CHAPTER X.
The sun had traversed half the distance from the horizon to the zenithwhen Rutley called at Rosemont for information concerning theseriousness of Sam's injuries, and incidentally to have a chat withHazel, for he was very fond of the girl.
"We appreciate your lordship's anxiety to learn of Sam's condition,and I am sure Sam will express to you his gratefulness for promptlybringing him home," added Mrs. Harris.
"I am glad he is able to be about," continued Rutley, looking at thefloor, "though I should imagine a few days of quiet rest after such avigorous shake-up would be attended by beneficial results."
"I am sure of it," said Mr. Harris; "for immediately he regainedconsciousness there seemed to come over him a worry about something--"
"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Harris, in surprise. "I cannot conceive Sambeing worried about anything."
"Nevertheless, my dear, the boy did appear worried last night, orrather early this morning, and though he spoke and acted quiterational, still it has given me much concern." Again turning toRutley, "And imagine my astonishment, too, when on going to his roomearly this morning I found he had gone."
"He hadn't even been in bed--had evidently not undressed--just flunghimself down on the couch."
"You don't apprehend the wound exerts undue pressure on the brain?"queried Rutley, in the most carefully studied manner, as he lookedmeaningly at Mr. Harris.
"James, you should have insisted on the doctor remaining with the dearboy over night."
"My dear, Sam would not listen to it. I think nervousness and agloriously fresh morning urged him to an early walk, and his returnhas been delayed by meeting some friends."
"Quite likely," responded Rutley.
"If Sam continues to worry, I shall advise a trip to Texas. Thebracing air of that latitude has heretofore proven very beneficial tohis constitution."
"A happy idea, Mr. Harris," and the grave, concerned look that hadsettled on Rutley's face relaxed and vanished in a smile of cunningsatisfaction, as he thought how agreeable it would be to have thattroublesome fellow out of the way. "I have crossed that country andcan testify to the purity, dryness and health invigorating quality ofits air. Indeed, I do not think you could suggest a more wholesomevacation than a month of rollicking, free life on the Texas plains."
"A trip to Texas may all be very well in its way, but I know somethingof the dear boy's malady and believe that no climatic change,temporary or prolonged, can be of the least benefit to him,"impressively broke in Mrs. Harris.
"Well, well! Now I do remember that when a boy Sam fell and severelyhurt his left knee; and so the old complaint is asserting itselfagain, eh? You see, Your Lordship"----
"Dear me! How stupid men are!" interrupted Mrs. Harris, with muchdignity.
"Ah! James, the dear boy's affliction is of deeper moment. Itlacerates the very source and fountain of life. It is, I may add, anaffair of the heart."
"Oh! You don't tell Sam is--is--ahem, ahem!"--and to suppress a smile Mr.Harris coughed.
"It is possible you misconceive your most estimable lady's meaning,"suggested Rutley, with a smile. "Perhaps it is a case of heartfailure."
"Nonsense!"
"James!" quickly retorted Mrs. Harris, with asperity.
Mr. Harris looked meaningly at her, then turned to Rutley. "I beg YourLordship's pardon. I did not mean to ridicule your suggestion. At thetime I used the word 'nonsense' I was thinking of the fact, the one oflove," replied Mr. Harris.
"James! I never thought when I plighted my love to you it wasnonsense!" and Mrs. Harris brushed a handkerchief across her eyes.
"There, there, dear heart!" and Mr. Harris stepped to her side,tenderly turned her face upward and kissed her lips. "That day was thehappiest of my life, though I have been happy ever since."
"Heart of gold!" exclaimed Mrs. Harris, smiling through her tears."And I have never wished I had turned from that altar of our happyunion."
"I perceive the cause of Sam's worry now, dear," and the irrepressibleMr. Harris turned to Rutley, "You see, My Lord, it is this way, alovely young lady guest--since Mr. Corway's strange disappearance--is aninadvertent companion of our Sam, and his troubles were brought on bythe sly darts of a little fellow with wings."
