Red Rock: A Chronicle of Reconstruction

by Thomas Nelson Page

  CHAPTER XXXII

  A CUT DIRECT AND A REJECTED ADDRESS

  The revelation that Steve made to Jacquelin in their law-office thenight the bill was filed, seemed suddenly to have opened life again toJacquelin. Looking back over the past, he could now see how foolish hehad been. Incidents which he had construed one way now, in the lightof Steve’s disclosure, took on a new complexion. He appeared to havesprung suddenly into a new and rarer atmosphere. Hope was easily wortheverything else in Pandora’s box. When he began to visit at Dr. Cary’sagain, it must be said, that he could discern no change in Blair. Easyand charming as she always was to others, to him she was as constrainedas formerly. She treated him with the same coldness that she had alwaysshown him since that fatal evening when he had taken her to taskabout Middleton, and then had alleged that it was on Steve’s account.However, he was not to be cast down now. With the key which Steve hadgiven him he could afford to wait and was willing to serve for hismistake, and he set down her treatment of him simply to a woman’scaprice. He would bide his time until the occasion came and then hewould win her. According to Steve, she had no idea that he was stillin love with her, and according to the same expert authority, this waswhat she waited for. He had first to prove his love, and then he shouldfind that he had hers. So through the long summer months he servedfaithfully. Each time that he saw Blair he found himself more deeplyin love than before; and each time he feared more to tell her of it,lest Steve’s diagnosis should possibly prove wrong. He knew that thenext time he opened the subject it must be final. He even stood seeingMcRaffle visiting Dr. Cary’s, though he fumed and smouldered internallyover a man like McRaffle being in Blair’s presence, however smoothhe was. Steve declared that McRaffle was in love with Miss Welch,but Jacquelin knew better. Steve was such a jealous creature that hethought everyone was in love with Miss Welch—even that Wash Still was,whom Miss Welch would not so much as look at. No, McRaffle was in lovewith Blair. Jacquelin knew it—just as he knew that Middleton was. Shecould not bear McRaffle, of course; but the thought of Middleton oftencrossed Jacquelin’s mind, and discomposed him. He had heard of thehonors Middleton had won in the Northwest and of his retirement fromthe service. Blair had told him of it with undue enthusiasm. Confoundhim! When that Indian bullet hit him most men would have died. Thenas his thought ran this way Jacquelin would haul himself up short,with a feeling of hot shame that such an ignoble idea could even enterhis mind, and next time he saw Blair would speak of Middleton withunmeasured admiration.

  At length he could wait no longer. He would tell her how he had alwaysloved her. Steve was his confidant, as he was Steve’s, and Steve agreedthat this was the thing to do.

  Alas! for masculine wisdom! The way of a serpent on a rock is notharder than that of a maid with a man. An opportunity presented itselfone afternoon in which everything appeared so propitious that Jacquelinfelt as though the time were made for his occasion. He and Blair hadbeen to ride. The summer woods had been heavenly in their peacefulnessand charm. Blair had insensibly fallen into a softer mood than sheusually showed him, and, as they had talked of old times, she hadseemed sweeter to him than ever before. He had spoken to her of Rupert,and of his anxiety about the boy; of his association with McRaffle, andof the influence McRaffle seemed to have obtained over him; and Blairhad responded with a warmth which had set his heart to bounding. Mr.McRaffle was a dangerous, bad man, she declared, and she was doing allshe could to counteract his evil influence over Rupert. Her sweetnessto Jacquelin was such that he had hardly been able to restrain himselffrom opening his heart to her then and there, and asking her to letthe past be bygones and accept his love. But he had waited until theyshould reach home, and now they were at the door. She invited himto stay to tea. Her voice thrilled him. Jacquelin suddenly began tospeak to her of what was in his heart. She dropped her eyes and he wasconscious that she was trembling. In his constraint he referred to thepast, and faltered something about Steve having set him right. Shelooked up quickly. He did not heed it, but went on and said all he hadso often rehearsed, with a good deal more than he had planned to say.Perhaps he gathered confidence as he went on—perhaps he showed it alittle too much; for he became conscious somehow that she was not asresponsive as she had been just before.

  When he was quite through, he waited. She also waited a moment, andthen began.

