Chapter VI: Part 6

She instantly ran out to meet him, asking him somewhat sharply why he had disappointed them. She had kept the supper waiting ever so long. He went in to see her father, who was sitting up for him, and she busied herself in getting him a fresh supper. Nice and hot the supper was, and although his answers to her questions had not been satisfactory, she concealed her resentment, if she had any. When the meal was over both father and daughter assured him that it was too late for him to go home that night, and that he must stay with them. Tired and troubled, Captain Asher accepted the invitation.

As soon as he could get away from the Port residence the next morning Captain Asher went home. He had hoped he would have been able to leave before breakfast, but the solicitous Maria would not listen to this. She prepared him a most tempting breakfast, cooking some of the things with her own hands, and she was so attentive, so anxious to please, so kind in her suggestions, and in every way so desirous to make him happy through the medium of savory food and tender-hearted concern, that she almost made him angry. Never before, he thought, had he seen a woman make such a coddling fool of herself. He knew very well what it meant, and that provoked him still more.

When at last he got away he walked home in a bad humor; he was even annoyed with Olive. Granting that what she had done was natural enough under the circumstances, and that she had not wished to stop when she saw him in company with a woman she did not like, he thought she might have considered him as well as herself. She should have known that it would give him great trouble for her to dash by in that way and neither stop nor come back to explain matters. She must have known that Maria Port was not going to stay always, and she might have waited somewhere until the woman had gone. If she had had the least idea of how much he wanted to see her she would have contrived some way to come back to him. But no, she went back to Broadstone to please herself, and left him to wander up and down the roads looking for her in the dark.

When the captain met old Jane at the door of the tollhouse her salutation did not smooth his ruffled spirits, for she told him that she and Mr. Lancaster had sat up until nearly the middle of the night waiting for him, and that the poor young man must have felt it, for he had not eaten half a breakfast.

The captain paid but little attention to these remarks and passed in, but before he crossed the garden he met Dick, who informed him that he had something very important to communicate. Important communications that must be delivered without a moment's loss of time are generally unpleasant, and knowing this, the captain knit his brows a little, but told Dick he would be ready for him as soon as he lighted his pipe. He felt he must have something to soothe his ruffled spirits while he listened to the tale of the woes of some one else.

But at the moment he scratched his match to light his pipe his soul was illuminated by a flash of joy; perhaps Dick was going to tell him he was engaged to Olive; perhaps that was what she had come to tell him the day before. He had not expected to hear anything of this kind, at least not so soon, but it had been the wish of his heart--he now knew that without appreciating the fact--it had been the earnest wish of his heart for some time, and he stepped toward the little arbor with the alacrity of happy anticipation.

As soon as they were seated Dick began to speak of Olive, but not in the way the captain had hoped for. He mentioned the great trouble into which she had been plunged, and gave the captain his brother's letter to read. When he had finished it the captain's face darkened, and his frown was heavy.

"An outrageous piece of business," he said, "to treat a daughter in this way; to put a schoolmate over her head in the family! It is shameful! And this is what she was coming to tell me?"

"Yes," said Dick, "that is it."

Now there was another flash of joy in the captain's heart, which cleared up his countenance and made his frown disappear. "She was coming to me," he thought. "I was the one to whom she turned in her trouble." And it seemed to this good captain as if he had suddenly become the father of a grown-up daughter.

"But what message did she send me?" he asked quickly. "Did she say when she was coming again?"

Dick hesitated; Olive had said that she wanted her uncle to say when he wanted to see her, so that there should be no more surprising, but this request had been conditional. Dick knew that she did not want to come if her uncle were going to marry Miss Port; therefore it was that he hesitated.

"Before we go any further," he said, "I think I would better mention a little thing which will make you laugh, but still it did worry Miss Asher, and was one reason why she went back to Broadstone without stopping."

"What is it" asked the captain, putting down his pipe.

Dick did not come out plainly and frankly, as he had told Olive he would do when he mentioned the Maria Port matter. In his own heart he could not help believing now that Olive's suspicions had had good foundations, and old Jane's announcements, combined with the captain's own actions in regard to the Port family, had almost convinced him that this miserable engagement was a fact. But, of course, he would not in any way intimate to the captain that he believed in such nonsense, and therefore, in an offhand manner, he mentioned Olive's absurd anxiety in regard to Miss Port.

