Chapter VIII: Part 8

"Then please say nothing on the subject," said Locker. "Please let us drop the whole matter for to-day. And may I assume that I am at liberty to take it up again to-morrow at this hour?"

"You may," said Olive. "What gentleman is that, do you suppose?"

"I know him," said Locker, "and, fortunately, he is married. He is Mr. Easterfield."

"Here's papa! Here's papa!" shouted the two little girls as they ran out of the front door.

"And papa," said the oldest one, "we want you to tell us a story just as soon as you have brushed your hair! Mr. Rupert has been telling us stories, but yours are a great deal better."

"Yes," said the other little girl, "he makes all the children too good. They can't be good, you know, and there's no use trying. We told him so, but he doesn't mind."

There was story-telling after luncheon, but the papa did not tell them, and the children were sent away. It was Mrs. Easterfield who told the stories, and Mr. Tom was a most interested listener.

"Well," said he, when she had finished, "this seems to be a somewhat tangled state of affairs."

"It certainly is," she replied, "and I tangled them."

"And you expect me to straighten them?" he asked.

"Of course I do," she replied, "and I expect you to begin by sending Mr. Hemphill away. You know I could not do it, but I should think it would be easy for you."

"Would you object if I lighted a cigar?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said. "Did you ever hear me object to anything of the kind?"

"No," said he, "but I never have smoked in this room, and I thought perhaps Miss Raleigh might object when she came in to do your writing."

"My writing!" exclaimed Mrs. Easterfield. "Now don't trifle! This is no time to make fun of me. Olive may be accepting him this minute."

"It seems to me," said Mr. Easterfield, slowly puffing his cigar, "that it would not be such a very bad thing if she did. So far as I have been able to judge, he is my favorite of the claimants. Du Brant and I have met frequently, and if I were a girl I would not want to marry him. Locker is too little for Miss Asher, and, besides, he is too flighty. Your young professor may be good enough, but from my limited conversation with him at the table I could not form much of an opinion as to him one way or another. I have an opinion of Hemphill, and a very good one. He is a first-class young man, a rising one with prospects, and, more than that, I think he is the best-looking of the lot."

"Tom," said Mrs. Easterfield, "do you suppose I sent for you to talk such nonsense as that? Can you imagine that my sense of honor toward Olive's parents would allow me even to consider a marriage between a high-class girl, such as she is--high-class in every way--to a mere commonplace private secretary? I don't care what his attributes and merits are; he is commonplace to the backbone; and he is impossible. If what ought to be a brilliant career ends suddenly in Rupert Hemphill I shall have Olive on my conscience for the rest of my life."

"That settles it," said Mr. Tom Easterfield; "your conscience, my dear, has not been trained to carry loads, and I shall not help to put one on it. Hemphill is a good man, but we must rule him out."

"Yes," said she, "Olive is a great deal more than good. He must be ruled out."

"But I can't send him away this afternoon," Tom continued. "That would put them both on their mettle, and, ten to one, he would considerately announce his engagement before he left."

"No," said she. "Olive is very sharp, and would resent that. But now that you are here I feel safe from any immediate rashness on their part."

"You are right," said Mr. Tom. "My very coming will give them pause. And now I want to see the girl."

"What for?" asked Mrs. Easterfield.

"I want to get acquainted with her. I don't know her yet, and I can't talk to her if I don't know her."

"Are you going to talk to her about Hemphill?"

"Yes, for one thing," he answered.

"Well," said she, "you will have to be very circumspect. She is both alert, and sensitive."

"Oh, I'll be circumspect enough," he replied. "You may trust me for that."

It was not long after this that Mrs. Easterfield, being engaged in some hospitable duties, sent Olive to show Mr. Tom the garden, and it was rather a slight to that abode of beauty that the tour of the rose-lined paths occupied but a very few minutes, when Mr. Easterfield became tired, and desired to sit down. Having seated themselves on Mrs. Easterfield's favorite bench, Olive looked up at her companion, and asked:

"Well, sir, what is it you brought me here to say to me?"

Mr. Tom laughed, and so did she.

"If it is anything about the gentlemen who are paying their addresses to me, you may as well begin at once, for that will save time, and really an introduction is not necessary."

Mr. Easterfield's admiration for this young lady, which had been steadily growing, was not decreased by this remark. "This girl," said he to himself, "deserves a nimble-witted husband. Hemphill would never do for her. It seems to me," he said aloud, "that we are already well enough acquainted for me to proceed with the remarks which you have correctly assumed I came here to make."