  She did not care for him, except as a relative, and she never expectedto marry at all. She was not looking at him, and was evidently speakingunder strong feeling.

  Jacquelin’s hopes were all dashed to the ground. His throat feltparched, and when he tried to speak again his lips did not frame hiswords easily.

  “May I ask if you care for anyone else?” he demanded, in a constrainedvoice.

  “She did not know that he had any right to ask her such a question. Shehad already told him that she never expected to marry anyone.” She hadgrown more formal.

  Jacquelin was sure now that she cared for Middleton, and she had simplymisled Steve.

  “What did you tell Steve?” he asked.

  She faced him, her figure quite straight and strong, her flashing eyesfastened searchingly on his face.

  “So that’s the reason you have come! Steve told you to come, and youhave come to say what he told you to say. Well, go back to him and tellhim I say he was mistaken.” Her lip curled as she turned on her heel.

  “No—no—Blair—wait one moment!” But she had walked slowly into thehouse, and Jacquelin saw her climb the stair.

  A moment later he mounted his horse, and came slowly away down the roadhe knew so well, the road to Vain regret, beyond which, somewhere, liesDespair.

  He knew now it was Middleton who had barred his way, and that to keepher secret, Blair had misled Steve. He might have forgiven her allelse, but he could not forgive that.

  When Jacquelin announced the result of his proposal to Steve, thatwise counsellor laughed at him. He could make it up in ten minutes, hedeclared, and he rode up to see Blair next day. His interview lastedsomewhat longer than he had expected, and most of the time he had beendefending himself against Blair’s scathing attack. When he left, it waswith a feeling that he had done both Blair and Jacquelin an injury, andwhen he saw Jacquelin, he summed up his position briefly: “Well, Jack,I give it up. I thought I knew something of men and women; but I giveup women.”

  After his interview with Major Welch, Captain Allen had appeared to bein better spirits than he had been in for some time. Even the letter hereceived from that gentleman did not wholly dash his hopes, and thoughthey occasionally sank, they as often rallied again. We know from thegreatest of novelists that when a man is cudgelling his brains forother rhymes to “sorrow” besides “borrow” and “to-morrow,” he is nearerlight than he thinks. Steve found this safety-scape.

  Jacquelin did not write poetry or even “poems” on the subject of hisdisappointment; but his cheek-bones began to show more, and his chinbegan to take on a firmer set.

  But Captain Allen was soon plunged as deep in the abyss as Jacquelin.

  He was sitting in his office looking out of the window one afternoon,a habit that had grown on him of late, when a pair of riders, a ladyand her escort, rode up the street, in plain view of where he sat. Atsight of the trim figure sitting her horse so jauntily, Steve’s heartgave a bound and a light came into his eyes. The next instant a cloudfollowed as he recognized Miss Welch’s companion as Dr. WashingtonStill. Rumor had reported that Dr. Still was with her a good deal oflate. Miss Thomasia and Blair had met them one evening visiting a poorwoman together. McRaffle had taken the trouble to state that he hadfrequently met them.

  Steve could not believe that such a girl as Ruth Welch could beaccepting the addresses of such a man as young Dr. Still. She could notknow him. He followed the girl, with his eyes, as long as she was inview. For some moments afterward he sat with a dogged resolution on hisface; but it gradually faded away, and he rose and went out, passingdown to the street. He had not seen Ruth Welch face to face since thefiling
of Jacquelin’s suit. But she had never been absent from histhoughts for a moment. He had heard that both she and Mrs. Welch had agreat deal of feeling about the suit, and that both had spoken bitterlyof him; but Major Welch had received him civilly, even though he haddenied his request to be allowed to offer himself as Ruth’s suitor.

  With a combination of emotions, rather than with any single idea in hismind, Steve strode into the village and up the street. He wanted to getaway, and he wanted to be near her and have a look in her face; but hehad no definite intention of letting her see him, none, at least, ofmeeting her. But as he turned a corner into a shady street they werecoming back and Steve saw that even at a distance Ruth Welch knew him.He could not turn back; so kept on, and as they passed him he raisedhis hat. Miss Welch’s escort, with a supercilious look on his face,raised his hat; but the girl looked Steve full in the eyes and cut himdead. The blood sprang into Steve’s face. For any sign she gave, excepta sudden whitening, and a contraction of the mouth, she might neverhave seen him before in all her life. The next second Steve heard hervoice starting apparently a very animated conversation with her escort,and heard him reply:

  “Hurrah! for you, that will settle him;” and break into a loud laugh.