When the captain heard Dick's statement he answered it in the most frank and plain manner; he brought his big hand down on his knee and swore as if one of his crew had boldly contradicted him. He did not swear at anybody in particular; there was the roar and the crash of the thunder and the flash of the lightning, but no direct stroke descended upon any one. He was angry that such a repulsive and offensive thing as his marriage to Maria Port should be mentioned, or even thought of, but he was enraged when he heard that his niece had believed him capable of such disgusting insanity. With a jerk he rose to his feet.

"I will not talk about such a thing as this," he said. "If I did I am sure I should say something hard about my niece, and I don't want to do that." With this he strode away, and proceeded to look after the concerns of his little farm.

Old Jane came cautiously to Dick. "Did he tell you when it was going to be, or anything about it?" she asked.

"No," said Dick, "he would not even speak of it."

"I suppose he expects us to mind our own business," said she, "and of course we'll have to do it, but I can tell him one thing--I'm goin' to make it my business to leave this place the day before that woman comes here."

Dejected and thoughtful, Dick sat in the arbor. Here was a state of affairs very different from what he had anticipated. He had not been able to hurry to her the evening before; he had not gone to breakfast as she had invited him; he had not started off early in the forenoon; and now he asked himself when should he go, or, indeed, why should he go at all? She had no anxieties he could relieve. Anything he could tell her would only heap more unhappiness upon her, and the longer he could keep his news from her the better it would be for her.

Olive had not joined the Broadstone party at dinner the night before. She had been too tired, and had gone directly to her room, where, after a time, Mrs. Easterfield joined her; and the two talked late. One who had overheard their conversation might well have supposed that the elder lady was as much interested in Lieutenant Asher's approaching nuptials as was the younger one. When she was leaving Mrs. Easterfield said:

"You have enough on your mind to give it all the trouble it ought to bear, and so I beg of you not to think for a moment of that absurd idea about your uncle's engagement. I never saw the woman, but I have heard of her; she is a professional scandal-monger; and Captain Asher would not think for a moment of marrying her. When Mr. Lancaster comes to-morrow you will hear that she was merely consulting him on business, and that you are to go to the toll-gate to-morrow as soon as you can. But remember, this time I am going to send you in the carriage. No more bicycles."

In spite of this well-intentioned admonition, Olive did not sleep well, and dreamed all night of Miss Port in the shape of a great cat covered with feathers like a chicken, and trying to get a chance to jump at her. Very early she awoke, and looking at her clock, she began to calculate the hours which must pass before Mr. Lancaster could arrive. It was rather strange that of the two troubles which came to her as soon as she opened her eyes, the suspected engagement of her uncle pushed itself in front of the actual engagement of her father; the one was something she _knew_ she would have to make up her mind to bear; the other was something she _feared_ she would have to make up her mind to bear.

_CHAPTER XVIII_

_What Olive determined to do._

Olive was very much disappointed at breakfast time, and as soon as she had finished that meal she stationed herself at a point on the grounds which commanded the entrance. People came and talked to her, but she did not encourage conversation, and about eleven o'clock she went to Mrs. Easterfield in her room.

"He is not coming," she said. "He is afraid."

"What is he afraid of?" asked Mrs. Easterfield.

"He is afraid to tell me that the optimistic speculations with which he tried to soothe my mind arose entirely from his own imagination. The whole thing is exactly what I expected, and he hasn't the courage to come and say so. Now, really, don't you think this is the state of the case, and that if he had anything but the worst news to bring me he would have been here long ago?"

Mrs. Easterfield looked very serious. "I would not give up," she said, "until I saw Mr. Lancaster and heard what he has to say."

"That would not suit me," said Olive. "I have waited and waited just as long as I can. It is as likely as not that he has concluded that he can not do anything here which will be of service to any one, and has started off to finish his vacation at some place where people won't bother him with their own affairs. He told me when I first met him that he was on his way North. And now, would you like me to tell you what I have determined to do?"

"I would," said Mrs. Easterfield, but her expression did not indicate that she expected Olive's announcement to give her any pleasure.

"I have been considering it all the morning," said Olive, "and I have determined to marry without delay. The greatest object of my life at present is to write to my father that I am married. I don't wish to tell him anything until I can tell him that. I would also be glad to be able to send the same message to the toll-gate house, but I don't suppose it will make much difference there."

"Do you think," said Mrs. Easterfield, "that my inviting you here made all this trouble?"

