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CHAPTER XXXIII. Dick Lancaster does not Write
On the third morning after their arrival at the toll-gate the captain
and Olive ventured upon a little walk over the farm. It was very hard
upon both of them to be shut up in the house so long. They saw no
reporters, nor were there any men with cameras, but the scenery was not
pleasant, nor was the air particularly exhilarating. They were not
happy; they felt alone, as if they were in a strange place. Some of the
captain's friends in the town came to the toll-gate, but there were not
many, and Olive saw none of them. The whole situation reminded the girl
of the death of her mother.
As soon as it was known that the Ashers were at home there came letters
from many quarters. One of these was from Mrs. Easterfield. She would be
at Broadstone as soon as she could get her children started from the
seashore. She longed to take Olive to her heart, but whether this was in
commiseration or commendation was not quite plain to Olive. The letter
concluded with this sentence: "There is something behind all this, and
when I come you must tell me."
Then there was one from her father in which he bemoaned what had
happened. "That such a thing should have come to my daughter!" he
wrote. "To my daughter!" There was a great deal more of it, but he said
nothing about coming with his young wife to the toll-gate, and Olive's
countenance was almost stern when she handed this letter to her uncle.
Claude Locker wrote:
"How I long, how I rage to write to you, or to go to you! But if I
should write, it would be sure to give you pain, and if I should go
to you I should also go crazy. Therefore, I will merely state that
I love you madly; more now than ever before; and that I shall
continue to do so for the rest of my life, no matter what happens
to you, or to me, or to anybody.
"Ever turned toward you,
"CLAUDE LOCKER.
"How I wish I had been there with a sledgehammer!"
And then there were the newspapers. Many of these the captain had
ordered by the Glenford bookseller, and a number were sent by friends,
and some even by strangers. And so they learned what was thought of them
over a wide range of country, and this publicity Olive found very hard
to bear. It was even worse than the deed she was forced to do, and which
gave rise to all this disagreeable publicity. That deed was done in the
twinkling of an eye, and was the only thing that could be done; but all
this was prolonged torture. Of course, the newspapers were not
responsible for this. The transaction was a public one in as public a
place as could possibly be selected, and it was clearly their duty to
give the public full information in regard to it. They knew what had
happened, and how could they possibly know what had not happened? Nor
could they guess that this was of more importance than the happening.
And so they all viewed the action from the point of view that a young
woman had blown out a man's brains on the steps of the Treasury. It was
a most unusual, exciting, and tragic incident, and in a measure,
incomprehensible; and coming at a time when there was a dearth of news,
it was naturally much exploited. Many of the papers recognized the fact
that Miss Asher had done this deed to save her uncle's life, and
applauded it, and praised her quick-wittedness and courage; but all this
was spoiled for Olive by the tone of commiseration for her in which it
was all stated. She did not see why she should be pitied. Rather should
she be congratulated that she was, fortunately, on the spot. Other
journals did not so readily give in to the opinion that it was an act of
self-defense. It might be so; but they expressed strong disapproval of
the legal action in this strange affair. A young woman, accompanied by a
relative, had killed an unknown man. The action of the authorities in
this case had been rapid and unsatisfactory. The person who had fired
the fatal shot and her companion had been cleared of guilt upon their
own testimony, and the cause of the man who died had no one to defend
it. If two persons can kill a man, and then state to the coroner's jury
that it was all right, and thereupon repair to their homes without
further interference by the law, then had the cause of justice in the
capital of the nation reached a very strange pass.
Such were the views of the reputable journals. But there were some
which fell into the captain's hands that were well calculated to arouse
his ire. Such a sensational occurrence did not often come in their way,
and they made the most of it. They scented the idea that the girl had
killed an unknown man to save her uncle's life; blamed the authorities
severely for not finding out who he was; suggested there must be a
secret reason for this; and hinted darkly at a scandal connected with
the affair, which, if investigated, would be found to include some
well-known names.
"This is outrageous!" cried the captain. "It is too abominable to be
borne! Olive, why should we not tell the exact facts of this thing? We
did agree--very willingly at the time--to keep the secret. But I am not
willing now, and you are being sacrificed to the stock-market. That is
the whole truth of it! If these editors knew the truth they would be
chanting your praises. If that scoundrel had killed me, he would have
killed you, and then he could have run away to go on with his President
shooting. I am going to Washington this very day to tell the whole
story. You shall not suffer that stocks may not fall and the political
situation made alarming at election time. That is what it all means, and
I won't stand it!"
