CHAPTER XI.
THE LAST OF THE CLOVER-LEAVES.
Last days are very apt to be hard days. As the time drew near for quittingNo. 13, Clover was conscious of a growing reluctance.
"I wonder why it is that I mind it so much?" she asked herself. "Phil hasgot well here, to be sure; that would be enough of itself to make me fondof the place, and we have had a happy winter in this little house. Butstill, papa, Elsie, John,--it seems very queer that I am not gladder to goback to them. I can't account for it. It isn't natural, and it seems wrongin me."
It was a rainy afternoon in which Clover made these reflections. Phil,weary of being shut indoors, had donned ulster and overshoes, and gone upto make a call on Mrs. Hope. Clover was quite alone in the house, as shesat with her mending-basket beside the fireplace, in which was burning thelast but three of the pinon logs,--Geoff Templestowe's Christmas present.
"They will just last us out," reflected Clover; "what a comfort they havebeen! I would like to carry the very last of them home with me, and keepit to look at; but I suppose it would be silly."
She looked about the little room. Nothing as yet had been moved ordisturbed, though the next week would bring their term of occupancy to aclose.
"This is a good evening to begin to take things down and pack them," shethought. "No one is likely to come in, and Phil is away."
She rose from her chair, moved restlessly to and fro, and at last leanedforward and unpinned a corner of one of the photographs on the wall. Shestood for a moment irresolutely with the pin in her fingers, then shejammed it determinedly back into the photograph again, and returned toher sewing. I almost think there were tears in her eyes.
"No," she said half aloud, "I won't spoil it yet. We'll have one morepleasant night with everything just as it is, and then I'll go to work andpull all to pieces at once. It's the easiest way."
Just then a foot sounded on the steps, and a knock was heard. Cloveropened the door, and gave an exclamation of pleasure. It was GeoffreyTemplestowe, splashed and wet from a muddy ride down the pass, but wearinga very bright face.
"How nice and unexpected this is!" was Clover's greeting. "It is such abad day that I didn't suppose you or Clarence could possibly get in. Cometo the fire and warm yourself. Is he here too?"
"No; he is out at the ranch. I came in to meet a man on business; but itseems there's a wash-out somewhere between here and Santa Fe, and my mantelegraphs that he can't get through till to-morrow noon."
"So you will spend the night in town."
"Yes. I took Marigold to the stable, and spoke to Mrs. Marsh about a room,and then I walked up to see you and Phil. How is he, by the way?"
"Quite well. I never saw him so strong or so jolly. Papa will hardlybelieve his eyes when we get back. He has gone up to the Hopes, but willbe in presently. You'll stay and take tea with us, of course."
"Thanks, if you will have me; I was hoping to be asked."
"Oh, we're only too glad to have you. Our time here is getting so shortthat we want to make the very most of all our friends; and by good luckthere is a can of oysters in the house, so I can give you something hot."
"Do you really go so soon?"
"Our lease is out next week, you know."
"Really; so soon as that?"
"It isn't soon. We have lived here nearly eight months."
"What a good time we have all had in this little house!" cried Geoff,regretfully. "It has been a sort of warm little centre to us homelesspeople all winter."
"You don't count yourself among the homeless ones, I hope, with such apleasant place as the High Valley to live in."
"Oh, the hut is all very well in its way, of course; but I don't look atit as a home exactly. It answers to eat and sleep in, and for a shelterwhen it rains; but you can't make much more of it than that. The only timeit ever seemed home-like in the least was when you and Mrs. Hope werethere. That week spoiled it for me for all time."
"That's a pity, if it's true, but I hope it isn't. It was a delightfulweek, though; and I think you do the valley an injustice. It's a beautifulplace. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to get supper."
"Let me help you."
"Oh, there is almost nothing to do. I'd much rather you would sit stilland rest. You are tired from your ride, I'm sure; and if you don't mind,I'll bring my blazer and cook the oysters here by the fire. I always didlike to 'kitch in the dining-room,' as Mrs. Whitney calls it."