"No," said Olive. "It was not the immediate cause, but uncle knows I do not like that woman, and she doesn't like me, and it would not have suited him to have me stay very much longer with him. I thought at first he was glad to have me go on account of Mr. Lancaster, but now I do not believe that had anything to do with it. He did not want me with him, and what that woman came here and told me about his not expecting me back again was, I now believe, a roundabout message from him."

"Now, Olive," said Mrs. Easterfield, "it would be a great deal better for you to stop all this imagining until you hear from Mr. Lancaster, if you don't see him. Perhaps the poor young man has sprained his ankle, or was prevented in some ordinary way from coming. But what is this nonsense about getting married?"

"There is no nonsense about it," said Olive. "I am going to marry, but I have not chosen any one yet."

Mrs. Easterfield uttered an exclamation of horror. "Choose!" she exclaimed. "What have you to do with choosing? I don't think you are much like other girls, but I did think you had enough womanly qualities to make you wait until you are chosen."

"I intend to wait until I am chosen," said Olive, "but I shall choose the person who is to choose me. I have always thought it absurd for a young woman to sit and wait and wait until some one comes and sees fit to propose to her. Even under ordinary circumstances, I think the young woman has not a fair chance to get what she wants. But my case is extraordinary, and I can't afford to wait; and as I don't want to go out into the world to look for a husband, I am going to take one of these young men here."

"Olive," cried Mrs. Easterfield, "you don't mean you are going to marry Mr. Locker?"

"You forget," said Olive, "that I told you I have not made up my mind yet. But although I have not come to a decision, I have a leaning toward one of them. The more I think of it the more I incline in the direction of my old love."

"Mr. Hemphill!" exclaimed Mrs. Easterfield. "Olive, you are crazy, or else you are joking in a very disagreeable manner. There could be no one more unfit for you than he is."

"I am not crazy, and I am not joking," replied the girl, "and I think Rupert would suit me very well. You see, I think a great deal more of Rupert than I do of Mr. Hemphill, although the latter gentleman has excellent points. He is commonplace, and, above everything else, I want a commonplace husband. I want some one to soothe me, and quiet me, and to give me ballast. If there is anything out of the way to be done I want to do it myself. I am sure he is in love with me, for his anxious efforts to make me believe that the frank avowal of my early affection had no effect upon him proves that he was very much affected. I believe that he is truly in love with me."

Mrs. Easterfield's sharp eyes had seen this, and she had nothing to say.

"I believe," continued Olive, "that a retrospect love will be a better foundation for conjugal happiness than any other sort of affection. One can always look back to it no matter what happens, and be happy in the memory of it. It would be something distinct which could never be interfered with. You can't imagine what an earnest and absorbing love I once had for that man!"

Mrs. Easterfield sprang to her feet. "Olive Asher," she cried, "I can't listen to you if you talk in this way!"

"Well, then," said Olive, "if you object so much to Rupert--you must not forget that it would be Rupert that I would really marry if I became the wife of Mr. Hemphill--do you advise me to take Mr. Locker? And I will tell you this, he is not to be rudely set aside; he has warm-hearted points which I did not suspect at first. I will tell you what he just said to me. As I was coming up-stairs he hurried toward me, and his face showed that he was very anxious to speak to me. So before he could utter a word, I told him that he was too early; that his hour had not yet arrived. Then that good fellow said to me that he had seen I was in trouble, and that he had been informed it had been caused by bad news from my family. He had made no inquiries because he did not wish to intrude upon my private affairs, and all he wished to say now was that while my mind was disturbed and worried he did not intend to present his own affairs to my attention, even though I had fixed regular times for his doing so. But although he wished me to understand that I need not fear his making love to me just at this time, he wanted me to remember that his love was still burning as brightly as ever, and would be again offered me just as soon as he would be warranted in doing so."

"And what did you say to that?" asked Mrs. Easterfield.

"I felt like patting him on the head," Olive answered, "but instead of doing that I shook his hand just as warmly as I could, and told him I should not forget his consideration and good feeling."

Mrs. Easterfield sighed. "You have joined him fast to your car," she said, "and yet, even if there were no one else, he would be impossible."

"Why so?" asked Olive quickly. "I have always liked him, and now I like him ever so much better. To be sure he is queer; but then he is so much queerer than I am that perhaps in comparison I might take up the part of commonplace partner. Besides, he has money enough to live on. He told me that when he first addressed me. He said he would never ask any woman to live on pickled verse feet, and he has also told me something of his family, which must be a good one."

