CHAPTER IX
A WRETCHED FAILURE
The excitement that had sustained me was passing away, and I feltmyself growing miserably weak and depressed. The remainder of the mealwas a desperate battle, in which I think I succeeded fairly. I talkedthat it might not be noticed that I was eating very little; joked withMr. Yocomb till the old gentleman was ruddy and tremulous withlaughter, and made Reuben happy by applauding one of Dapple's exploits,the history of which was easily drawn from him.
I spoke often to both Adah and Zillah, and tried to be as frank andunconscious in one case as the other. I even made the acquaintance ofMr. Hearn's little girl--indeed, her father formally presented her tome as his daughter Adela. I knew nothing of his domestic history, andgained no clew as to the length of the widowhood which he now proposedto end as speedily as possible.
I was amused by his not infrequent glances at Adah. He evidently had akeen eye for beauty as for every other good thing of this world, and hewas not so desperately enamored but that he could stealthily andcritically compare the diverse charms of the two girls, and I imaginedI saw a slight accession to his complacency as his judgment gave itsverdict for the one toward whom he manifested proprietorship by amanner that was courtly, deferential, but quite pronounced. A strangerpresent could never have doubted their relationship.
A brief discussion arose as to taste, in which Mr. Hearn assumed theground that nothing could take the place of much observation andcomparison, by means of which effects in color could be accuratelylearned and valued. In reply I said:
"Theories and facts do not always harmonize any more than colors. MissAdah's youth and rural life have not given her much opportunity forobservation and comparison, and yet few ladies on your Avenue havetruer eyes for harmony in color than she."
"Mr. Morton being the judge," said the banker, with a profound andsmiling bow. "Permit me to add that Miss Adah has at this moment onlyto glance in a mirror to obtain an idea of perfect harmony in color,"and his eyes lingered admiringly on her face.
I was worsted in this encounter, and I saw the old gleam ofmirthfulness in Miss Warren's eyes. How well I remembered when I firstsaw that evanescent illumination--the quick flash of a bright, genialspirit. "She delights in her lover's keen thrusts," was now my thought,"and is pleased to think I'm no match for him. She should remember thatit's a poor time for a man to tilt when he can scarcely sit erect." ButAdah's pleasure was unalloyed. She had received two decidedcompliments, and she found herself associated with me in thenew-comer's mind, and by my own actions.
"I frankly admit," I said, "that I'm a partial judge, and perhaps avery incompetent one." Then I was stupid enough to add: "But newspapermen are prone to have opinions. Mr. Yocomb was so sarcastic as to saythat there was nothing under heaven that an editor did not know."
"Oh, if you judge by her father's authority, you are on safe ground,and I yield at once."
He had now gone too far, and I flushed angrily as we rose from thetable. I saw, too, that Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb did not like it either, andthat Adah was blushing painfully. It was one of those attemptedwitticisms that must be simply ignored.
My anxiety now was to get back to my room as speedily as possible.Again I had overrated myself. The excitement of the effort was gone,and my heart was like lead. I, too, would no longer permit my eyes torest even a moment on one whose ever-present image was only too vividin spite of my constant effort to think of something else; for socomplete was my enthrallment that it was intolerable pain to see herthe object of another's man's preferred attentions. I knew it was allright; I was not jealous in the ordinary sense of the word; I merelyfound myself unable longer, in my weak condition, to endure in herpresence the consequences of my fatal blunder. Therefore I saw withpleasure that I might in a few moments have a chance to slip back to myrefuge as quietly as I had left it. Mrs. Yocomb was summoned to thekitchen; a farm laborer was inquiring for her husband, and he andReuben went out toward the barn. Adah would have lingered, but the twochildren pulled her away to the swing.
Mr. Hearn and Miss Warren stood by me a moment or two as I sat on thelounge in the hall, and then the former said: "Emily, this is just thetime for a twilight walk. Come, and show me the old garden;" and hetook her away, with an air of proprietorship at which I sickened, tothat place consecrated by my first conscious vision of the woman that Ihoped would be my fair Eve.
The moment they were off the porch I tottered to the stairway, andmanaged to reach the turn of the landing, and there my strength failed,and I held on to the railing for support, feeling ill and faint. Alight step came quickly through the hall and up the stairway.
"Why, Mr. Morton!" exclaimed Miss Warren, "you are not going up sosoon?"
"Yes, thank you," I managed to say cheerily. "Invalids must be prudent.I'm only resting on the landing a little."
"I found it rather cool and damp, and so came back for a shawl," sheexplained, and passed on up to her room, for she seemed a littleembarrassed at meeting me on the stairs. In her absence I made adesperate effort to go on, but found that I would fall. I must waittill she returned, and then crawl up the best I could.
"You see I'm prudence personified," I laughed, as she came back. "I'mtaking it so leisurely that I have even sat down about it."