  Steve did not return to his office that evening. He spent the nightwandering about in blind and hopeless gloom. But had Mr. Allen knownwhat occurred during the remainder of that ride he might have found init some consolation.

  Miss Ruth had hardly gotten out of hearing of Captain Allen, and herescort had scarcely had time to turn over in his mind his enjoymentof his rival’s discomfiture and his own triumph, when the young ladyinexplicably changed and turned on him so viciously and with so bitinga sarcasm that he was almost dumfounded. The occasion for her changewas so slight that Wash Still was completely mystified. It was onlysome slighting little speech he made about the man she had just cutdead.

  “Why don’t you say that to Captain Allen?” she asked, with a suddenflush on her face and a flash in her eyes. “You, at least, have not theexcuse of not speaking to him.”

  Women have this in common with the Deity, that their ways are pastfinding out. The young doctor was completely mystified; but he couldnot comprehend how Miss Welch could have cut Captain Allen without it,in some way, redounding to his own advantage, and, notwithstanding herfierceness and coldness toward him, he believed it was a favorable timefor him.

  The ride home through the woods in the soft summer afternoon presentedan opportunity he had been seeking for some time, and the attitudeRuth had shown toward his rival appeared to him to indicate thateverything was propitious. Even her attack he construed as only a flashof feminine caprice. After her little explosion, Miss Welch had lapsedinto silence, and rode with her eyes on her horse’s mane and her lipsfirmly closed. The young man took it for remorse for her conduct, anddrawing up to her side, began to talk of himself and of his affairs.Ruth listened in silence—so silently, indeed, that she scarcely seemedto be listening at all—and the young doctor was moved to enlargesomewhat eloquently on his prospects as the owner of both Birdwood andRed Rock, the handsomest places in the County. Presently, however,he changed, and as they reached a shady place in the road, began toaddress her. He stated that he thought she had given him reason tohope he might be successful. The change in Ruth was electric. She gavesuddenly a vehement gesture of wild dissent:

  “Oh! No! no! Don’t!” she cried, and drew her horse to a stand, turningin the road and facing the young man. “No! no! You have misunderstoodme! How could you think so? I have never done it! I never dreamed ofit! It is impossible!” The deep color sprang to her face, but the nextmoment she controlled herself by a strong effort, and faced the youngman again. “Dr. Still,” she said, calmly and with deep earnestness,“I am sure that, wittingly, I never gave you the least warrant tothink—to suppose that I could—that you might say to me what you havesaid. My conscience tells me this; but if I have ever done or saidanything that appeared to you to be a ground to build a hope on, I amdeeply sorry, and humbly beg your pardon. I beg you to believe me, Inever intended it. I do not wish to appear hard or—cruel, but I musttell you now that there is not the slightest hope for you, and neverwill be. I do not love you, I never could love, and I will nevermarry, you, never.” She could not have spoken more strongly.

  The young man’s face, which had begun by being pale, had now turnedcrimson, and he broke out, almost violently—reiterating that she hadgiven him ground to think himself favored. He cited the rides she hadtaken with him. Ruth’s eyes opened wide and her form straightened:

  “I do not wish to discuss this further. I have told you the simpletruth. I should prefer that you go on ahead of me—I prefer to ridehome alone.”

  “Why did you cut Steve Allen this evening?” Dr. Still persisted,angrily.

  Ruth’s face hardened.

  “Certainly not on your account,” she said, coldly, “or for any reasonthat you will understand. Go; I will ride home alone.”

  “I used to think you were in love with him, and so did everybody else,”persisted he; “but it can’t be him. Is it that young jackanapes, RupertGray? He’s in love with you, but I didn’t suppose you to be in lovewith a boy like that.”

  Ruth’s face flamed with indignation.

  “By what right do you question me as to such things? Go, I will ridehome alone.” She drew her horse back and away from him. The young manhesitated for a moment, but Ruth was inexorable.