"Olive," said Mrs. Easterfield, "I don't believe at all in the necessity or the sense in your precipitating plans of marrying. It is all airy talk, anyway. You can't ask a man to step up and marry you in order that you may sit down and write a letter to your father. But if you are thinking of marrying, or rather of preparing to marry at some suitable time, why, in the name of everything that is reasonable, don't you take Mr. Lancaster? He is as far above the other young men you have met here as the mountains are above the plains; he belongs to another class altogether. He is a thoroughly fine young man, and has a most honorable profession with good prospects, and I know he loves you. You need not ask me how I know it--it is always easy for a woman to find out things like that. Now, here is a prospective husband for you whose cause I should advocate. In fact, I should be delighted to see you married to him. He possesses every quality which would make you a good husband."

Olive smiled. "You seem to know a great deal about him," said she, "and I assure you that so far as he himself is concerned, I have no objections to him, except that I think he might have had the courage to come and tell me the truth this morning, whatever it is."

"Perhaps he has not found out the truth yet," quickly suggested Mrs. Easterfield.

Olive fixed her eyes upon her companion and for a few moments reflected, but presently she shook her head.

"No, that can not be," she answered. "He would have let me know he had been obliged to wait. Oh, no, it is all settled, and we can drop that subject. But as for Mr. Lancaster, his connections would make any thought of him impossible. He, and his father, too, are both close friends of my uncle, and he would be a constant communication between me and that woman unless there should be a quarrel, which I don't wish to cause. No, I want to leave everything of that sort as far behind me as it used to be in front of me, and as Professor Lancaster is mixed up with it I could not think of having anything to do with him."

Mrs. Easterfield was silent. She was trying to make up her mind whether this girl were talking sense or nonsense. What she said seemed to be extremely nonsensical, but as she said it, it was difficult to believe that she did not consider it to be entirely rational.

"Well," said Olive, "you have objected to two of my candidates, and I positively decline the one you offer, so we have left only the diplomat. He has proposed, and he has not yet received a definite answer. You have told me yourself that he belongs to an aristocratic family in Austria, and I am sure that would be a grand match. We have talked together a great deal, and he seems to like the things I like. I should see plenty of court life and high society, for he will soon be transferred from this legation, and if I take him I shall go to some foreign capital. He is very sharp and ambitious, and I have no doubt that some day he will be looked upon as a distinguished foreigner. Now, as it is the ambition of many American girls to marry distinguished foreigners, this alliance is certainly worthy of due consideration."

"Stuff!" said Mrs. Easterfield.

Olive was not annoyed, and replied very quietly: "It is not stuff. You must know young women who have married foreigners and who did not do anything like so well as if they had married rising diplomats."

Mrs. Blynn now knocked at the door on urgent household business.

"I shall want to see you again about all this, Olive," said Mrs. Easterfield as they parted.

"Of course," replied the girl, "whenever you want to."

"Mrs. Blynn," said the lady of the house, "before you mention what you have come to talk about, please tell one of the men to put a horse to a buggy and come to the house. I want to send a message by him."

The letter which was speedily on its way to Mr. Richard Lancaster was a very brief one. It simply asked the young gentleman to come to Broadstone, with bad news or good news, or without any news at all. It was absolutely necessary that the writer should see him, and in order that there might be no delay she sent a conveyance for him. Moreover, she added, it would give her great pleasure if Mr. Lancaster would come prepared to spend a couple of days at her house. She felt sure good Captain Asher would spare him for that short time. She believed that at this moment more gentlemen were needed at Broadstone, and, although she did not go on to say that she thought Dick was not having a fair chance at this very important crisis, that is what she expected the young man to understand.

Just before luncheon, at the time when Claude Locker might have been urging his suit had he been less kind-hearted and generous, Olive found an opportunity to say a few words to Mrs. Easterfield.

"A capital idea has come into my head," she said. "What do you think of holding a competitive examination among these young men?"

"More stuff, and more nonsense!" ejaculated Mrs. Easterfield. "I never knew any one to trifle with serious subjects as you are trifling with your future."

"I am not trifling," said Olive. "Of course, I don't mean that I should hold an examination, but that you should. You know that parents--foreign parents, I mean--make all sorts of examinations of the qualifications and merits of candidates for the hands of their daughters, and I should be very grateful if you would be at least that much of a mother to me."