Clover had set the tea-table before she sat down to sew, so there reallywas almost nothing to do. Geoff lay back in his chair and looked on with asort of dreamy pleasure as she went lightly to and fro, making herarrangements, which, simple as they were, had a certain dainty qualityabout them which seemed peculiar to all that Clover did,--twisted a trailof kinnikinnick about the butter-plate, laid a garnish of fresh parsley onthe slices of cold beef, and set a glass full of wild crocuses in themiddle of the table. Then she returned to the parlor, put the kettle,which had already begun to sing, on the fire, and began to stir and seasonher oysters, which presently sent out a savory smell.
"I have learned six ways of cooking oysters this winter," she announcedgleefully. "This is a dry-pan-roast. I wonder if you'll approve of it. AndI wonder why Phil doesn't come. I wish he would make haste, for these arenearly done."
"There he is now," remarked Geoff.
But instead it was Dr. Hope's office-boy with a note.
DEAR C.,--Mrs. Hope wants me for a fourth hand at whist, so I'm staying, if you don't mind. She says if it didn't pour so she'd ask you to come too. P.
"Well, I'm glad," said Clover. "It's been a dull day for him, and nowhe'll have a pleasant evening, only he'll miss you."
"I call it very inconsiderate of the little scamp," observed Geoff. "Hedoesn't know but that he's leaving you to spend the evening quite alone."
"Oh, boys don't think of things like that."
"Boys ought to, then. However, I can stand his absence, if you can!"
It was a very merry little meal to which they presently sat down, full ofthe charm which the unexpected brings with it. Clover had grown to regardGeoff as one of her very best friends, and was perfectly at her ease withhim, while to him, poor lonely fellow, such a glimpse of cosey home-lifewas like a peep at Paradise. He prolonged the pleasure as much aspossible, ate each oyster slowly, descanting on its flavor, and drank morecups of tea than were at all good for him, for the pleasure of havingClover pour them out. He made no further offers of help when supper wasended, but looked on with fascinated eyes as she cleared away and madethings tidy.
At last she finished and came back to the fire. There was a silence. Geoffwas first to break it. "It would seem like a prison to you, I am afraid,"he said abruptly.
"What would?"
"I was thinking of what you said about the High Valley."
"Oh!"
"You've only seen it in summer, you know. It's quite a different place inthe winter. I don't believe a--person--could live on the year round and becontented."
"It would depend upon the person, of course."
"If it were a lady,--yourself, for instance,--could it be made anywaytolerable, do you think? Of course, one might get away now and then--"
"I don't know. It's not easy to tell beforehand how people are going tofeel; but I can't imagine the High Valley ever seeming like a prison,"replied Clover, vexed to find herself blushing, and yet unable to help it,Geoff's manner had such an odd intensity in it.
"If I were sure that you could realize what it would be--" he beganimpetuously; then quieting himself, "but you don't. How could you? Ranchlife is well enough in summer for a short time by way of a frolic; but inwinter and spring with the Upper Canyon full of snow, and the road downmuddy and slippery, and the storms and short days, and the sense of beingshut in and lonely, it would be a dismal place for a lady. Nobody has aright to expect a woman to undergo such a life."
Clover absorbed herself in her sewing, she did not speak; but still thatdeep uncomfortable blu
sh burned on her cheeks.
"What do you think?" persisted Geoff. "Wouldn't it be inexcusableselfishness in a man to ask such a thing?"
"I think;" said Clover, shyly and softly, "that a man has a right to askfor whatever he wants, and--" she paused.
"And--what?" urged Geoff, bending forward.
"Well, a woman has always the right to say no, if she doesn't want to sayyes."
"You tempt me awfully," cried Geoff, starting up. "When I think what thisplace is going to seem like after you've gone, and what the ranch will bewith all the heart taken from it, and the loneliness made twice as lonelyby comparison, I grow desperate, and feel as if I could not let you gowithout at least risking the question. But Clover,--let me call you sothis once,--no woman could consent to such a life unless she cared verymuch for a man. Could you ever love me well enough for that, do youthink?"