"Yes," said she, "I have always thought that some people are born to become acquainted, and when they meet they instantly perceive the fact, and the thing is accomplished. They can then proceed."

"Very well," said he, "we will proceed."

"I suppose," said Olive, "that Mrs. Easterfield has explained everything, and that you agree with her and with me that it is a sensible thing for a girl in my position to marry, and, having no one to attend wisely to such a matter for me, that I should endeavor to attend to it myself as wisely as I can. Also, that a little bit of pique, caused by the fact that I am to have an old schoolfellow for a stepmother, is excusable."

"And it is this pique which puts you in such a hurry? I did not exactly understand that."

"Yes, it does," said she. "I very much wish to announce my own engagement, if not my marriage, before any arrangements shall be made which may include me. Do you think me wrong in this?"

"No, I don't," said Mr. Easterfield. "If I were a girl in your place I think I would do the same thing myself."

Olive's face expressed her gratitude. "And now," said she, "what do you think of the young men? I feel so well acquainted with you through Mrs. Easterfield that I shall give a great deal of weight to your opinion. But first let me ask you one thing: After what you have heard of me do you think I am a flirt?"

Mr. Tom knitted his brows a little, then he smiled, and then he looked out over the flower-beds without saying anything.

"Don't be afraid to say so if you think so," said she. "You must be perfectly plain and frank with me, or our acquaintanceship will wither away."

Under the influence of this threat he spoke. "Well," said he, "I should not feel warranted in calling you a flirt, but it does seem to me that you have been flirting."

"I think you are wrong, Mr. Easterfield," said Olive, speaking very gravely. "I never saw any one of these young men before I came here except Mr. Hemphill, and he was an entirely different person when I knew him before, and I have given no one of them any special encouragement. If Mr. Locker were not such an impetuous young man, I think the others would have been more deliberate, but as it was easy to see the state of his mind, and as we are all making but a temporary stay here, these other young men saw that they must act quickly, or not at all. This, while it was very amusing, was also a little annoying, and I should greatly have preferred slower and more deliberate movements on the part of these young men. But all my feelings changed when my father's letter came to me. I was glad then that they had proposed already."

"That is certainly honest," said Mr. Tom.

"Of course it is honest," replied Olive. "I am here to speak honestly if I speak at all. Now, don't you see that if under these peculiar circumstances one eligible young man had proposed to me I ought to have considered myself fortunate? Now here are three to choose from. Do you not agree with me that it is my duty to try to choose the best one of them, and not to discourage any until I feel very certain about my choice?"

"That is business-like," said Mr. Easterfield; "but do you love any one of them?"

"No, I don't," answered Olive, "except that there is a feeling in that direction in the case of Mr. Hemphill. I suppose Mrs. Easterfield has told you that when I was a schoolgirl I was deeply in love with him; and now, when I think of those old times, I believe it would not be impossible for those old sentiments to return. So there really is a tie between him and me; even though it be a slight one; which does not exist at all between me and any one of the others."

For a moment neither of them spoke. "That is very bad, young woman," thought Mr. Tom. "A slight tie like that is apt to grow thick and strong suddenly." But he could not discourse about Mr. Hemphill; he knew that would be very dangerous. He would have to be considered, however, and much more seriously than he had supposed.

"Well," said he, "I will tell you this: if I were a young man, unmarried, and on a visit to Broadstone at this time, I should not like to be treated as you are treating the young men who are here. It is all very well for a young woman to look after herself and her own interests, but I should be very sorry to have my fate depend upon the merits of other people. I may not be correct, but I am afraid I should feel I was being flirted with."

"Well, then," said Olive, giving a quick, forward motion on the bench, "you think I ought to settle this matter immediately, and relieve myself at once from the imputation of trifling with earnest affection?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" cried Mrs. Easterfield. "Not at all! Don't do anything rash!"

Olive leaned back on the bench, and laughed heartily. "There is so much excellent advice in this world," she said, "which is not intended to be used. However, it is valuable all the same. And now, sir, what is it you would like me to do? Something plain; intended for every-day use."

Mr. Tom leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "It does not appear to me," he said, "that you have told me very much I did not know before, for Mrs. Easterfield put the matter very plainly before me."

"And it does not seem to me," said Olive, "that you have given me any definite counsel, and I know that is what you came here to do."