"Are you not overtaxing yourself?" she asked gently. "I fear--"
"Oh, no, indeed--will sleep all the better for a change. Mr. Hearn iswaiting for you, and the twilight isn't. Don't worry; I'll surpassSamson in a week."
She looked at me keenly, and hesitatingly passed down the duskystairway. Then I turned and tried to crawl on, eager to gain my roomwithout revealing my condition; but when I reached the topmost stair itseemed that I could not go any further if my life depended on it. Withan irritable imprecation on my weakness, I sank down on the topmoststep.
"Mr. Morton," said a low voice, "why did you try to deceive me? Youhave gone far beyond your strength."
"You here--you of all others," I broke out, in tones of exasperation."I meant that your first evening should be without a shadow, and havefailed, as I now fail in everything. Call Reuben."
"Let me help you?" she pleaded, in the same hurried voice.
"No," I replied harshly, and I leaned heavily against the wall. Sheheld out her hand to aid me, but I would not take it.
"I've no right even to look at you--I who have been doubly enjoined tocherish such a 'scrupulous sense of honor.' I'd better have died athousand times. Call Reuben."
"How can I leave you so ill and unhappy!" and she made a gesture ofprotest and distress whose strong effect was only intensified by theobscurity. "I had hoped--you led me to think to-night--"
"That I was a weather-vane. Thank you."
Steps were heard entering the hall.
"Oh! oh!" she exclaimed, in bitter protest.
"Emily," called the banker's voice, "are you not very long?"
I seized her hand to detain her, and said, in a fierce whisper: "Neverso humiliate me as to let him know. Go at once; some one will find me."
"Your hand is like ice," she breathed.
I ignored her presence, leaned back, and closed my eyes.
She paused a single instant longer, and then, with a firm, decisivebearing, turned and passed quietly down the stairway.
"What in the world has kept you?" Mr. Hearn asked, a trifle impatiently.
"Can you tell me where Reuben is?" she answered, in a clear, firmvoice, that she knew I must hear.
"What does thee want, Emily?" cried Reuben from the piazza.
"Mr. Morton wishes to see you," she replied, in the same tone that shewould have used had my name been Mrs. Yocomb's, and then she passed outwith her affianced.
Reuben almost ran over me as he came bounding up the stairs.
"Hold on, old fellow," I whispered, and I pulled him down beside me."Can you keep a secret? I'm played out--Reuben--to speak elegantly--andI don't wish a soul to know it. I'm sitting very--comfortably on thisstep--you see--that's the way it looks--but I'm st
uck--hardaground--you'll have to tow me off. But not a word, remember. Lift meup--let me get my arm around your neck--there. Lucky I'm notheavy--slow and easy now--that's it. Ah, thank the Lord! I'm in myrefuge again. I felt like a scotched snake that couldn't wriggle backto its hole. Hand me that brandy there--like a good fellow. Now I won'tkelp you--any longer. If you care--for me--never speak of this."
"Please let me tell mother?"
"No, indeed."
"But doesn't Emily Warren know?"
"She knows I wanted to see you."
"Please let me do something or get thee something."
"No; just leave me to myself a little while, and I'll be all right. Goat once, that's a good fellow."
"Oh, Richard, thee shouldn't have come down. Thee looks so pale andsick that I'm afraid thee'll die yet; if thee does, thee'll break allour hearts," and the warm-hearted boy burst out crying, and ran andlocked himself in his room.
I was not left alone very long, for Mrs. Yocomb soon entered, saying:
"I'm glad thee's so prudent, and has returned to thy room. Thee actedvery generously to-night, and I appreciate it. I had no idea thee couldbe so strong and carry it out so well. Emily was greatly surprised, butshe enjoyed her first evening far more than she otherwise could havedone, for she's one of the most kind-hearted, sensitive girls I everknew. I do believe it would have killed her if thee hadn't got well.But thee looks kind of weak and faint, as far as I can see. Let melight the lamp for thee."
"No, Mrs. Yocomb, I like the dusk best. The light draws moths. Theywill come, you know, the stupid things, though certain to be scorched.One in the room at a time is enough. Don't worry--I'm a littletired--that's all. Sleep is all I need."
"Is thee sure?" "Yes, indeed; don't trouble about me. You won't know mein a few days."
"Thee was a brave, generous man to-night, Richard. I understood theeffort thee was making, and I think Emily did. A good conscience oughtto make thee sleep well."
I laughed very bitterly as I said, "My conscience is gutta-perchato-night, through and through, but please say no more, or I'll have toshock you again. I'll be in a better mood to-morrow."
"Well, good-night. Thee'll excuse a housekeeper on Seventh-day evening.If thee wants anything, ring thy bell."
She came and stroked my brow gently for a moment, and then breathedsoftly:
"God bless thee, Richard. May the Sabbath's peace quiet thy heartto-morrow."