"It seems to me a very unfair sort of question to put," said Clover, witha mischievous glint in her usually soft eyes. "Suppose I said I could, andthen you turned round and remarked that you were ever so sorry that youcouldn't reciprocate my feelings--"
"Clover," catching her hand, "how can you torment me so? Is it necessarythat I should tell you that I love you with every bit of heart that is inme, and need you and want you and long for you, but have never dared tohope that you could want me? Loveliest, sweetest, I do, and I alwaysshall, whether it is yes or no."
"Then, Geoff--if you feel like that--if you're quite sure you feel likethat, I think--"
"What do you think, dearest?"
"I think--that I could be very happy even in winter--in the High Valley."
And papa and the children, and the lonely and far-away feelings? There wasnever a mention of them in this frank acceptance. Oh, Clover, Clover,circumstances _do_ alter cases!
Mrs. Hope's rubber of whist seemed a long one, for Phil did not get hometill a quarter before eleven, by which time the two by the fire hadsettled the whole progress of their future lives, while the last logs ofthe pinon wood crackled, smouldered, and at length broke apart intoflaming brands. In imagination the little ranch house had thrown out asmany wings and as easily as a newly-hatched dragon-fly, had beenbeautified and made convenient in all sorts of ways,--a flower-garden hadsprouted round its base, plenty of room had been made for papa and thechildren and Katy and Ned, who were to come out continually for visits inthe long lovely summers; they themselves also were to go to and fro,--toBurnet, and still farther afield, over seas to the old Devonshire grangewhich Geoff remembered so fondly.
"How my mother and Isabel will delight in you," he said; "and the squire!You are precisely the girl to take his fancy. We'll go over and see themas soon as we can, won't we, Clover?"
Clover listened delightedly to all these schemes, but through them all,like that young Irish lady who went over the marriage service with herlover adding at the end of every clause, "Provided my father gives hisconsent," she interposed a little running thread of protest,--"If papa iswilling. You know, Geoff, I can't really promise anything till I've talkedwith papa."
It was settled that until Dr. Carr had been consulted, the affair was notto be called an engagement, or spoken of to any one; only Clover askedGeoff to tell Clarence all about it at once.
The thought of Clarence was, in truth, the one cloud in her happiness justthen. It was impossible to calculate how he would take the news. If itmade him angry or very unhappy, if it broke up his friendship with Geoff,and perhaps interfered with their partnership so that one or other of themmust leave the High Valley, Clover felt that it would grievously mar hercontentment. There was no use in planning anything till they knew how hewould feel and act. In any case, she realized that they were bound toconsider him before themselves, and make it as easy and as little painfulas possible. If he were vexatious, they must be patient; if sulky, theymust be forbearing.
Phil opened his eyes very wide at the pair sitting so coseyly over thefire when at last he came in.
"I say, have _you_ been here all the evening?" he cried. "Well, that's asell! I wouldn't have gone out if I'd known."
"We've missed you very much," quoth Geoff; and then he laughed as at someextremely good joke, and Clover laughed too.
"You seem to have kept up your spirits pretty well, considering," remarkedPhil, dryly. Boys of eighteen are not apt to enjoy jokes which do notoriginate with themselves; they are suspicious of them.
"I suppose I must go now," said Geoff, looking at his watch; "but I shallsee you again before I leave. I'll come in to-morrow after I've met myman."
"All right," said Phil; "I won't go out till you come."
"Oh, pray don't feel obliged to stay in. I can't at all tell when I shallbe able to get through with the fellow."
"Come to dinner if you can," suggested Clover. "Phil is sure to be at homethen."
Lovers are like ostriches. Geoff went away just shaking hands casually,and was very particular to say "Miss Carr;" and he and Clover felt thatthey had managed so skilfully and concealed their secret so well; yet thefirst remark made by Phil as the door shut was, "Geoff seems queerto-night, somehow, and so do you. What have you been talking about all theevening?"
