Wired Love

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE WRONG WOMAN.

  Somewhat exultant over the new aspect of affairs, and unable longer toendure the strain of the load of love he was carrying about with him,Quimby came to a desperate determination.

  This was no other, than to confide in his room-mate, and once dreadedrival, and then, provided he was not thrown out of the window, or kickeddown stairs, ask his advice about how to render himself clearlyunderstood by _her_, at the same time relating his former unfortunateattempt.

  This programme he carried into effect one morning, as Clem was blackinghis boots. Perhaps he had made private calculations on a blacking-brushhitting a man with less damage than some larger article.

  "I say, Clem!" Quimby began, "I--I want to ask your advice, you know!"

  "I am at your service, my dear boy," replied the unsuspecting Clem,rubbing away at his boot.

  "Well--I--I want to know--the fact is, I--I am boiling over with love!"

  "What!" exclaimed Clem, looking up with an amused smile, "you are not inlove with Cyn too, are you?"

  "With Cyn, _too_?" These words were balm to the soul of Quimby, and gavehim courage to answer eagerly,

  "Ah! no use in that for _me_, you know! It--it is _she_--MissRogers--Nattie--you know!"

  The blacking-brush left Clem's hand, but not to fly at the expectantQuimby. It simply dropped onto the floor, while Clem gave vent to hisfeelings in a prolonged whistle.

  "Is it possible!" he said, having thus relieved himself of his firstastonishment. "I might have suspected as much if I had stopped to think,though!"

  "Yes, I--I think I showed it plain enough, you know!" said Quimbycandidly. "You see, I--I tried to tell her of it once, before you camehere, when you were invisible, you know, but some way she--she didn'tjust understand, and--and bolted, you know! So just tell me how to doit, that is a good fellow, for do it I must!"

  Clem picked up his blacking-brush, and very deliberately smeared theboot he had just polished, with another coat of blacking, beforeanswering.

  "How can I tell you?" he said at last. "You don't suppose proposing isan every-day habit of mine, do you? My dear boy, I never proposed in mylife!"

  "But you--you ought to--I mean you will sometime, you know! Just give mea--a start, you know!" pleaded Quimby, sitting down on the edge of thebed.

  "Shall I call her and propose for you?" inquired Clem, somewhatironically, and glancing at the sounder.

  "No--no--I--_No!_" cried Quimby in great alarm at this proposition. "Shemight think you meant yourself, you know!"

  "In which case the rejection would be sure!" said Clem. Then flinginghis brush savagely into a corner, he added as he went out,

  "You must settle it yourself, old fellow! No one can help us in thosematters. There is no duplex!"

  Quimby was therefore left to his own devices; and his own devicesbrought about a most extraordinary result.

  That same evening, Nattie coming over to Cyn's room, and finding herabsent, sat down to await her return, which Mrs. Simonson assured herwould be very soon. There was no gas lighted, and in the dusk Nattieremained, feeling, perhaps, an affinity with the somber shadows of thetwilight. As she sat musing, now wishing "C" had left her life foreverwhen he left it with the odors of musk and bear's-grease about him, andnow despising herself for the weakness she found it so hard to overcome,she became conscious of a denser shadow in the shadows of the open door.

  "I--I beg pardon. Is it Cyn?" asked this shadow, in the voice of Quimby.

  "No," Nattie replied, "Cyn is out."

  "I--I beg pardon. Is it _you_?" the shadow asked with accents of delight.

  Nattie acknowledged the "you."

  "And you--you are alone?"

  Nattie glanced around the room hoping the Duchess had strayed in, so shemight truthfully say no. But she was compelled to reply in theaffirmative.

  "Glorious opportunity--I--it must not be wasted! I--I will explain, youknow!" he exclaimed, excitedly and incoherently. But to Nattie'ssurprise, instead of entering, he darted away in such a tremendous hurrythat he stumbled and fell, and she distinctly heard his skull bangagainst his own door.

  But his last words were too ominous, and she was too well acquaintedwith his peculiarities to flatter herself she was permanently relievedof his company. He had perhaps gone to brush his hair, or take somequieting drops, but she knew he had certainly not gone to stay, and notbeing exactly in the humor for his company, Nattie resolved to flyignominiously. Afraid of returning to her own room, lest she might meethim and be taken captive, she quietly retired into Cyn's bed-room. In afew moments she heard him stumbling over a stool in the parlor, and wasjust thinking that if he should take it into his head to remain anylength of time, she would be in rather a predicament, when to hersurprise she heard him say,

  "I--I must speak! I--I hope this time I shall remember what I have sooften--so often said in the privacy of my own apartment, to--if I mayconfess it--to a pillow--a pair of pants and a coat--placed in a chairas a poor effigy of--of you, you know. Will you--will you--don't speak,but let me alone, hear me and let the--the flow of language come!"