"Wrong again!" asserted Mrs. Harris. "James, let me assure you in allcandor that Hazel Brooke is not the lady our Sam is worrying about, asthe fair democrat can testify."
Just then Hazel entered the room, a poem of grace; a rose glowoverspread her soft cheeks, while her eyes sparkled with health andvivacity.
Rutley's eyes at once betrayed his admiration.
The girl was quick to notice it and immediately evinced her pleasureby advancing straight to his side.
"Good morning, My Lord. When I plucked this beauty," displaying aslender stemmed white chrysanthemum which was held between herfingers, "I instinctively felt that it was to adorn the breast of adistinguished friend, and now see where it flies for rest," and shesmilingly fastened the flower to the lapel of his coat.
"I shall proudly treasure it, for without doubt its chrysalis chastityis jealous of its human rival, hence the parting of the two flowers.Is it not so?" questioned Rutley, with the most winsome, yet gravesmile he could fashion.
"Hazel--the Lady Beauchamp, sounds quite recherche," Mrs. Harriswhispered to Mr. Harris.
"Looks as if it might be a go," he responded in like tones.
"It is white and pretty," Hazel murmured, casting a demure glance ather own faultlessly white dress and then naively remarked, while aserious question stole over her countenance:
"I have just come from the water front, where I have been watching themen drag for poor little Dorothy."
"Poor child! So sad to be drowned!" said Mrs. Harris, in a reflectivemood.
"Or stolen!" exclaimed Mr. Harris. "I shall not give up hope untilthat old cripple is located."
Only Hazel noticed the swift glance Rutley shot at Mr. Harris, but shegave it no significance.
"Poor fellow, he feels the loss of his child very deeply," continuedMr. Harris. "Yesterday Thorpe was in one of the boats for three hours.My Lord may see them dragging the river from the piazza." WhereuponMr. Harris and Rutley went out on the piazza, leaving Mrs. Harris andHazel by themselves.
"Hazel, dear," spoke Mrs. Harris softly and confidentially, "there isa lady's tiara awaiting you, if my judgment is not faulty."
"He seems to be a nice sort of man," replied the girl.
"A nice sort of man!" remarked Mrs. Harris, astonished. "Why, Hazel!He is one of the nobility. Superior, distinguished! Do you note hiscondescending air? It is hereditary, my dear. Conscious of being aboveus, yet every look and move indicates a study to make a descent to ourlevel."
"Notwithstanding--I think--well--I prefer Joe!" demurely insisted themaid. "He is not quite so polished, but--I like him better, anyway."
"What! A commoner to a lord? A straw hat to a lady's tiara? Why,Hazel!"
"That is my choice," replied the girl, quietly but firmly.
Hazel's calm dignity irritated Mrs. Harris, and she remarked with apuzzled expression of countenance, "Dear me! I never could understandthe fountain of your democratic ideas, Hazel; and the enigma is deeperto me now than ever."
Hazel's reply, muttered with the same quiet dignity, was as puzzlingto Mrs. Harris as ever. "I am an American, and I love our country toowell to leave it for some foreign land."
Further conversation was cut short by Mr. Harris, who addressed Hazel.
"Did you notice John Thorpe in one of the boats, Hazel?"
"I think so; they were too far away to say positively," replied thegirl.
"Well, here comes Sam, and--and--yes, it's Virginia Thorpe!" exclaimedMr. Harris exultantly turning to Mrs. Harris.
"Did I not say it was possible he had met with a friend? Look howproud and joyous he seems walking by her side. No kink in his kneenow. Sound as a bell."
"James, I beg again to correct you. Sam is not lame. His malady hassomething to do w
ith the charming lady by his side," remarked Mrs.Harris.
"Oh, I see. She has a pull on him, eh?"
"Yes, a most strenuous one, I may add, as you mere merchants speak ofit."
When Sam entered the room, he was greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Harris withmuch fervor.
