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CHAPTER XXXIV. Miss Port puts in an Appearance
The captain clapped on his hat, and walked up the road toward Glenford.
He was very much excited and he wanted to sing, but his singing days
were over, and he quieted himself somewhat by walking rapidly. There was
a buggy coming from town, but it stopped before it reached him and some
one in it got out, while the vehicle proceeded slowly onward. The some
one waited until the captain came up to her. It was Miss Maria Port.
"How do you do?" she said, holding out her hand. "I was on my way to see
you."
The captain put both his hands in his pockets, and his face grew
somewhat dark. "Why do you want to see me?" he asked.
She looked at him steadily for a moment, and then answered, speaking
very quietly. "I found that Mr. Lancaster had arrived in town, and had
gone to your house, and that he was in such a hurry that he walked. So I
immediately hired a buggy to come out here. I am very glad I met you."
"But what in the name of common sense," exclaimed the captain, "did you
come to see me for? What difference does it make to you whether Mr.
Lancaster is here or not? What have you got to do with me and my
affairs, anyway?"
She smiled a smile which was very quiet and flat. "Now, don't get
angry," she said. "We can talk over things in a friendly way just as
well as not, and it will be a great deal better to do it. And I'd rather
talk here in the public road than anywhere else; it's more private."
"I don't want a word to say to you," said the captain, preparing to move
on. "I have nothing at all to do with you."
"Ah," said Miss Port, with another smile, "but I think you have. You've
got to marry me, you know."
Then the captain stopped suddenly. He opened his mouth, but he could
find no immediate words.
"Yes, indeed," said Miss Port, now speaking quietly; "and when I saw Mr.
Lancaster had come to town, I knew that I must see you at once. Of
course, he has come to take away your niece, and that's the best thing
to be done, for she wouldn't want to keep on livin' here where so many
people have known her. At first I thought that would be a very good
thing, for you would be separated from her, and that's what you need and
deserve. Young men are young men, and they are often a good deal kinder
than they would be if they stopped to think. But a person of mature age
is different. He would know what is due to himself and his standing in
society. At least, that is what I did think. But it suddenly flashed on
me that they might want to get away as quick as they could--which would
be proper, dear knows--and it would be just like you to go with them.
And so I came right out."
The captain had listened to all this because he very much wanted to know
what she had to say, but now he exclaimed: "Do you suppose I shall pay
any attention to all the gossip about my affairs?"
"Now, don't go on like that," said Miss Port; "it doesn't do any good,
and if you'll only keep quiet, and think pleasantly about it, there will
be no trouble at all. You know you've got to marry me; that's settled.
Everybody knows about it, and has known about it for years. I didn't
press the matter while father was alive because I knew it would worry
him. But now I'm going to do it. Not in any anger or bad feelin', but
gently, and as firmly as if I was that tree. I don't want to go to any
law, but if I have to do it, I'll do it. I've got my proofs and my
witnesses, and I'm all right. The people of your own house are
witnesses. And there are ever so many more."
"Woman!" cried the captain, "don't you say another word! And don't you
ever dare to speak to me again! I'm not going away, and my niece is not
going away; and I assure you that I hate and despise you so much that
all the law in the world couldn't make me marry you. Although you know
as well as I do that all you've been saying has no sense or truth in
it."
Miss Port did not get angry. With wonderful self-repression she
controlled her feelings. She knew that if she lost that control there
would be an end to everything. She grew pale, but she spoke more gently
than before. "You know"--she was about to say "John," but she thought
she would better not--"that what I say about determination and all
that, I simply say because you do not come to meet me half-way, as I
would have you do. All I want is to get you to acknowledge my rights, to
defend me from ridicule. You know that I am now alone in the world, and
have no one to look to but you--to whom I always expected to look when
father died--and if you should carry out your cruel words, and should
turn from me as if I was a stranger and a nobody, after all these years
of visitin' and attention from you, which everybody knows about, and has
talked about, I could never expect anybody else--you bein' gone--to step
forward--"
At this the face of the captain cleared, and as he gazed upon the
unpleasant face and figure of this weather-worn spinster, the idea that
any one with matrimonial intentions should "step forward," as she put
it, struck him as being so extremely ludicrous that he burst out
laughing.
