
everything to her, and when an old man marries a tough and seasoned and
smoked old maid like Maria Port, she just drives him wherever she wants
him to go, and he hasn't nothin' to say about it. It looks as if she
told him to come in this mornin', and he's gone. It may be for a
weddin', or it may be for somethin' else, but whatever it is, it'll be
her way and not his straight on to the end of the chapter."
Dick had nothing to answer. He was very much afraid that old Jane knew
what she was talking about, and his mind was occupied with trying to
decide what he, individually, ought to do about it. Old Jane was now
obliged to go to the toll-gate to attend to a traveler, but when she
came back she took occasion to say a few more words.
"It's hard on me, sir," she said, "at my age to make a change. I've
lived at this house, and I've took toll at that gate ever since I was a
girl, long before the captain came here, and I've been with him a long
time. My people used to own this house, but they all died, and when the
place was sold and the captain bought it, he heard about me, and he said
I should always have charge of the old toll-gate when he wasn't
attendin' to it himself, just the same as when my father was alive and
was toll-gate keeper, and I was helpin' him. But I've got to go now, and
where I'm goin' to is more'n I know. But I'd rather go to the county
poorhouse than stay here, or anywhere else, with Maria Port. She's a
regular boa-constrictor, that woman is! She's twisted herself around
people before this and squeezed the senses out of them; and that's
exactly what she's doin' with the captain. If she could come here to
live and bring her old father, and get him to sell the house in town and
put the money in bank, and then if she could worry her husband and her
father both to death, and work things so she'd be a widow with plenty of
money and a good house and as much farm land as she wanted, and a
toll-gate where she could set all day and take toll and give back lies
and false witness as change, she'd be the happiest woman on earth."
It had been long since old Jane had said as much at any one time to any
one person, but her mind was stirred. Her life was about to change, and
the future was very black to her.
When dinner was ready the captain had not yet returned, and Dick ate his
meal by himself. He was now beginning to feel used to this sort of
thing. He had scarcely finished, and gone down to the garden-gate to
look once more over the road toward Glenford, when the man in the buggy
arrived, and he received Mrs. Easterfield's letter.
He lost no moments in making up his mind. He would go to Broadstone, of
course, and he did not think it at all necessary to stand on ceremony
with the captain. The latter had gone off and left him without making
any statement whatever, but he would do better, and he wrote a note
explaining the state of affairs. As he was leaving old Jane came to bid
him good-by.
"I don't know," said she, "that you will find me here when you come
back. The fact of it is I don't know nothin'. But one thing's certain,
if she's here I ain't, and if she's too high and mighty to take toll in
her honeymoon, the captain'll have to do it himself, or let 'em pass
through free."
Mrs. Easterfield was on the lawn when Lancaster arrived, and in answer
to the involuntary glance with which Dick's eyes swept the surrounding
space, even while he was shaking hands with her, she said: "No, she is
not here. She has gone boating, and so you must come and tell me
everything, and then we can decide what is best to tell her."
For an instant Dick's soul demurred. If he told Olive anything he would
tell her all he knew, and exactly what had happened. But he would not
lose faith in this noble woman who was going to help him with Olive if
she could. So they sat down, side by side, and he told her everything he
knew about Captain Asher and Miss Port.
"It does look very much as if he were going to marry the woman," said
Mrs. Easterfield. Then she sat silent and looked upon the ground, a
frown upon her face.
Dick was also silent, and his countenance was clouded. "Poor Olive," he
thought, "it is hard that this new trouble should come upon her just at
this time."
But Mrs. Easterfield said in her heart: "Poor fellow, how little you
know what has come upon you! The woman who has turned her uncle from
Olive has turned Olive from you."
"Well," said the lady at length, "do you think it is worth while to say
anything to her about it? She has already surmised the state of affairs,
and, so far as I can see, you have nothing of importance to tell her."
"Perhaps not," said Dick, "but as she sent me on a mission I want to
make known to her the result of it so far as there has been any result.
It will be very unpleasant, of course--it will be even painful--but I
wish to do it all the same."
"That is to say," said Mrs. Easterfield with a smile that was not very
cheerful, "you want to be with her, to look at her and to speak to her,
no matter how much it may pain her or you to do it."
"That's it," answered Dick.
Mrs. Easterfield sat and reflected. She very much liked this young man,
and, considering herself as his friend, were there not some things she
ought to tell him? She concluded that there were such things.
"Mr. Lancaster," she said, "have you noticed that there are other young
men in love with Miss Asher?"
"I know there is one," said Dick, "for he told me so himself."
"That was Claude Locker?" said she with interest.
"And he promised," continued Dick, "that if he failed he would do all he
could to help me. I can not say that this is really for love of me, for
his avowed object is to prevent Mr. Du Brant from getting her. We
assumed that he was her lover, although I do not know that there is any
real ground for it."
"There is very good ground for it," said she, "for he has already
proposed to her. What do you think of that?"
"It makes no difference to me," said Dick; "that is, if he has not been
accepted. What I want is to find myself warranted in telling Miss Asher
how I feel toward her; it does not matter to me how the rest of the
world feels."