"No examination would be needed," said the other quickly; "I should decide upon Mr. Lancaster without the necessity of any questions or deliberations."

"But he is not a candidate," said Olive; "he has been ruled out. However," she added with a little laugh, "nothing can be done just now, for they have not all entered themselves in the competition; Mr. Hemphill has not proposed yet."

At that instant the rest of the family joined them on their way to luncheon.

The meal was scarcely over when Olive disappeared up-stairs, but soon came down attired in a blue sailor suit, which she had not before worn at Broadstone, and although the ladies of that house had been astonished at the number of costumes this navy girl carried in her unostentatious baggage, this was a new surprise to them.

"Mr. Hemphill and I are going boating," said Olive to Mrs. Easterfield.

"Olive!" exclaimed the other.

"What is there astonishing about it?" asked the girl. "I have been out boating with Mr. Locker, and it did not amaze you. You need not be afraid; Mr. Hemphill says he has had a good deal of practise in rowing, and if he does not understand the management of a boat I am sure I do. It is only for an hour, and we shall be ready for anything that the rest of you are going to do this afternoon."

With this, away she went, skipping over the rocks and grass, down to the river's edge, followed by Mr. Hemphill, who could scarcely believe he was in a world of common people and common things, while he, in turn, was followed by the mental anathemas of a poet and a diplomat.

_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."

_CHAPTER XX_

_Mr. Locker determines to rush the Enemy's Position._

The party at Broadstone was not in what might be called a congenial condition. There were among them elements of unrest which prevented that assimilation which is necessary to social enjoyment. Even the ordinarily placid Mr. Fox was dissatisfied. The trouble with him was--although he did not admit it--that he missed the company of Miss Asher. He had found her most agreeable and inspiriting, but now things had changed, and he did not seem to have any opportunity for the lively chats of a few days before. He remarked to his wife that he thought Broadstone was getting very dull, and he should be rather glad when the time came for them to leave. Mrs. Fox was not of his opinion; she enjoyed the state of affairs more than she had done when her husband had been better pleased. There was something going on which she did not understand, and she wanted to find out what it was. It concerned Miss Asher and one of the young men, but which one she could not decide. In any case it troubled Mrs. Easterfield, and that was interesting.

Claude Locker seemed to be a changed man; he no longer made jokes or performed absurdities. He had become wonderfully vigilant, and seemed to be one who continually bided his time. He bided it so much that he was of very little use as a member of the social circle.

Mr. Du Brant was also biding his time, but he did not make the fact evident. He was very vigilant also, but was very quiet, and kept himself in the background. He had seen Olive and Mr. Hemphill go out in the boat, but he determined totally to ignore that interesting occurrence. The moment he had an opportunity he would speak to Olive again, and the existence of other people did not concern him.

Mr. Hemphill was walking by the river; Olive had not allowed him to come to the house with her, for his face was so radiant with the ecstasy of not having been discarded by her that she did not wish him to be seen. From her window Mrs. Easterfield saw this young man on his return from his promenade, and she knew it would not be many minutes before he would reach the house. She also saw the diplomat, who was glaring across the grounds at some one, probably Mr. Locker, who, not unlikely, was glaring back at him. She had come up-stairs to do some writing, but now she put down her pen and called to her secretary.

"Miss Raleigh," said she, "it has been a good while since you have done anything for me."

"Indeed it has," said the other with a sigh.

"But I want you to do something this minute. It is strictly confidential business. I want you to go down on the lawn, or any other place where Miss Asher may be, and make yourself _mal à propos_. I am busy now, but I will relieve you before very long. Can you do that? Do you understand?"

The aspect of the secretary underwent a total change. From a dull, heavy-eyed woman she became an intent, an eager emissary. Her hands trembled with the intensity of her desire to meddle with the affairs of others.

"Of course I understand," she exclaimed, "and I can do it. You mean you don't want any of those young men to get a chance to speak to Miss Asher. Do you include Mr. Lancaster? Or shall I only keep off the others?"

"I include all of them," said Mrs. Easterfield. "Don't let any of them have a chance to speak to her until I can come down. And hurry! Here is one coming now."

Hurrying down-stairs, the secretary glanced into the library. There she saw Mrs. Fox in one armchair, and Olive in another, both reading. In the hall were the two little girls, busily engaged in harnessing two small chairs to a large armchair by means of a ball of pink yarn. Outside, about a hundred yards away, she saw Mr. Hemphill irresolutely approaching the house. Miss Raleigh's mind, frequently dormant, was very brisk and lively when she had occasion to waken it. She made a dive toward the children.