"You are mistaken there," he said. "I came here to find out what sort of a girl you are; my counsels must depend on my discoveries. But there is one thing I want to ask you; you are all the time talking about three young men. Now, there are four of them here."

"Yes," she answered quickly. "But only three of them have proposed; and, besides, if the other were to do so, he would have to be set aside for what I may call family reasons. I don't want to go into particulars because the subject is very painful to me."

For a moment Mr. Tom did not speak. Then, determined to go through with what he had come to do, which was to make himself acquainted with this girl, he said: "I do not wish to discuss anything that is painful to you, but Mrs. Easterfield and I are very much disturbed for fear that in some way your visit to Broadstone created some misunderstanding or disagreeable feeling between you and your uncle. Now, would you mind telling me whether this is so, or not?"

She looked at him steadily. "There is an unpleasant feeling between me and my uncle, but this visit has nothing to do with it. And I am going to tell you all about it. I hate to feel so much alone in the world that I can't talk to anybody about what makes me unhappy. I might have spoken to Mrs. Easterfield, but she didn't ask me. But you have asked me, and that makes me feel that I am really better acquainted with you than with her."

This remark pleased Mr. Tom, but he did not think it would be necessary to put it into his report to his wife. He had promised to be very circumspect; and circumspection should act in every direction.

"It is very hard for a girl such as I am," she continued, "to be alone in the world, and that is a very good reason for getting married as soon as I can."

"And for being very careful whom you marry," interrupted Mr. Easterfield.

"Of course," said she, "and I am trying very hard to be that. A little while ago I had a father with whom I expected to live and be happy, but that dream is over now. And then I thought I had an uncle who was going to be more of a father to me than my own father had ever been. But that dream is over, too."

"And why?" asked Mr. Easterfield.

"He is going to marry a woman," said Olive, "that is perfectly horrible, and with whom I could not live. And the worst of it all is that he never told me a word about it."

As she said this Olive looked very solemn; and Mr. Tom, not knowing on the instant what would be proper to say, looked solemn also.

"You may think it strange," said she, "that I talk in this way to you, but you came here to find out what sort of girl I am, and I am perfectly willing to help you do it. Besides, in a case like this, I would rather talk to a man than to a woman."

Mr. Tom believed her, but he did not know at this stage of the proceedings what it would be wise to say. He was also fully aware that if he said the wrong thing it would be very bad, indeed.

"Now, you see," said she, "there is another reason why I should marry as soon as possible. In my case most girls would take up some pursuit which would make them independent, but I don't like business. I want to be at the head of a household; and, what is more, I want to have something to do--I mean a great deal to do--with the selection of a husband."

The conversation was taking a direction which frightened Mr. Tom. In the next moment she might be asking advice about the choice of a husband. It was plain enough that love had nothing to do with the matter, and Mr. Tom did not wish to act the part of a practical-minded Cupid. "And now let me ask a favor of you," said he. "Won't you give me time to think over this matter a little?"

"That is exactly what I say to my suitors," said Olive, smiling.

Mr. Tom smiled also. "But won't you promise me not to do anything definite until I see you again?" he asked earnestly.

"That is not very unlike what some of my suitors say to me," she replied. "But I will promise you that when you see me again I shall still be heart-free."

"There can be no doubt of that," Mr. Tom said to himself as they arose to leave the garden. "And, my young woman, you may deny being a flirt, but you permitted the addresses of two young men before you were upset by your father's letter. But I think I like flirts. At any rate, I can not help liking her, and I believe she has got a heart somewhere, and will find it some day."

When Mr. Tom returned to the house he did not find his wife, for that lady was occupied somewhere in entertaining her guests. Now, although it might have been considered his duty to go and help her in her hospitable work, he very much preferred to attend to the business which she had sent for him to do. And walking to the stables, he was soon mounted on a good horse, and riding away southward on the smooth gray turnpike.

_CHAPTER XXV_

_The Captain and Mr. Tom._

Captain Asher was standing at the door of the tollhouse when he saw Mr. Easterfield approaching. He recognized him, although he had had but one brief interview with him one day at the toll-gate some time before. Mr. Easterfield was a man absorbed in business, and the first summer Mrs. Easterfield was at Broadstone he was in Europe engaged in large and important affairs, and had not been at the summer home at all. And so far this summer, he had been there but once before, and then for only a couple of days. Now, as the captain saw the gentleman coming toward the toll-gate he had no reason for supposing that he would not go through it. Nevertheless, his mind was disturbed. Any one coming from Broadstone disturbed his mind. He had not quite decided whether or not to ask any questions concerning the late members of his household, when the horseman stopped at the gate, and handed him the toll.

