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CHAPTER XXVI. A Stop at the Toll-gate
The four lovers at Broadstone walked, and wandered, and waited, after
breakfast that morning, but only one of them knew definitely what he was
waiting for, and that was Mr. Locker. He was waiting for half-past
twelve o'clock, when he would join Miss Asher, if she gave him an
opportunity; and he was sure she would give him one, for she was always
to be trusted. He intended this interview to be decisive. It would not
do for him to wait any longer; yes or no must be her word. She had been
walking down by the river with the best clothes on the premises, and he
now feared the owner of those clothes more than anybody else. He was a
keen-sighted young man, for otherwise how could he have been a poet, and
he assured himself that Miss Asher was taking Hemphill seriously.
So Mr. Locker determined to charge the works of the enemy that day
before luncheon. When the conflict was over his flag might float high
and free or it might lie trampled in the dust, but the battle should be
fought, and no quarter would be asked or given.
As for Mr. Hemphill and Mr. Du Brant, they simply wandered, and waited,
and bored the rest of the company. They did not care to do anything, for
that might embarrass them in case Miss Asher appeared and wished to do
something else; they did not want to stay in the house because she might
show herself somewhere out of doors; they did not want to stay on the
grounds because at any moment she might seat herself in the library with
a book; above all things, they wanted to keep away from each other; and
their indeterminate peregrinations made sick the souls of Mr. and Mrs.
Fox.
The diplomat did not know what he was going to do when he saw Miss Asher
alone; everything would depend upon surrounding circumstances, for he
was quick as well as wary, and could make up his mind on the instant.
But good Rupert Hemphill had not even as much decision of purpose as
this. He had already spent half an hour with the lady of his love, and
he had not been very happy. Delighted that she had permitted him to join
her, he had at once begun to speak of the one great object which
dominated his existence, but she had earnestly entreated him not to do
so.
"It is such a pity," she had said, "for us never to talk of anything but
that. There are so many things I like to talk about, especially the
things of which I read. I am now reading Charles Lamb--that is, whenever
I get a chance--and I don't believe anybody in these days ever does read
the works of that dear old man. There is a complete set of his books in
the library, and they do not look as if they had ever been opened. Did
you ever read his little essays on Popular Fallacies? Some of them are
just as true as they can be, although they seem like making fun,
especially the one about the angry man being always in the wrong. I am
inclined to side with the angry man. I know I am generally right when I
am angry."
Mr. Hemphill had not read these little essays, nor had he admitted that
he had never read anything else by Mr. Lamb; but he had agreed that it
was very common to be both angry and right. Then Olive had talked to him
about other books, and his way had become very rough and exceedingly
thorny, and he had wished he knew how to bring up the subject of some
new figures in the German. But he had not succeeded in doing this. She
had been in a bookish mood, and the mood had lasted until she had left
him.
Now he began to think that it would be better for him to give up
wandering and waiting and go into the library and prepare himself for
another talk with Olive, but he did not go; she might see him and
suspect his design. He would wait until later. He took some books to his
room.
Dick Lancaster wandered and waited, but he was full of a purpose,
although it was not exactly definite; he wanted to find Mrs. Easterfield
and ask her to release him from his promise. He could not remain much
longer at Broadstone, and Olive's morning walk with Hemphill had made
him very nervous. She knew that these young men were in love with her,
and he had a right to let her know that he was also. It might be
imprudent for him to do this, but he could not see why it would not be
as imprudent at any other time as now. Moreover, there might come no
other time, and he had control of now.
Mrs. Easterfield had not joined her guests because of her anxiety about
Olive. Mr. Easterfield did not appear. For a time he was very
particularly engaged in the garden. Mr. Fox grew very much irritated.
"I tell you, my dear," said he, "every one who comes here makes this
place more stupid and dull. I can't see exactly any reason for it, but
these lovers are at the bottom of it. I hate lovers."
"You should be very glad, my dear," replied Mrs. Fox, "that I was not of
your opinion in my early life."
But things changed for the better after a time. It is true that Mrs.
Easterfield and Olive did not appear, but Mr. Easterfield showed
himself, and did it with great advantage. The simple statement that his
wife and Miss Asher had gone to make a call caused a feeling of relief
to spread over the whole party. Until the callers returned there was no
reason why they should not all enjoy themselves, and Mr. Easterfield was
there to show them how to do it.
As the Broadstone carriage rolled swiftly on there was not much
conversation between its occupants. To the somewhat sensitive mind of
Mrs. Easterfield it seemed that Olive was a little disappointed at the
change of companions, but this may have been a mere fancy. The girl was
so wrapped up in self-concentrated thought that it was not likely that
she would have talked much to any one. Suddenly, however, Olive broke
out:
"Mr. Easterfield must be a thoroughly good man" she said.
"He is," assented the other.
"And you have always been entirely satisfied with him?"