Sam had removed his hat in the vestibule and unconsciously displayedthe evidence of his night's encounter with the automobile. The sightof the plastered wound on his head caused Mrs. Harris to exclaim:
"Oh, my boy, my boy!" and she put her motherly arms about his neck.
"All right, aunty!" said Sam, as he lightly kissed her on theforehead. "Never felt better. Just a scratch. Might have been worse.Eh? I guess so!" and he held her at arms' length and grinned at heraffectionately.
"Where is Virginia? I am sure we saw her with you, Sam!" questionedMr. Harris.
"She wouldn't come in, uncle. Gone on down to the shore. She expresseda wish to find you there."
"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Harris, with alacrity. "I shan't disappoint her.Splendid young lady. Brainy, good-looking, very fetching, eh, Sam?"and so saying, he turned, bowed to Rutley and left the room.
"I am thankful you were not killed, and think how much we owe hislordship for having so promptly brought you home," continued Mrs.Harris.
Sam looked sharply at Rutley, not having noticed him in the roombefore.
Rutley met his stare with a most affable bow and remarked, "I ampleased to see that Mr. Samuel Harris is able to be about."
There was a bit of keen cynicism, a sort of faltering regret inRutley's delivery, which did not escape detection by Sam.
It almost confirmed him in his suspicion that My Lord had run him downin a deliberate attempt to kill or disable him. The impression causedhim momentarily to withhold speech, even in his aunt's presence. Theincident was noticed by Mrs. Harris, who at once concluded somethingwas amiss with Sam, and visions of dementia occasioned by the woundflitted across her brain.
"Dear me! What is coming over him?" she remarked in an awed voice. "Henever acted so queer before. Sam!" and she shook him and looked in hisface as though she feared some distressing discovery.
Rutley was perceptibly uneasy under Sam's steady stare and suddenlyassumed a pose of freezing haughtiness, deliberately and with studiedceremony adjusted the monocle to his eye and fixed a stony stare atSam.
Then he turned to Hazel, the very apotheosis of stilted grace and,offering her his arm, said in his most suave and gracious manner:
"I shall be deeply sensible of the honor of your company for a strollon the lawn."
For a moment the girl hesitated, as though undecided between courtesydue her hostess and friendliness to My Lord.
Observing the embarrassed expression of Mrs. Harris caused by Sam'srudeness, she chose to accept Rutley's arm, remarking, "It is so verybeautiful this morning that I love to be out in the soft sunshine."
Then through the room they passed--passed Mrs. Harris, to whom Rutleybent his head, passed Sam, who might as well have been in theAntipodes, for all Rutley seemed to see of him, though he lookeddirectly at him, through him, and beyond him, out into the sunshine,with a triumphant smile playing about the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, Sam! you have humiliated me beyond anything I could ever dreamof," said Mrs. Harris, whose pain and bewilderment was plainlyevident.
"Aunty!" and Sam stooped and gently kissed her forehead.
"I'm sorry my rudeness got the best of me. I did not mean to offend orpain you; but I shall never apologize to that fellow. Never! Never!"
His earnestness was so intense, so unlike his usual self, that hisaunt abruptly arose from the chair and in a startled voice said, "Dearme! Why, what do you know, Sam?"
"Why!"--and Sam's face broke into a broad smile, his usual buoyantspirit asserting itself--"why, bless your dear soul, aunty, he's avillain!"
"Lord Beauchamp a villain!" she exclaimed, horrified, and shestraightened up in offended dignity.
"Sam, permit me to declare you shock me with your irreverence."
"Well, he gave me the jolt"----
"Not another word!" and she held up her warning finger. "I perceive itmy duty, a duty unhappily too long deferred, to instruct you in theart of proper form, especially when in the presence of the nobility,"and so saying, she swept down the room with all the stately majesty ofa grand dame.
At the mantle she turned and continued, "The case being important, Ishall read you a lesson on deportment by--by, dear me! I have forgottenthe author's name. But that is immaterial. I shall get the book fromthe library. Don't leave the room," and so saying she entered thelibrary, to his great relief.