Then leaped into fire every nervelet of Miss Maria Port. "Laugh at me,
do you?" cried she. "I'll give you something to laugh at! And if you 're
going to stand up for that thing you have in your house, that
murderess--"
She said no more. The captain stepped up to her with a smothered curse
so that she moved back, frightened. But he did nothing. He was too
enraged to speak. She was a woman, and he could not strike her to the
ground. Before her sallow venom he was helpless. He was a man and she
was a woman, and he could do nothing at all. He was too angry to stay
there another second, and, without a word, he left her, walking with
great strides toward the town.
Miss Maria Port stood looking after him, panting a little, for her
excitement had been great. Then, with a yellow light in her eyes, she
hurried toward her vehicle, which had stopped.
As Captain Asher strode into town he asked himself over and over again
what should he do? How should he punish this wildcat--this ruthless
creature, who spat venom at the one he loved best in the world, and who
threatened him with her wicked claws? In his mind he looked from side to
side for help; some one must fight his battle for him; he could not
fight a woman. He had not reached town when he thought of Mrs. Faulkner,
the wife of the Methodist minister. He knew her; she and her husband had
been among the friends who had come out to see him; and she was a woman.
He would go directly to her, and ask her advice.
The captain was not shown into the parlor of the parsonage, but into the
minister's study, that gentleman being away. He heard a great sound of
talking as he passed the parlor door, and it was not long before Mrs.
Faulkner came in. He hesitated as she greeted him.
"You have company," he said, "but can I see you for a very few minutes?
It is important."
"Of course you can," said she, closing the study door. "Our Dorcas
Society meets here to-day, but we have not yet come to order. I shall be
glad to hear what you have to say."
So they sat down, and he told her what he had to say, and as she
listened she grew very angry. When she heard the epithet which had been
applied to Olive she sprang to her feet. "The wretch!" she cried.
"Now, you see, Mrs. Faulkner," said the captain, "I can do nothing at
all myself, and there is no way to make use of the law; that would be
horrible for Olive, and it could not be done; and so I have come to ask
help of you. I don't see that any other man could do more than I could
do."
Mrs. Faulkner sat silent for a few minutes. "I am so glad you came to
me," she said presently. "I have always known Miss Port as a
scandal-monger and a mischief-maker, but I never thought of her as a
wicked woman. This persecution of you is shameful, but when I think of
your niece it is past belief! You are right, Captain Asher; it must be a
woman who must take up your cause. In fact," said she after a moment's
thought, "it must be women. Yes, sir." And as she spoke her face flushed
with enthusiasm. "I am going to take up your cause, and my friends in
there, the ladies of the Dorcas Society, will stand by me, I know. I
don't know what we shall do, but we are going to stand by you and your
niece."
Here was a friend worth having. The captain was very much affected, and
was moved with unusual gratitude. He had been used to fighting his own
battles in this world, and here was some one coming forward to fight for
him.
There came upon him a feeling that it would be a shame to let this true
lady take up a combat which she did not wholly understand. He made up
his mind in an instant that he would not care what danger might be
threatened to other people, or to trade, or to society, he would be
true to this lady, to Olive, and to himself. He would tell her the whole
story. She should know what Olive had done, and how little his poor girl
deserved the shameful treatment she had received.
Mrs. Faulkner listened with pale amazement; she trembled from head to
foot as she sat.
"And you must tell no one but your husband," said the captain. "This is
a state secret, and he must promise to keep it before you tell."
She promised everything. She would be so proud to tell her husband.
When the captain had gone, Mrs. Faulkner, in a very unusual state of
mind, went into the parlor, took the chair, and putting aside all other
business, told to the eagerly receptive members the story of Miss Port
and Captain Asher. How she had persecuted him, and maligned him, and of
the shameful way in which she had spoken of his niece. But not one word
did she tell of the story of the two gentlemen in the barouche, and of
the air-gun. She was wild to tell everything, but she was a good woman.
"Now, ladies," said Mrs. Faulkner, "in my opinion, the thing for us to
do is to go to see Maria Port; tell her what we think of her; and have
all this wickedness stopped."
Without debate it was unanimously agreed that the president's plan
should be carried out. And within ten minutes the whole Dorcas Society
of eleven members started out in double file to visit the house of Maria
Port.
Read next: Chapter 35. The Dorcas On Guard
Read previous: Chapter 33. Dick Lancaster Does Not Write
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