"Entirely," was the reply, without a smile.
Now Olive turned her face toward her companion and laid her hand upon
her arm. "You ought to be a happy woman," she said.
"Now, what is this girl thinking of?" asked Mrs. Easterfield to herself.
"Is she imagining that any one of the young fellows who are now
besieging her can ever be to her what Tom is to me? Or is she making an
ideal of my husband to the disparagement of her own lovers? Whichever
way she thinks, she would better give up thinking."
But the somewhat sensitive Mrs. Easterfield need not have troubled
herself. The girl had already forgotten the good Mr. Tom, and her mind
was intent upon getting to her uncle.
"Will you please ask the man to stop," she said, "before he gets to the
gate, and let me out? Then perhaps you will kindly drive on to the
tollhouse and wait for me. I will not keep you waiting long."
The carriage stopped, and Olive slipped out, and, before Mrs.
Easterfield had any idea of what she was going to do, the girl climbed
the rail fence which separated the road from the captain's pasture
field. Between this field and the garden was a picket fence, not very
high; and, toward a point about midway between the little tollhouse and
the dwelling, Olive now ran swiftly. When she had nearly reached the
fence she gave a great bound; put one foot on the upper rail to which
the pickets were nailed; and then went over. What would have happened if
the sharp pales had caught her skirts might well be imagined. But
nothing happened.
"That was a fine spring" said Mrs. Easterfield to herself. "She has
seen him in the house, and wants to get there before he hears the
carriage."
Olive walked quietly through the garden to the house. She knew that her
uncle was not at the gate, for from afar she had seen that the little
piazza on which he was wont to sit was empty. She went noiselessly into
the hall, and looked into the parlor. By a window in the back of the
room she saw her uncle writing at a little table. With a rush of air she
was at his side before he knew she was in the room. As he turned his
head her arms were around his neck, and the pen in his hand made a great
splotch of ink upon her white summer dress.
"Now, uncle," she exclaimed, looking into his astonished face, "here I
am and here I am going to stay! And if you want to know anything more
about it, you will have to wait, for I am not going to make any
explanations now. I am too happy to know that I have a dear uncle left
to me in this world, and to know that we two are going to live together
always to want to talk about whys and wherefores."
"But, Olive" exclaimed the captain.
"There are no buts," she interrupted. "Not a single but, my dear Uncle
John! I have come back to stay with you, and that is all there is about
it. Mrs. Easterfield is outside in her carriage, and I must go and send
her away. But don't you come out, Uncle John; I have some things to say
to her, and I will let you know when she is going."
As Olive sped out of the room Captain Asher turned around in his chair
and looked after her. Tears were running down his swarthy cheeks. He
did not know how or why it had all happened. He only knew that Olive was
coming back to live with him!
Meantime old Jane was entertaining Mrs. Easterfield at the toll-gate,
where no money was paid, but a great deal of information gained. The old
woman had seen Miss Olive run into the house, and she was elated and
excited, and consequently voluble. Mrs. Easterfield got the full account
of the one-sided courtship of the captain and Miss Port. Even the
concluding episode of Maria having been put to bed had somehow reached
the ears of old Jane. It is really wonderful how secret things do become
known, for not one of the three actors in that scene would have told it
on any account. But old Jane knew it, and told it with great glee, to
Mrs. Easterfield's intense enjoyment. Then she proceeded to praise Olive
for the spirit she had shown under these trying circumstances; and, in
this connection, naturally there came into the recital the spirit the
old woman herself had shown under these same trying circumstances, and
how she had got all ready to leave the minute the nuptial knot was tied
and before that Maria Port could reach the toll-gate, although it was
like tearing herself apart to leave the spot where she had lived so many
years. "But," she concluded, "it is all right now. The captain tells me
it's all a lie of her own makin'. She's good at that business, and if
lies was salable she'd be rich."
Just as the old woman reached this, what seemed to her unsophisticated
mind, impossible business proposition, Olive appeared. Mrs. Easterfield
was surprised to see her so soon, and, to tell the truth, a little
disappointed. She had been greatly interested and amused by the old
woman's rapid tale, which she would not interrupt, but had put aside in
her mind several questions to ask, and one of them was in relation to
her husband's late visit to the captain. She had had no detailed account
from him, and she wondered how much this old body knew about it. She
seemed to know pretty much everything. But Olive's appearance put an end
to this absorbing conversation.
"Has you come to stay, dearie?" eagerly asked old Jane, as Olive grasped
her hand.
"To be sure I have, Jane! I have come to stay forever!"
"Thank goodness!" exclaimed the old woman. "How the captain will
brighten up! But my! I must go and alter the supper!"
"Mrs. Easterfield," said Olive, when the old woman had departed, "you
will have to go back without me. I can not leave my uncle, and I am
going to stay here right along. You must not think I am ungrateful to
you, or unmindful of Mr. Easterfield's great kindness, but this is my
place for the present. Some day I know you will be good enough to let me
pay you another visit."
