Chapter IV: In the Beech Woods

Herbert Dunallen had waited there a long time, as he thought, and he began to grow impatient. What business had Anna to stay with that old fellow, if she did not mean to have him, and of course she did not. It would be a most preposterous piece of business for a girl like Anna to throw herself away upon such as Adam Floyd, carpenter by trade, and general repairer of things at Castlewild. Whew-ew! and Herbert whistled contemptuously, adding in a low voice, “and yet my lady mother would raise a beautiful rumpus if she knew I was about to make this little village rustic her daughter-in-law. For I am; if there’s one redeeming trait in my character, it’s being honorable in my intentions toward Anna. Most men in my position would only trifle with her, particularly when there was in the background a Mildred Atherton, dreadfully in love with them. I wonder what makes all the girls admire me so?” and the vain young man stroked his mustache complacently, just as a rapid footstep sounded near.

It was Anna’s, and the next moment he held her in his arms. But she would not suffer him to keep her there, and with a quiet dignity which for an instant startled him beyond the power to speak or act, she put his arm away, and standing apart from him, told him of her resolution, and reproached him with his duplicity, asking him how he could tell Adam that he was about to be married.

“Because I am,” he replied. “I am not to blame for his believing silly little Milly to be the bride elect. Won’t it be famous, though, for you to order round your former lover? I’ve engaged him for a long job, and you ought to have seen how glad he was of the work, thinking, of course, how much he should earn for you. I came near laughing in his face when he hoped I should be as happy with Miss Mildred as he expected to be with you.”

“You shan’t speak so of Adam Floyd!” and Anna’s little foot beat the ground impatiently, while indignant tears glittered in her blue eyes as she again reiterated that Adam Floyd should be her husband.

“Not while I live!” Herbert responded almost fiercely, for he saw in her manner a determination he had never witnessed before.

As well as he was capable of doing he loved Anna Burroughs, and the fact that she was pledged to another added fuel to the flame.

“What new freak has taken my fickle goddess?” he asked, looking down upon her with a mocking sneer about his mouth as she told him why she could not go with him.

He knew she was in earnest at last, and, dropping his jesting tone, he made her sit down beside him, while he used every possible argument to dissuade her from her purpose, working first upon her pride, flattering her vanity, portraying the happiness of a tour through Europe, a winter in Paris, and lastly touching upon the advantages of being lady supreme at Castlewild, with a house in the city, for winter. And as changeable, ambitious, Anna listened, she felt her resolution giving way, felt the ground which she had taken slipping from beneath her feet without one effort to save herself.

“It seems terrible to wrong Adam,” she said, and, by the tone of her voice, Herbert knew the victory was two thirds won.

“Adam will do well enough,” he replied. “People like him never die of broken hearts! He’s a good fellow, but not the one for you; besides, you know he’s what they call pious, just like Milly; and, I presume, he’ll say it was not so wicked for you to cheat him as to perjure yourself, as you surely would, by promising to love and honor and all that when you didn’t feel a bit of it!”

“What was that you said of Miss Atherton?” Anna asked eagerly, for she had caught the word pious, and it made her heart throb with pain, for she knew that Herbert Dunallen could not say as much of her!

Once, indeed, it had been otherwise, but that was before she had met him in the woods,—before she ceased to pray. Oh, that happy time when she had dared to pray! How she wished it would come back to her again; but it had drifted far away, and left a void as black as the night closing around her or the heavy thunder clouds rolling above her head.

Tightly her hands clenched each other as Herbert answered jestingly.

“She’s one of the religious ones, Milly is; writes me such good letters. I’ve one of them in my pocket now. She’s coming to see me; is actually on the way, so to-morrow night, or never, my bride you must be.”

“Miss Atherton coming here! What do you mean?” Anna asked, and Herbert replied,

“I mean, Mildred has always been in a fever to see Castlewild, and as she is intimate with Mrs. Judge Harcourt’s family, she is coming there on a visit. Will arrive to-morrow, her note said; and will expect to see me immediately after her arrival.”

Herbert’s influence over Anna was too great for her to attempt to stop him, so she offered no remonstrance, when he continued!

“I suppose Milly will cry a little, for I do believe she likes me, and always has; but I can’t help it. The match was agreed upon by our families when she was twelve and I fifteen. Of course I’m awfully sick of it, and have been ever since I knew you,” and Herbert’s lips touched the white brow where only half an hour before Adam Floyd’s had been.

Thicker, and blacker, grew the darkness around them, while the thunder was louder and nearer, and still they sat together, Anna hesitating, while Herbert urged upon her the necessity of going with him the following night, if ever.

Mildred in the neighborhood would be as formidable an obstacle to him as Adam was to Anna, while he feared the result of another interview between the affianced pair. With all his love for Anna he was not blind to the fact that the last one with whom she talked had the better chance of eventually winning. He could not lose her now, and he redoubled his powers of persuasion, until, forgetting everything, save the handsome youth beside her, the wealthy heir of Castlewild, Anna said to him,

“I will meet you at our gate when the village clock strikes one!” and as she said the words the woods were lighted up by a flash of lightning so fearfully bright and blinding that with a scream of terror she hid her face in her lap and stopped her ears to shut out the deafening roll of the thunder. The storm had burst in all its fury, and hurrying from the woods, Herbert half carried, half led the frightened Anna across the fields in the direction of her father’s door. Depositing her at the gate, he paused for an instant to whisper his parting words and then hastened rapidly on.

On the kitchen hearth a cheerful wood fire had been kindled, and making some faint excuse for having been out in the storm, Anna repaired thither, and standing before the blaze was drying her dripping garments, when a voice from the adjoining room made her start and tremble, for she knew that it was Adam’s.

He seemed to be excited and was asking for her. An accident had occurred just before his door. Frightened by the lightning which Anna remembered so well, a pair of spirited horses had upset a traveling carriage, in which was a young lady and her maid. The latter had sustained no injury, but the lady’s ankle was sprained, and she was otherwise so lamed and bruised that it was impossible for her to proceed any farther that night. So he had carried her into his cottage and dispatching the driver for the physician had come himself for Anna as the suitable person to play the hostess in his home.

“Oh, I can’t go,—mother, you!” Anna exclaimed, shrinking in terror from again crossing the threshold of the home she was about to make so desolate.

But Adam preferred Anna. The lady was young, he said, and it seemed to him more appropriate that Anna should attend her. Mrs. Burroughs thought so, too, and, with a sinking heart, Anna prepared herself for a second visit to the cottage. In her excitement she forgot entirely to ask the name of the stranger, and as she was not disposed to talk, nothing was said of the lady until the cottage was reached and she was ushered into the dining-room, where old Martha and a smart looking servant were busy with the bandages and hot water preparing for the invalid who had been carried to the pleasant bed-room opening from the parlor.