"Then there is another," said Mrs. Easterfield, "with whom she is now on
the river--Mr. Hemphill. He is in love with her; and as he can not stay
here very long, I think he will soon propose."
"I can not help it," said Dick; "I love her, and the great object of my
life just at present is to tell her so. You said you would help me, and
I hope you will not withdraw from that promise."
"No, indeed," said she, "but I do not know her as well as I thought I
did. But here she comes now, and without the young man. I hope she has
not drowned him!"
Without heeding anything that had just been said to him Dick kept his
eyes fixed upon the sparkling girl who now approached them. Every step
she made was another link in his chain; Mrs. Easterfield glanced at him
and knew this. She pitied him for what he had to tell her now, and more
for what he might have to hear from her at another time. But Olive saved
Dick from any present ordeal. She stepped up to him and offered him her
hand.
"I do not wonder, Mr. Lancaster," she said, "that you did not want to
come back and tell me your doleful story, but as I know what it is, we
need not say anything about it now, except that I am ever so much
obliged to you for all your kindness to me. And now I am going to ask
another favor. Won't you let me speak to Mrs. Easterfield a few
moments?"
As soon as they were seated, with the door shut, Olive began.
"Well," said she, "he has proposed."
"Mr. Hemphill!" exclaimed Mrs. Easterfield.
"Rupert," Olive answered, "yes, it is truly Rupert who proposed to me."
"I declare," cried Mrs. Easterfield, "you come to me and tell me this as
if it were a piece of glad news. Yesterday, and even this morning, you
were plunged in grief, and now your eyes shine as if you were positively
happy."
"I have told you my aim and object in life," said the girl. "I am trying
to do something, and to do it soon, and everything is going on smoothly.
And as to being happy, I tell you, Mrs. Easterfield, there is no woman
alive who could help being made happy by such a declaration as I have
just received. No matter what answer she gave him, she would be bound
to be happy."
"Most other women would not have let him make it," said Mrs. Easterfield
a little severely.
"There is something in that," said Olive, "but they would not have the
object in life I have. I may be unduly exalted, but you would not wonder
at it if you had seen him and heard him. Mrs. Easterfield, that man
loves me exactly as I used to love him, and he has told me his love just
as I would have told him mine if I could have carried out the wish of my
heart. His eyes glowed, his frame shook with the ardor of his passion.
Two or three times I had to tell him that if he did not trim boat we
should be upset. I never saw anything like his impassioned vehemence. It
reminded me of Salvini. I never was loved like that before."
"And what answer did you make to him?" asked Mrs. Easterfield, her voice
trembling.
"I did not make him any. It would not have been fair to the others or to
myself to do that. I shall not swerve from my purpose, but I shall not
be rash."
Mrs. Easterfield rose suddenly and stepped to the open window; she could
not sit still a moment longer; she needed air. "Olive," she said, "this
is mad and wicked folly in you, and it is impertinent in him, no matter
how much you encouraged him. I would like to send him back to his desk
this minute. He has no right to come to his employer's house and behave
in this manner."
Olive did not get angry. "He is not impertinent," said she. "He knows
nothing in this world but that I once loved him, and that now he loves
me. Employer and employee are nothing to him. I don't believe he would
go if you told him to, even if you could do such a thing, which I don't
believe you would, for, of course, you would think of me as well as of
him."
"Olive Asher," cried Mrs. Easterfield in a voice which was almost a
wail, "do you mean to say that you are to be considered in this matter,
that for a moment you think of marrying this man?"
"Yes," said Olive; "I do think of it, and the more I think of it the
better I think of it. He is a good man; you have told me that yourself;
and I can feel that he is good. I know he loves me. There can be no
mistake about his words and his eyes. I feel as I never felt toward any
other man, that I might become attached to him. And in my opinion a real
attachment is the foundation of love, and you must never forget that I
once loved him." The girl now stepped close to Mrs. Easterfield. "I am
sorry to see those tears," she said; "I did not come here to make you
unhappy."
"But you have made me very unhappy," said the elder lady, "and I do not
think I can talk any more about this now."
When Olive had gone Mrs. Easterfield hurried down-stairs in search of
Lancaster. She did not care what any one might think of her
unconventional eagerness; she wanted to find him, and she soon
succeeded. He was sitting in the shade with a book, which, when she
approached him, she did not believe he was reading.
"Yes," said she, as he started to his feet in evident concern, "I have
been crying, and there is no use in trying to conceal it. Of course, it
is about Olive, but I can not confide in you now, and I do not know that
I have any right to do so, anyway. But I came here to beg you most
earnestly not to propose to Miss Asher, no matter how good an
opportunity you may have, no matter how much you want to do so, no
matter how much hope may spring up in your heart."
"Do you mean," said Dick, "that I must never speak to her? Am I too
late? Is she lost to me?"
"Not at all," said she, "you are not too late, but you may be too early.
She is not lost to anybody, but if you should speak to her before I tell
you to she will certainly be lost to you."
Read next: Chapter 20. Mr. Locker Determines To Rush The Enemy's Position
Read previous: Chapter 18. What Olive Determined To Do
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