"Good morning, captain," said Mr. Easterfield cheerily, for he had heard much in praise of the toll-gate keeper from his wife.

"Good morning, Mr. Easterfield," said the captain gravely.

"I am glad I do not have to introduce myself," said Mr. Easterfield, "for I am only going through your gate as far as that tree to tie my horse. Then, if convenient to you, I should like to have a little talk with you."

The captain's mind, which had been relieved when Mr. Easterfield paid his toll, now sank again. But he could not say a talk would be inconvenient. "If I had known that you were not going on," he said, "you need not have paid."

"Like most people in this life," said Mr. Easterfield, "I pay for what I have already done, and not for what I am going to do. And now have you leisure, sir, for a short conversation?"

The captain looked very glum. He felt not the slightest desire now to ask questions, and still less desire to be interrogated. However, he was not afraid of anything any one might say to him; and if a certain subject was broached, he had something to say himself.

"Yes," said he; "do you prefer indoors or out of doors?"

"Out of doors, if it suits," replied the visitor, "for I would like to take a smoke."

"I am with you there," said the captain, as he led the way to the little arbor.

Here Mr. Easterfield lighted a cigar, and the captain a pipe.

"Now, sir," said the latter, when the tobacco in his bowl was in a satisfactory glow, "what is it you want to talk about?" He spoke as if he were behind entrenchments, and ready for an attack.

"We have two of your guests with us," answered Mr. Easterfield, "Professor Lancaster, and your niece."

"Oh," said the captain, evidently relieved. "I thought perhaps you had come to ask questions about some reports you may have heard in regard to me."

"Not at all, not at all," said Mr. Easterfield. "I would not think of mentioning your private affairs, about which I have not the slightest right or wish to speak. But as we have apparently appropriated two of your young people, I think, and Mrs. Easterfield agrees with me, that it is but right you should be informed as to their health, and what they are doing."

The captain puffed vigorously. "When is Dick Lancaster coming back" he asked.

"I can't say anything about that," replied Mr. Easterfield, "for I am not master of ceremonies. We would like to keep him as long as we can, but, of course, your claims must be considered."

"I should think so," remarked the captain.

"Professor Lancaster is a remarkably fine young man," said the other, "and as he is a friend of yours, and as I should like him to be a friend of mine, it would give me pleasure to talk to you more about him. But I may as well confess that my real object in coming here is to talk about your niece. Of course, as I said before, it might appear that I have no right to meddle with your family affairs, but in this case I certainly think I am justified; for, as Mrs. Easterfield invited the young lady to leave you and to come to her, and as all that has happened to her has happened at our house, and in consequence of that invitation, I think that you, as her nearest accessible relative, should be told of what has occurred."

The captain made no answer, but gazed steadily into the face of the speaker.

"Therefore," continued Mr. Easterfield, "I will simply state that my wife and I have very good reason to believe that your niece is about to engage herself in marriage; and I will only add that we are very sorry, indeed, that this should have occurred under our roof."

A sudden and curious change came over the face of the captain; a light sparkled in his eye, and a faint flush, as if of pleasure, was visible under his swarthy skin. He leaned toward his companion.

"Is it Dick Lancaster?" he asked quickly.

Mr. Easterfield answered gravely: "I wish it were, but I am very sorry to say it is not."

The light went out of the captain's eye. He leaned back on his bench and the little flush in his cheeks was succeeded by a somber coldness. "Very good," said he; "I don't want to hear anything more about it, and, what is more, it would not be right for you to tell me, even if I did want to know. It is none of my business."

"Now, really, Captain Asher," began Mr. Easterfield.

"No, sir," the captain interrupted. "It is none of my business, and I don't want to hear anything about it. And now, sir, I would like to tell you something. It is something I thought you came here to ask about, and I did not like it, but now I want to tell you of my own free will, in confidence. That is to say, I don't want you to speak of it to anybody in your house. I suppose you have heard something about my intending to marry a woman in town?"