Sam was in a very serious frame of mind. The night's work haddeveloped tragic possibilities, and anything of a lugubrious natureinterposing in his trend of thought was dismissed at once.
It was, therefore, no easy task for him to assume readily an air ofnonchalance, even in the presence of his aunt, who had schooled him inthe art. So the moment he was alone his thoughts plunged again intothe absorbing events of the night, and presently he found himselfconsidering the policy of making his aunt a confidant.
"Had I better tell her my suspicions?" he thought; "she will askawkward questions. No, it will not do! Not yet!"
He was aroused from his reverie by a low, deep whispered "Sst!"Looking up, he saw Smith peeping from behind the half open vestibuledoor.
Smith dared not enter the room for fear of disturbing Mrs. Harris andexciting her curiosity. He saw her enter the library and then hesignaled to Sam. Having caught his attention, he held up a warningfinger and again repeated "Sst!" adding in a whisper, "Ave someimpartant news to tell yees."
It was well that Smith enjoined caution, for his eyes were expandedand aglow with excitement, and the muscles of his face, tense withserious import, twitched nervously.
Sam's exclamation of concern died on his lips, and he at once steppedinto the vestibule, alert with expectation. Softly closing the door,he said, "What is it, Smith? Speak low and be quick. Aunty is inthere"--and he indicated with his thumb the library.
"Sure, she's in good company, God presarve them. Will yees listen,plaise?"
"Yes, hurry!"
"Whill. I flim-flammed around the scow dwellin's an' shanties on theneck ave lant betwix Giles Lak an' the river--just beyant the NarthPacific Mills, but divil a wan be the name ave Garge Golda cud I foindat all. Sure, I was nearly dishartened entirely, so I wus, whin whoshud bump forninst me but me frint Kelly."
"Well?" grunted Sam.
"Kelly is a longshoreman, and he understands his business, too, so hedo; but he says he's too big and fat to wurruk much, an' I belaivehim, too, so I do."
"Well, go on!" again grunted Sam, impatiently.
"Sure, I showed him the Garibaldi you gave me this marnin. 'Where didyees foind that?' says he, careless like.
"'I didn't foind it at all,' says I; 'my frint found it.'
"'Where at?' says he.
"'In the City Park,' says I. 'Some fellow lost it last night.'
"'Sure?' says he, an' he looked at me hard.
"'Sure!' says I. 'Phwat wud I be lyin' to yees fer?'
"'An' phwat was the owner doin' out in the City Park last night?' sayshe.
"'Divil a bit do I know,' says I.
"'D'yees know him?' says he.
"'Faith, an' I do not; d'yees?' says I.
"'Indade I do,' says he.
"'Yees do?' says I.
"'I do,' says he, 'fer a black-browed, black-moustached, divil-skinneddago.'
"'Where may be his risidence?' says I, not wan bit anxious, but withme best efforts to kape me heart from jumpin' up in me mout'.
"'He lives in a scow cabin up beyant there, at Ross Island,' says he.
"'He do, do he?' says I.
"'He do!' says he. 'Sure, ave I not talked wit him over that same bitave bronze but yisterday?'"
"'Will yees show me the scow cabin?' says I.
"'Indade I'll do that same,' says he, 'and wan thing more,' s
ays he.
"Hist!" and Smith spoke very low and cautiously. "He heard a childcry--or maybe it was a cat. Kelly didn't know which, not bein'interested."
The two stared at each other for a moment in silence, then Sam said:"How long has your friend Kelly known him?"
"I don't knaw--sure, I didn't ax him, but I thought it was impartant totell yees at once. Kelly is waitin' down be the shipyard. Will yeescome?"
"I'll meet both of you there in an hour. Sh! Aunty is coming. Mum isthe word, Smith!"
"Sure, the ould divil himself cudn't make me tell it to yees aunt." Ashe was leaving, Smith said in a whisper, "We'll wait for yees."
"I'll be along soon," replied Sam, and he muttered thoughtfully, "Maybe something in it."
An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New West Page 16