"You will only make things worse, uncle," said Olive. "Then the whole
matter will be stirred up afresh. We will be summoned to investigations,
and all sorts of disagreeable things. Every item of our lives will be in
the papers, and some will be invented. It is very bad now, but in a
little while the public will forget that a countryman and a country girl
had a fracas in Washington. But the other thing will never be
forgotten. It is very much better to leave it as it is."
The captain, notwithstanding the presence of a lady, cursed the
officials, the newspapers, the Government, and the whole country. "I am
going to do it!" he cried vehemently. "I don't care what happens!"
But Olive put her arms around him and coaxed him for her sake to let the
matter rest. And, finally, the captain, grumblingly, assented.
If Olive had been a girl brought up in a gentle-minded household,
knowing nothing of the varied life she had lived when a navy girl;
sometimes at this school and sometimes at that; sometimes in her native
land, and sometimes in the midst of frontier life; sometimes with
parents, and sometimes without them; and, had she been less aware from
her own experiences and those of others, that this is a world in which
you must stand up very stiffly if you do not want to be pushed down; she
might have sunk, at least for a time, under all this publicity and
blame. Even the praise had its sting.
But she did not sink. The liveliness and the fun went out of her, and
her face grew hard and her manner quiet. But she was not quiet within.
She rebelled against the unfairness with which she was treated. No
matter what the newspapers knew or did not know, they should have known,
and should have remembered, that she had saved her uncle's life. If they
had known more they would have been just and kind enough no doubt, but
they ought to have been just and kind without knowing more.
Captain Asher would now read no more papers. But Olive read them all.
Letters still came; one of them from Mr. Easterfield. But every time a
mail arrived there was a disappointment in the toll-gate household. The
captain could scarcely refrain from speaking of his disappointment, for
it was a true grief to him that Dick Lancaster had not written a word.
Of course, Olive did not say anything upon the subject, for she had no
right to expect such a letter, and she was not sure that she wanted one,
but it was very strange that a person who surely was, or had been,
somewhat interested in her uncle and herself should have been the only
one among her recent associates who showed no interest whatever in what
had befallen her. Even Mr. and Mrs. Fox had written. She wished they had
not written, but, after all, stupidity is sometimes better than total
neglect.
"Olive," said the captain one pleasant afternoon, "suppose we take a
drive to Broadstone? The family is not there, but it may interest you to
see the place where I hope your friends will soon be living again. I can
not bear to see you going about so dolefully. I want to brighten you up
in some way."
"I'd like it," said Olive promptly. "Let us go to Broadstone."
At that moment they heard talking in the tollhouse; then there were some
quick steps in the garden; and, almost immediately, Dick Lancaster was
in the house and in the room where the captain and his niece were
sitting. He stepped quickly toward them as they rose, and gave Olive
his left hand because the captain had seized his right and would not let
it go.
"I have been very slow getting here," he said, looking from one to the
other. "But I would not write, and I have been unconscionably delayed. I
am so proud of you," he said, looking Olive full in the face, but still
holding the captain by the hand.
Olive's hand had been withdrawn, but it was very cheering to her to know
that some one was proud of her.
The captain poured out his delight at seeing the young professor--the
first near friend he had seen since his adventure, and, in his opinion,
the best. Olive said but little, but her countenance brightened
wonderfully. She had always liked Mr. Lancaster, and now he showed his
good sense and good feeling; for, while it was evidently on his mind, he
made no allusion to anything they had done, or that had happened to
them. He talked chiefly of himself.
But the captain was not to be repressed, and his tone warmed up a little
as he asked if Dick had been reading the newspapers.
At this Olive left the room to make some arrangements for Mr.
Lancaster's accommodation.
Seizing this opportunity, Dick Lancaster stopped the captain, who he saw
was preparing to go lengthily into the recent affair. "Yes, yes," he
said, speaking quickly, "and my blood has run hot as I read those
beastly papers. But let me say something to you while I can. I am deeply
interested in something else just now. I came here, captain, to propose
marriage to your niece. Have I your consent?"
"Consent!" cried the captain. "Why, it is the clearest wish of my heart
that you should marry Olive!" And seizing the young man by both arms, he
shook him from head to foot. "Consent!" he exclaimed. "I should think
so, I should think so! Will she take you, Dick? Is that--"
"I don't know," said Lancaster, "I don't know. I am here to find out.
But I hear her coming."
The happy captain thought it full time to go away somewhere. He felt
that he could not control his glowing countenance, and that he might say
or do something which might be wrong. So he departed with great
alacrity, and left the two young people to themselves.
Read next: Chapter 34. Miss Port Puts In An Appearance
Read previous: Chapter 32. The Stock-Market Is Safe
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