  He paused, and in the greatest bewilderment, Nattie stared at theopposite wall. Did he by some powerful intuition discern she was withinhearing distance, or was he in his disappointment rehearsing to herempty chair? Before Nattie could decide between these two solutions ofhis conduct, another voice, the voice of Celeste, said faintly andaffectedly,

  "Oh, Quimby"

  And then Nattie comprehended the situation. After her own retreat,Celeste had entered and taken the just vacated chair. It was twilight.Celeste wore a black dress like hers, her hair was dressed in the samestyle, and was the same color, and Quimby had mistaken her for Nattie!And in his excitement and struggle with that "flow of language," he didnot notice even that it was not Nattie's voice saying "Oh, Quimby!" forhe continued,

  "I--I--you may reject me--I am afraid you will, but I must say it, youknow. I must, or I shall--I shall explode and fly into atoms!"

  Here Celeste gave a little scream, but he went on determinedly, makingthe most of his "glorious opportunity."

  "I--I am not like other fellows, you know! that is, I mean I have notthe--the brass, if I may so express myself, and I am always doingsomething wrong--but I am used to it, you know--the question is, couldyou get used to it? for I have a heart that is--that is honest, and thatbeats all full of love--of--love for--you know who I mean!"

  There was a murmured "oh!" from Celeste, as Quimby paused to wipe fromhis brow the perspiration called forth by his arduous undertaking.

  "What shall I do!" frantically thought the perplexed listener, dividedbetween the ludicrous part of the affair, and her desire to save himfrom the dilemma into which he was rushing; "what _can_ I do? oh! if Cynwould only come!"

  But Cyn came not, and while Nattie paused, irresolute, and not knowingwhat course to take, Quimby went on to his fate.

  "I have thought, sometimes, that you liked some other fellow--Clem, Imean--" Nattie felt herself blush in the darkness--"but I do hope not!the thought has made me boil in secret often, and he loves Cyn, youknow--" Nattie's color left her face as quickly as it had come--"butoh!" and he went down on to his knees with a whack that made the vaseson the mantel jingle. "Let me tell you what I tried twice before to say,what is always in my thoughts! I--I adore you! the ground you walk on!and have, ever since I first saw your nose! I--I beg pardon, but I fellin love with your nose! and will you--can you tell me that you don'tlove any other fellow--Clem, I mean--and share my little property, andbe--be Mrs. Quimby, you know!"

  "Ah! really I--such a trying moment!--but dear, _dear_ Quimby, I nevercared for Clem, never only for you--and I am yours!"

  With these words, Celeste precipitated herself into his arms, and thenext moment Nattie heard a crash as they both fell on the floor. Thesudden shock of recognition that then burst upon him, weakened him tosuch an extent that he could not support himself, much less her, so downthey went!


  "He must know who it is now!" thought Nattie, with a sigh of relief.

  And meanwhile Celeste had picked herself up, but Quimby still remainedflat on the floor, bracing himself up by his hands on either side, andstaring at her, motionless. Fortunately it was too dark for her to seethe expression of his face.

  "Did you hurt yourself?" asked Celeste at length. "Let me help you up!We are to help each other now, you know."

  Quimby groaned.

  "Oh, misery!" he gasped. "This--my destiny is too much for me! Oh! theevil deeds of darkness! Listen to me, I implore you! It is all amistake! I thought--"

  "Of course it was a mistake! You did not suppose I thought you fellpurposely, did you, dear?" quickly interrupted Celeste, blindly orwillfully misunderstanding--who shall say which? "But please get up, Cynmay come."

  At this Quimby scrambled to his feet with startling suddenness, andexclaiming hastily,

  "I will--I will write and tell you all--_all!_ I have an engagement nowwith a friend just around the corner!" he rushed from the room, andwould have flown, but the pertinacious Celeste had followed, and just ashe reached the outside hall, regardless of the publicity, flung herselfaround his neck, this time without bringing him to the ground.

  "It is not necessary to write!" she cried. "Pray, do not take such atrifle so much to heart. Remember I am yours, and--"

  Another voice from the stairs just above the pair, interrupted her. Itwas the voice of Fishblate _pere_, and it said,

  "Hugging! Marry her!"

  "I--I--will!" wailed the now alarmed Quimby, as Celeste blushinglywithdrew from her embrace of him. "I--I will see you to-morrow if I--ifI live!" and striking his forehead with his hand, he burst away, boundedfrantically down the stairs and fled, ejaculating,

  "I knew it! I had a presentiment from my youth!"

  "Excuse his eccentricity, Pa!" Celeste said. "He loves me _so_ much, poorfellow!"

  "Humph! Get enough of _that!_" he growled, with contempt.

  "And he has a nice little property!" added Celeste, as they went upstairs.

  "Property is the thing!" Fishblate _pere_ said, with undisguisedplainness.

  Nattie emerged from her retreat on the hasty exit of Quimby and Celeste,so full of regret for the flight that had proved so disastrous to him,that the ludicrous part of the scene just enacted was forgotten.

  "Poor Quimby!" she thought, remorsefully. "What a dreadful fix he is in!I hope he will get out of it; and I am so sorry for my share in it! Howstrange it would be if he should, as he once said, marry the wrongwoman, after all!"