"And what am I to do with all those young men?" asked Mrs. Easterfield
mischievously. She would have added, "And one of them your future
husband?" But she remembered the coachman.
Olive laughed. "They will annoy you less when I am not there. If you
will be so good as to ask your maid to pack up my belongings, I will
send for my trunk." She glanced at the coachman. "Would you mind taking
a little walk with me along the road?"
"I shall be glad to do so," said Mrs. Easterfield, getting out of the
carriage.
"Now, my dear Mrs. Easterfield," said Olive when they were some distance
from the toll-gate and the house, "I am going to ask you to add to all
your kindness one more favor for me."
"That has such an ominous sound," said Mrs. Easterfield, "that I am not
disposed to promise beforehand."
"It is about those three young men you mentioned."
"I mentioned no number, and there are four."
"In what I am going to ask of you one of them can be counted out. He is
not in the affair. Only three are in this business. Won't you be so good
as to decline them all for me? I know that you can do it better than I
can. You have so much tact. And you must have done the thing many a
time, and I have not done it once. I am very awkward; I don't know how;
and, to confess the truth, I have put myself into a pretty bad fix."
"Upon my word," cried Mrs. Easterfield, "that is a pretty thing for one
woman to ask of another!
"I know it is," said Olive, "and I would not ask it of anybody but the
truest friend--of no one but you. But you see how difficult it is for me
to attend to it. And it must be done. I have given up all idea of
marrying, I am going to stay here, and when my father comes with his
young lady he will find me settled and fixed, and he and she will have
nothing to do with making plans for me. Now, dear Mrs. Easterfield, I
know you will do this favor for me, and let me say that I wish you would
be particularly gentle and pleasant in speaking to Mr. Locker. I think
he is really a very kind and considerate young man. He certainly showed
himself that way. I know you can talk so nicely to him that perhaps he
will not mind very much. As for Mr. Du Brant, you can tell him plainly
that I have carefully considered his proposition--and that is the exact
truth--and that I find it will be wise for me not to accept it. He is a
man of affairs, and will understand that I have given him a
straightforward, practical answer, and he will be satisfied. You must
not be sharp with Mr. Hemphill, as I know you will be inclined to be.
Please remember that I was once in love with him, and respect my
feelings as well as his. Besides, he is good, and he is in earnest, and
he deserves fair treatment. I am sorry that I have worried you about
him, and I will tell you now that I have found out he would not do at
all. I found it out this morning when I was talking to him about books.
His mind is neither broad nor cultivated."
"I could have told you that," said Mrs. Easterfield, "and saved you all
the trouble of taking that walk by the river."
"And then there is one more thing," continued Olive; "it is about
Professor Lancaster. I am sure you will agree with me that it will not
do for him to come back here. I am just going to start housekeeping
again. I've got the supper on my mind this minute. You can't imagine how
everything has turned topsy-turvy since I left. I suppose he will be
wanting to go North, anyway. In fact, he told me so."
Mrs. Easterfield laughed. She did not believe that Mr. Lancaster would
want to go North, or West, or East, although South might suit him. But
she saw the point of Olive's request; it would be awkward to have him at
the tollhouse.
"Oh, I will take care of him," she said, "and he shall continue his
vacation trip just as soon as Mr. Easterfield and I choose to give him
up."
"You see," said Olive in an explanatory way, "I have not anything in the
world to do with him, but I thought he might want to come back to see
uncle again. And, really," she added, speaking with a great deal of
earnestness, "I don't want to be bothered with any more young men! And
now I will call uncle. You know I had to say all these things to you
immediately."
Mrs. Easterfield walked quickly back to her carriage, but she did not
wait to see Captain Asher. As a hostess it was necessary for her to
hurry back home; and as a quick-witted, sensible woman she saw that it
would be well to leave these two happy people to themselves. This was
not the time for them to talk to her. So, when the captain, unwilling to
wait any longer, appeared at the door of the house, these two dear
friends had kissed and parted, and the carriage was speeding away.
On her way home Mrs. Easterfield forgot her slight chagrin at what her
husband had not done, in her joy at what he had accomplished. He had
neglected to take her fully into his confidence, and had acted very much
as if he had been a naval commander, who had cut his telegraphic
connections in order not to be embarrassed by orders from the home
government. But, on the other hand, he had saved her from the terrible
shock of hearing Olive declare that she had just engaged herself to
Rupert Hemphill. If it had not been for the extraordinary promptness of
her good Tom--a style of action he had acquired in the railroad
business--it would have been just as likely as not that Olive would have
accepted that young man before she had had an opportunity of finding out
his want of breadth and cultivation.
Read next: Chapter 27. By Proxy
Read previous: Chapter 25. The Captain And Mr. Tom
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