  “If you please—go!” she said, coldly, pointing down the road.

  “Well, I will go,” he burst out, angrily. “But Rupert Gray and thewhole set of ’em had better look out for me,” and with a growl of rage,he struck his horse and galloped away.

  Miss Welch rode on alone, her heart moved by conflictingemotions—indignation, apprehension—and yet others, deeper thanthese. What right had this man to treat her so? She flushed again withindignation as she thought of his insolence. It seemed to her almost aninsult to have been addressed by him. She went over in her mind herconduct toward him. There never was one thing of which he could have aright to complain. Of this she was sure. It could not be otherwise, forshe had never for a moment been free from a consciousness of antipathyto him. Then she went over her present situation, the situation of herfather and mother, now so lonely and cut off from everyone. The cool,still woods, the deserted road, the far-reaching silence, were such asto inspire loneliness and sadness, and Ruth was on the verge of tearswhen the gallop of a horse came to her from ahead. She wondered if itcould be Wash Still returning, and a momentary wave of apprehensionswept over her. The next instant Rupert Gray cantered in sight. Ruth’sfirst thought was one of relief, the next was that she ought to becool to him. But as the boy galloped up to her, his young face glowingwith pleasure, and reined in his horse, all her intended formalitydisappeared, and she returned his greeting cordially.

  “Well, I am in luck,” he exclaimed. “Mayn’t I ride home with you?” Hehad assumed her consent, and turned his horse without waiting for it.

  “I am afraid you may be going somewhere and I may detain you.”

  “No, indeed; I am my own master,” he said, with a toss of his head.“Besides, I don’t like you to be riding so late all by yourself.”

  The imitation of Steve Allen’s protecting manner was so unmistakablethat Ruth could not help smiling.

  “Oh! I’m not afraid. No one would interfere with me.”

  “They’d better not! If they did, they’d soon hear from me,” declaredthe boy, warmly, with that mannish toss of the head which boys have.“I’d soon show ’em who Rupert Gray is. Oh! I say! I met Washy Still upthe road yonder, a little way back, looking as sour as vinegar, andyou ought to have seen the way I cut him. I passed him just like this”(giving an imitation of his stare), “and you just ought to have seenthe way he looked. He looked as if he’d have liked to shoot me.” Heburst into a clear, merry laugh.

  The boy’s description of himself was so exactly like the way Ruth hadtreated Steve, th
at she could not forbear smiling. The smile died away,however, and an expression of seriousness took its place.

  “Rupert, I don’t think it well to make enemies of people——”

  “Who? Of Washy Still? Pshaw! He knows I hate him—and he hates me. Idon’t care. I want him to hate me. I’ll make him hate me worse beforeI’m done.” It was the braggadocio of a boy.

  Ruth thought of the gleam of hate that had come into the man’s eyes.“He might do you an injury.”

  “Who? Washy Still? Let him try it. I’m a better man than he is, anyday. But he’d never try it. He’s afraid to look me in the eyes. Youdon’t like him, do you?” he asked with sudden earnestness.

  “No, but I think you underestimate him.”

  “Pshaw! He can’t hurt you—not unless you took his physic—no otherway. I asked if you liked him, because—because some people thought youdid, and I said you didn’t—I knew you didn’t. I say, I want to ask yousomething. I wish you wouldn’t let him come to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why, because he is not a man you ought to associate with—he is nota gentleman. He’s a sneak, and his father’s a thief. He stole ourplace—just stole it—besides everything else he’s stolen.”

  “Why, you say we—my father had something to do with that,” said Ruth,quietly.

  “What! You! Your father?—I said he stole!” He reined up his horse, inhis amazement.

  “In your suit or bill, or whatever you call it.” Ruth felt that it wascruel in her to strike him such a blow, yet she enjoyed it.

  “I never did—we never did—you are mistaken,” stammered the boy. “Why,I wouldn’t have done it for the whole of Red Rock—no more would Steve.Let me explain. I know all about it.”