An observant younger brother is a difficult factor in a love affair.
Two days passed. Clover looked in vain for a note from the High Valley tosay how Clarence had borne the revelation; and she grew more nervous withevery hour. It was absolutely necessary now to dismantle the house, andshe found a certain relief in keeping exceedingly busy. Somehow thebreak-up had lost its inexplicable pain, and a glad little voice sang allthe time at her heart, "I shall come back; I shall certainly come back.Papa will let me, I am sure, when he knows Geoff, and how nice he is."
She was at the dining-table wrapping a row of books in paper ready forpacking, when a step sounded, and glancing round she saw Clarence himselfstanding in the doorway. He did not look angry, as she had feared hemight, or moody; and though he avoided her eye at first, his face wasresolute and kind.
"Geoff has told me," were his first words. "I know from what he said thatyou, and he too, are afraid that I shall make myself disagreeable; so I'vecome in to say that I shall do nothing of the kind."
"Dear Clarence, that wasn't what Geoff meant, or I either," said Clover,with a rush of relief, and holding out both her hands to him; "what wewere afraid of was that you might be unhappy."
"Well," in a husky tone, and holding the little hands very tight, "itisn't easy, of course, to give up a hope. I've held on to mine all thistime, though I've told myself a hundred times that I was a fool for doingso, and though I knew in my heart it was no use. Now I've had two days tothink it over and get past the first shock, and, Clover, I've decided. Youand Geoff are the best friends I've got in the world. I never seemed tomake friends, somehow. Till you came to Hillsover that time nobody likedme much; I don't know why. I can't get along without you two; so I giveyou up without any hard feeling, and I mean to be as jolly as I can aboutit. After all, to have you at the High Valley will be a sort of happiness,even if you don't come for my sake exactly," with an attempt at a laugh.
"Clarence, you really are a dear boy! I can't tell you how I thank you,and how I admire you for being so nice about this."
"Then that's worth something, too. I'd do a good deal to win yourapproval, Clover. So it's all settled. Don't worry about me, or be afraidthat I shall spoil your comfort with sour looks. If I find I can't standit, I'll go away for a while; but I don't think it'll come to that. You'llmake a real home out of the ranch house, and you'll let me have my shareof your life, and be a brother to you and Geoff; and I'll try to be a goodone."
Clover was touched to the heart by these manful words so gently spoken.
"You shall be our dear special brother always," she said. "Only this wasneeded to make me quite happy. I am so glad you don't want to go away andleave us, or to have us leave you. We'll make the ranch over into thedearest little home in the world, and be so cosey there all together, andpapa and the others shall come out for
visits; and you'll like them somuch, I know, Elsie especially."
"Does she look like you?"
"Not a bit; she's ever so much prettier."
"I don't believe a word of that"
Clover's heart being thus lightened of its only burden by this treaty ofmutual amity, she proceeded joyously with her packing. Mrs. Hope said shewas not half sorry enough to go away, and Poppy upbraided her as a gaydeceiver without any conscience or affections. She laughed and protestedand denied, but looked so radiantly satisfied the while as to give a faircolor for her friends' accusations, especially as she could not explainthe reasons of her contentment or hint at her hopes of return. Mrs. Hopeprobably had her suspicions, for she was rather urgent with Clover toleave this thing and that for safe keeping "in case you ever come back;"but Clover declined these offers, and resolutely packed up everything witha foolish little superstition that it was "better luck" to do so, and thatpapa would like it better.
Quite a little group of friends assembled at the railway station to seeher and Phil set off. They were laden with flowers and fruit and "naturalsoda-water" with which to beguile the long journey, and with many goodwishes and affectionate hopes that they might return some day.
"Something tells me that you will," Mrs. Hope declared. "I feel it in mybones, and they hardly ever deceive me. My mother had the same kind; it'sin the family."
"Something tells me that you must," cried Poppy, embracing Clover; "butI'm afraid it isn't bones or anything prophetic, but only the fact that Iwant you to so very much."
From the midst of these farewells Clover's eyes crossed the valley andsought out Mount Cheyenne.