"Dear little ones," she cried, "don't you want to come out under the trees and have the good Mr. Hemphill tell you a story? I know he wants to tell you one, and it is about a witch and two pussy-cats and a kangaroo. Come along. He is out there waiting for us." Down dropped the ball of yarn, and with exultant cries each little girl seized an outstretched hand of the secretary, and together they ran over the grass to meet the good Mr. Hemphill.

Of course he was obliged to want to tell them a story; they expected it of him, and they were his employer's children. To be sure he had on mind something very practical and sensible he wished to say to Miss Olive, which had come to him during his solitary walk, and which he did not believe she would object to hearing, although he had said so much to her quite recently. As soon as he should begin to speak she would know that this was something she ought to know. It was about his mother, who had an income of her own, and did not in the least depend upon her son. Miss Olive would certainly agree with him that it was proper for him to tell her this.

But the little girls seized his hands and led him away to a bench, where, having seated him almost forcibly, each climbed upon a knee. The good Mr. Hemphill sent a furtive glare after Miss Raleigh, who, with that smile of gentle gratification which comes to one after having just done a good deed to another, sauntered slowly away.

"Don't come back again," cried out the older of the little girls. "He was put out in the last story, and we want this to be a long one. And remember, Mr, Rupert, it is to be about a witch and two pussy-cats--"

"And a kangaroo," added the other.

At the front door the secretary met Miss Asher, just emerging. "Isn't that a pretty picture" she said, pointing to the group under the trees.

Olive looked at them and smiled. "It is beautiful," she said; "a regular family composition. I wish I had a kodak."

"Oh, that would never do!" exclaimed Miss Raleigh. "He is just as sensitive as he can be, and, of course, it's natural. And the dear little things are so glad to get him to themselves so that they can have one of the long, long stories they like so much. May I ask what that is you are working, Miss Asher?"

"It is going to be what they call a nucleus," said Olive, showing a little piece of fancy work. "You first crochet this, and then its ultimate character depends on what you may put around it. It may be a shawl, or a table cover, or even an apron, if you like crocheted aprons. I learned the stitch last winter. Would you like me to show it to you?"

"I should like it above all things," said the secretary. And together they walked to a rustic bench quite away from the story-telling group. "So far I have done nothing but nucleuses," said Olive, as they sat down. "I put them away when they are finished, and then I suppose some time I shall take up one and make it into something."

"Like those pastry shells," said Miss Raleigh, "which can be laid away and which you can fill up with preserves or jam whenever you want a pie. How many of these have you, Miss Asher?"

"When this is finished there will be four," said Olive.

At some distance, and near the garden, Dick Lancaster, strolling eastward, encountered Claude Locker, strolling westward.

"Hello!" cried Locker. "I am glad to see you. Brought your baggage with you this time, I see. That means you are going to stay, of course."

"A couple of days," replied Dick.

"Well, a man can do a lot in that time, and you may have something to do, but I am not sure. No, sir," continued Locker, "I am not sure. I am on the point of making a demonstration in force. But the enemy is always presenting some new force. By enemy you understand me to mean that which I adore above all else in the world, but which must be attacked, and that right soon if her defenses are to be carried. Step this way a little, and look over there. Do you see that Raleigh woman sitting on a bench with her? Well, now, if I had not had such a beastly generous disposition I might be sitting on that bench this minute. I was deceived by a feint of the opposing forces this morning. I don't mean she deceived me. I did it myself. Although I had the right by treaty to march in upon her, I myself offered to establish a truce in order that she might bury her dead. I did not know who had been killed, but it looked as if there were losses of some kind. But it was a false alarm. The dead must have turned up only missing, and she was as lively as a cricket at luncheon, and went out in a boat with that tailor's model--sixteen dollars and forty-eight cents for the entire suit ready-made; or twenty-three dollars made to order."

Dick smiled a little, but his soul rebelled within him. He regretted that he had given his promise to Mrs. Easterfield. What he wanted to do that moment was to go over to Captain Asher's niece and ask her to take a walk with him. What other man had a better right to speak to her than he had? But he respected his word; it would be very hard to break a promise made to Mrs. Easterfield; and he stood with his hands in his pockets, and his brows knit.