"Yes," said Mr. Easterfield, "I can not deny that I have, but I considered it was entirely your own affair, and I had not--"

"Of course," interrupted the captain, "and I want to tell you--but I don't want my niece to hear it as coming from me--that that whole thing is a most abominable lie! That woman has been trying to make people believe I am going to marry her, and she has made a good many believe it, but I would rather cut my throat than marry her. But I have told her what I think of her in a way she can not mistake. And that ends her! I tell you this, Mr. Easterfield, because I believe you are a good man, and you certainly seem to be a friendly man, and I would like you to know it. I would have liked very much to tell everybody, especially my own flesh and blood, but now I assure you, sir, I am too proud to have her know it through me. Let her go on and marry anybody she pleases, and let her think anything she pleases about me. She has been satisfied with her own opinion of me without giving me a chance to explain to her, or to tell her the truth, and now she can stay satisfied with it until somebody else sets her straight."

"But this is very hard, captain," said Mr. Easterfield; "hard on you, hard on her, and hard on all of us, I may say."

The captain made no answer to these words, and did not appear to hear them. "I tell you, Mr. Easterfield," he said presently, "that I did not know until now how much I cared for that girl. I don't mind saying this to you because you come to me like a friend, and I believe in you. Yes, sir, I did not know how much I cared for her, and it is pretty hard on me to find out how little she cares for me."

"You are wrong there," said Mr. Easterfield. "My wife tells me that Miss Asher has frequently talked to her about you and her life here, and it is certain she has--"

"Oh, that does not make any difference," interrupted the captain. "I am talking about things as they are now. It was all very well as long as things seemed to be going right, but I believe in people who stand by you when things seem to be going wrong, and who keep on standing by you until they know how they are going, and that is exactly what she did not do. Now, there was Dick Lancaster; he came to me and asked me squarely about that affair. To be sure, I cut him off short, for it angered me to think that he, or anybody else, should have such an idea of me, and, besides, it was none of his business. But it should have been her business; she ought to have made it her business; and, even if the thing had stood differently, I would have told her exactly how it did stand; and then she could have said to me what she thought about it, and what she was going to do. But instead of that, she just made up her mind about me, and away went everything. Yes, sir, everything. I can't tell you the plans I had made for her and for myself, and, I may say, for Dick Lancaster. If it suited her, I wanted her to marry him, and if it suited her I wanted to go and live with them in his college town, or any other place they might want to go. Again and again, after I knew Dick, have I gone over this thing and planned it out this way, and that way, but always with us three in the middle of everything. Do you see that?" continued the captain after a slight pause, as he drew from his pocket a dainty little pearl paper-cutter. "That belongs to her. She used to sit out here, and cut the leaves of books as she read them. I can see her little hand now as it went sliding along the edges of the pages. When she went away she left it on the bench, and I took it. And I've kept it in my pocket to take out when I sit here, and cut books with it when I have 'em. I haven't many books that ain't cut, but I've sat here and cut 'em till there wasn't any left. And then I cut a lot of old volumes of Coast Survey Reports. It is a foolish thing for an old man to do, but then--but then--well, you see, I did it."

There was a choke in the captain's voice as he leaned over to put the paper-cutter in his pocket and to pick up his pipe, which he had laid on the bench beside him. Mr. Easterfield was touched and surprised. He would not have supposed the captain to be a man of such tender sentiment. And he took him at once to his heart. "It is a shame," his thoughts ran, "for this man to be separated from the niece he so loves. She is a cold-hearted girl, or she does not understand him. It must not be."

Had he been a woman he would have said all this, but, being a man, he found it difficult to break the silence which followed the captain's last words. He did not know what to say, although he had no hesitation in making up his mind what he was going to do about it all. He arose.

"Captain Asher," he said, "I have now told you what I thought you should know, and I must take my departure. I would not presume for a moment to offer you any advice in regard to your family affairs, but there is one thing Mrs. Easterfield and I will interfere with, if we can, for we feel that we have a right to do it, and that is any definite and immediate engagement of your niece. If she should promise herself in marriage at our house we shall feel that we are responsible for it, and that, in fact, we brought it about. Whether the match shall seem desirable to you or not, we do not wish to be answerable for it."

"Oh, I need not be counted in at all," said the captain, who had recovered his composure. "It is her own affair. I suppose it was the news of her father's intended marriage that put her in such a hurry."

"You are right," said Mr. Easterfield.