  Ruth looked acquiescent, and as they walked their horses along underthe trees the boy tried to explain the matter. He was not very lucid,for he was often confused; but he made clear the desire they had had tokeep Major Welch out of the matter, and the sincerity of their motivein giving him the notice before he should buy, and the anxiety they hadhad and the care they had taken to make it clear in their suit that nocharge of personal knowledge by him was intended. He also informed Ruthof Steve’s action in the matter, and of the episode in the office thatnight when the bill was signed, or, at least, of as much of it as hehad heard.

  “But why did he do that?” asked Ruth.

  “Don’t you know?”

  “N—o.” Very doubtfully and shyly.

  “Steve’s in love with you!”

  “What? Oh, no! You are mistaken.” Ruth was conscious that her reply wassilly and weak, and that she was blushing violently.

  “Yes, he is—dead in love. Why, everybody knows it—at least Jack does,and Blair does, and I do. And I am, too,” he added, warmly. The boy’singenuous declaration steadied Ruth and soothed her. She looked at himwith a pleased and gratified light on her face.

  “I am—I am dead in love with you, too. I think you are the prettiestand sweetest and kindest young lady in the whole world—just as niceas Blair, every bit; and I just wish I was older—I just wish youcould marry me.” He was blushing and turning white by turns, and theexpression on his young face was so ingenuous and sweet and modest, andthe light in his eyes so adoring, that the girl’s heart went out tohim. She drew her horse over to his side, and put her hand softly onhis arm.

  “Rupert, you are a dear, sweet boy, and, at least, you will let me beyour best friend, and you will be mine,” she said, sweetly.

  “Yes, I will, and I think you are just as good as you can be, and I’llbe just like your own brother, if you will let me.”

  “Indeed, I will, and we will always be sister and brother to eachother.”

  “Thank you,” he said, simply. A moment later he said, reining in hishorse, “I say, if you think that suit means anything against yourfather, I’ll have it stopped.”

  “No, no, Rupert; I am satisfied,” Ruth protested, with a smile.

  “Because I can do it; Jack and Steve would do anything for me, and Iwould do anything for you. It was mainly on my account, anyhow, thatthey brought it, I believe,” he added. “They said I was a minor; but,you know, I’ll soon be of age—I’m seventeen now. I don’t know why boyshave to be boys, anyhow! I don’t see why they can’t be men at once.”

  “I think I know,” Ruth smiled, gazing at him pleasantly.

  “And, I say, I want to tell you one thing about Steve. He isn’t whatpeople take him to be. You know?—Just clever and dashing and wildand reckless. He’s the best and kindest fellow in the world. You askAunt Thomasia and Blair and Aunt Peggy and Uncle Waverley and old Mrs.Turley, and all the poor people about the County. And he’s as brave asJulius Cæsar. I want to tell you that of him, and you know I wouldn’ttell you if ’twa’n’t so.”

  “I know,” said Ruth, looking at him more pleasantly than ever.

  They were at the gate now, and Ruth invited him in; but Rupert said hehad an engagement.

  “There is one thing I want to ask you to do,” said Ruth, ratherdoubtfully.

  “What is it?” he asked, brightening; and then, as she hesitated: “Anything! I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you, Miss Ruth; indeed, Iwill.”

  “No; it is not for me, but for yourself,” said Ruth, who was thinkingof a report that Rupert had been associating lately with some very wildyoung men, and she had it in her mind to ask him not to do so any more.“But, no; I’ll ask you next time I see you, maybe,” she added, after apause.

  “All right; I promise you I’ll do it.”

  He said good-by, and galloped away through the dusk.

  Ruth stood for some time looking after him, and then turned and enteredthe house, and went softly to her room.

  Ruth did not think it necessary to tell her mother or father of theincidents of her ride, except that Rupert had ridden home with her.She shrank instinctively from speaking even to her mother of what hadoccurred on the ride. She felt a certain humiliation in the fact thatDr. Still had ventured to address her. Her only consolation was thatshe knew she had never given him any right to speak so to her. She hadnever gone anywhere with him except from a sense of duty, and had neverbeen anything but coldly polite to him. She was relieved to hear a fewdays later that Dr. Still had left the County, and, rumor said, hadgone to the city to practise his profession. Anyhow, he was gone, andRuth felt much relieved, and buried her uncomfortable secret in her ownbosom.