"How differently I should be feeling," she thought, "if this were goingaway with no real hope of coming back! I could hardly have borne to lookat you had that been the case, you dear beautiful thing; but I _am_ comingback to live close beside you always, and oh, how glad I am!"
"Is that good-by to Cheyenne?" asked Marian, catching the little wave of ahand.
"Yes, it _is_ good-by; but I have promised him that it shall soon behow-do-you-do again. Mount Cheyenne and I understand each other."
"I know; you have always had a sentimental attachment to that mountain.Now Pike's Peak is _my_ affinity. We get on beautifully together."
"Pike's Peak indeed! I am ashamed of you."
Then the train moved away amid a flutter of handkerchiefs, but stillClover and Phil were not left to themselves; for Dr. Hope, who had aconsultation in Denver, was to see them safely off in the night express,and Geoff had some real or invented business which made it necessary forhim to go also.
Clover carried with her through all the three days' ride the lingeringpressure of Geoff's hand, and his whispered promise to "come on soon." Itmade the long way seem short. But when they arrived, amid all the kissesand rejoicings, the exclamations over Phil's look of health and vigor, thegirls' intense interest in all that she had seen and done, papa's warmapproval of her management, her secret began to burn guiltily within her.What _would_ they all say when they knew?
And what did they say? I think few of you will be at a loss to guess.Life--real life as well as life in story-books--is full of such shocks andsurprises. They are half happy, half unhappy; but they have to be borne.Younger sisters, till their own turns come, are apt to take a severe viewof marriage plans, and to feel that they cruelly interrupt a past order ofthings which, so far as they are concerned, need no improvement. Andparents, who say less and understand better, suffer, perhaps, more. "Tobear, to rear, to lose," is the order of family history, generallyunexpected, always recurring.
But true love is not selfish. In time it accustoms itself to anythingwhich secures happiness for its object. Dr. Carr did confide to Katy in amoment of private explosion that he wished the Great West had never beeninvented, and that such a prohibitory tax could be laid upon youngEnglishmen as to make it impossible that another one should ever be landedon our shores; but he had never in his life refused Clover anything uponwhich she had set her heart, and he saw in her eyes that her heart wasvery much set on this. John and Elsie scolded and cried, and then in timebegan to talk of their future visits to High Valley till they grew toanticipate them, and be rather in a hurry for them to begin. Geoff'sarrival completed their conversion.
"Nicer than Ned," Johnnie pronounced him; and even Dr. Carr was forced toconfess that the sons-in-law with which Fate had provided him were of asuperior sort; only he wished that they didn't want to marry _his_ girls!
Phil, from first to last, was in favor of the plan, and a firm ally to thelovers. He had grown extremely Western in his ideas, and was persuaded inhis mind that "this old East," as he termed it, with its punypossibilities, did not amount to much, and that as soon as he was oldenough to shape his own destinies, he should return to the only section ofthe country worthy the attention of a young man of parts. Meanwhile, hewas perfectly well again, and willing to comply with his father's desirethat before he made any positive arrangements for his future, he shouldget a sound and thorough education.
"So you are actually going out to the wild and barbarous West, to live on a ranch, milk cows, chase the wild buffalo to its lair, and hold the tiger-cat by its favorite forelock," wrote Rose Red. "What was that you were saying only the other day about nice convenient husbands, who cruise off for 'good long times,' and leave their wives comfortably at home with their own families? And here you are planning to marry a man who, whenever he isn't galloping after cattle, will be in your pocket at home! Oh, Clover, Clover, how inconsistent a thing is woman,--not to say girl,--and what havoc that queer deity named Cupid does make with preconceived opinions! I did think I could rely on you; but you are just as bad as the rest of us, and when a lad whistles, go off after him wherever he happens to lead, and think it the best thing possible to do so. It's a mad world, my masters; and I'm thankful that Roslein is only four and a half years old."
And Clover's answer was one line on a postal card,--
"Guilty, but recommended to mercy!"
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