"Just like her" the captain exclaimed. "And I don't blame her. I'm with her there"

When Mr. Tom reached Broadstone he dismounted at the stable, and walked to the house. Nobody was to be seen on the grounds. It was a warm afternoon when those whose hearts were undisturbed by the turmoils of love were apt to be napping, and those who were in the tumultuous state of mind referred to, preferred to separate themselves from each other and the rest of the world until the cause of their inquietude should consider the heat of the summer day as sufficiently mitigated for her to appear again among her fellow beings.

Mr. Easterfield did not care to meet any of his guests, and hoped to find his wife in her room, that he might report, and consult. But, as he approached the house, he saw at an upper window a female head. It stayed there just long enough for him to see that it was Olive's head; then it disappeared. When he reached the hall door there stood Olive.

Mr. Tom was a little disappointed. He wanted to see his wife immediately, and then to see Olive. But he could not say so.

"Well," said the girl, coming down the steps, "it looks as if we had arranged to meet. But although we didn't, let's take a little walk. I have something I want to say to you."

Mr. Easterfield turned, and walked away from the house. He was a masterful man, and did not like to have his plans interfered with. Therefore he made a dash, and had the first word. "Miss Asher," said he, "I am glad to hear anything you have to say, but first you must really listen to me."

Olive looked at him with surprise. She also was a masterful person, and not accustomed to be treated in this way. But he gave her no chance.

"Miss Asher," said he, "I have come to you to speak for one of your lovers, the truest, best lover you ever had, and I believe, ever will have."

Olive looked at him steadfastly, and her face grew hard. "Mr. Easterfield," she said, "this will not do. I have told you I will not have it. Mrs. Easterfield and you have been very good and kind, and I have told you everything, but you do not seem to remember one thing I have said. I will not have anybody forced upon me; no matter if he happens to be an angel from heaven, or no matter how much better he may be than anybody else on earth. I have my reasons for this determination. They are good reasons, and, above all, they are my reasons. I don't want you to think me rude, but if you persist in forcing that gentleman upon my attention, I shall have to request that the whole subject be dropped between us."

"Who in the name of common sense do you think I am talking about?" exclaimed Mr. Tom. "Do you think I refer to Mr. Lancaster?"

"I do," she said. "You know you would not come to plead the cause of any one of the others."

He looked down at her half doubtfully, wondering a little how she would take what he was going to say. "You are mistaken," he said quietly. "I have nothing whatever to say about Mr. Lancaster. The lover I speak of is your uncle."

Then her face turned red. "Why do you use that expression? Did he send you to say it?"

"Not at all. I came of my own free will. I went to see Captain Asher immediately after I left you. Perhaps you are thinking that I have no right to intrude in your family affairs, but I do not mind your thinking that. I had a long talk with your uncle. I found that the uppermost sentiment of his soul was his love for you. You had come into his life like the break of day. Every little thing you had owned or touched was dear to him because it had been yours, or you had used it. All his plans in life had been remade in reference to you."

They had stopped and were standing facing each other. They could not walk and talk as they were talking.

"Yet, but," she exclaimed, her face pale and her eyes fixed steadfastly upon him, "but what of that--"

"There are no yets and buts," he exclaimed, half angry with her that she hesitated. "I know what you were going to say, but that woman you have heard of is nothing to him. He hates her worse than you hate her. She has imposed upon you; how I know not; but she is an impostor."

At this instant she seized him by the arm. "Mr. Easterfield," she cried, and as she spoke the tears were running down her cheeks, "please let me have a carriage--something covered! I would go on my wheel, for that would be quicker, but I don't want anybody to speak to me or see me! Will you have it brought to the back door, Mr. Easterfield, please? I will run to the house, and be waiting when it comes."

She did not wait for him to answer. He did not ask her where she was going. He knew very well. She ran to the house, and he hurried to the stable.

Having given his orders, Mr. Tom went in search of his wife. The moment had arrived when it was absolutely necessary to let her know what was going on.

He found her in her own room. "Where on earth have you been?" she exclaimed. "I have been looking everywhere for you."

In as few words as possible he told her where he had been, and what he had done.

"And where are you going now?" she asked.

"I am going to change my coat," said the good Mr. Tom. "After my ride to the toll-gate and back this jacket is too dusty for me to drive with her."

"Drive with her" exclaimed Mrs. Easterfield. "It will be very well for you to get rid of some of that dust, but when the carriage comes I will drive with Olive to see her uncle."

And thus it happened that Mr. Tom stayed at home with the house party while the close carriage, containing his wife and that dear girl, Olive Asher, rolled swiftly southward over the smooth turnpike road.

_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."