Round Anvil Rock: A Romance

by Nancy Huston Banks

  XXIII

  LOVE CLAIMS HIS OWN

  The tears had been heavy on Ruth's dark lashes when she had fallenasleep, but she awoke with a smile, radiant and expectant. She could notremember at first what made her so happy, and a pang touched her heartat the sudden recollection of the night's sadness. And then suddenly shebegan to glow again at the thought of her lover's coming. The week ofhis exile was ended on that day, and he would come. She knew just how hewould look when he came with his head held high, and his clear eyes, sokind, and yet so fearless, looking straight in every face. She couldtell the very moment when he would come, for she had thehappiness--which every woman prizes and few ever know--of loving a manwho kept his word in the letter as well as the spirit. If men could butknow the difference there is to a woman! But they hardly ever do know,because this is a little thing, and they can never understand that it isthe little things and not the large ones that make the happiness or thewretchedness of most women.

  She exulted in the thought that he would come at the very instant he hadnamed, no sooner and no later, and this would be precisely at fouro'clock. She looked round with a smile, trying to tell by the mark onthe window-sill what the time was then. But the day was gloomy, andthere was no sunlight to mark the hour. Solitary snowflakes weredrifting irresolutely across the window, as if uncertain whether to goon earthward or return whence they came. The birds sat on the barebranches near the window waiting for their breakfast in ruffledimpatience, the blue jay having done his best to call her to the windowearlier. And he said so, in his own way, as she scattered the crumbswith a cheery good morning.

  When she went down to breakfast, the family received her much as thebirds had done. Her coming cheered them also, as if a sunbeam hadentered the dark room. Miss Penelope left off what she was saying aboutthe calamities that must be expected in consequence of the comet's tailcoming loose from its head. The widow Broadnax relaxed her watch for amoment, as the fair young figure came toward the hearth and stood by herchair, resting a hand on her shoulder. The judge brightened, withoutknowing what it was that suddenly heartened him, and David came out ofhis corner under the stairs, as he never did, unless she was in theroom. Only William held aloof after a formal bow. At the sight of her,smiling and radiant, the sullen anger within him glowed like a coveredfire under a sudden breeze. She had not been punished enough; her facewas far too bright, her manner far too frank. When she approached himand tried to speak to him in a tone that no one else could hear, hearose, and murmuring a stiff apology moved away, just as he had doneevery time she had made the attempt. She flushed and lifted her head,for there was no lack of pride or spirit in her softness. Yet by and byshe could not help looking at him across the table with another softappeal in her sweet eyes which plead dumbly for old times' sake. Andafter breakfast was over she tried again, knowing that this would be thelast opportunity, and yearning with all her loving heart to win backsome of the old friendliness that she still prized as a precious thing,which she could not give up for a mere touch of pride. Such softpersistence is even harder to evade than to resist, and she followedWilliam to the door as he was going away later in the day, and wasbravely gathering courage while he looked at her in implacable coldness.

  He was not softened by the fact that his hopes were high that morningover what appeared to be the certainty of his receiving the appointment.There was, he thought, not the slightest doubt if he could manage tosecure the influence of one or two other leading citizens. As it was,there seemed to be little danger of failure, and when he now saw PhilipAlston coming, he paused and waited for him to come up, so that hemight tell him what he had been doing. He did not know that he wasmerely telling Philip Alston how his own orders had been carried out,and there was nothing in that gentleman's manner to remind him.

  William Pressley, accordingly, went on talking with the modestconsciousness of having done all that was possible for any man to do,and he said, as they were entering the great room, that he consideredhis success a mere question of time.

  "A mere question of time, and a very short time, too," repeated PhilipAlston, heartily. "I congratulate you. I am proud of you. We are allproud of him--hey, judge?"

  "I hope he knows what he is trying to undertake," the judge saidabruptly, turning a glum look on his nephew. "I trust, William, that youare realizing the responsibility of this office. Most men would hesitateto assume it. I should tremble at the thought."

  "I think, sir, that I shall be able to do my duty." William Pressleyspoke stiffly, with a touch of condescension and a shade of resentment,such as he always evinced at any sign that the censer might cease toswing.

  "It isn't a simple matter of duty. It's a much more complicated matterof ability," the judge said sternly.

  "Pardon me, sir, but it really does not seem to me such a difficultplace to fill," said William, loftily. "In this, as in any otherposition of life, the man who is influenced solely by the profoundestand most conscientious conviction, and who is firm in following hisconvictions, can hardly go far astray."

  The judge looked at him over his big spectacles in perplexed, troubledsilence for a moment. So gazing, he gave the old impatient toss of histousled head, and the old quizzical look came under his suddenlyuplifted eyebrow.

  "All _right_, William!" he said at last, almost immediately lapsing intosilence, and presently beginning to nod.

  Philip Alston scarcely glanced at the judge and his nephew. He waslooking at Ruth, and noting with adoring eyes that her beauty hadblossomed like some rare flower of late. It seemed to him that the roseson her fair cheeks were of a more exquisite, yet brighter tint, that hereyes were bluer and brighter and softer than ever. There also appearedto be a new maturity in the delicate curves of her graceful figure. Butthere was no change in the childlike affection of her bearing towardhim. She clung round him just as she had always done, and when sheturned to leave his side to take a chair, he called her back,unconsciously falling into the tone of fond playfulness that he had usedin her childhood.

  "If a little girl about your size were to come and look in her uncle'spockets, she might find something that she would like--"

  Ruth did not wait for him to finish what he was saying, but ran to himas if she had been the little toddler of other days, needing only thesight of his dear face, or the sound of his kind voice, to fly into hisoutstretched arms. In a moment more her eager hands were swiftlysearching his pockets, and making believe to have great difficulty infinding the hidden treasure. She knew all the while where it was, butshe also knew that he liked her to be a long time in getting it out. Hisworshipping eyes looked down on her hands fluttering like white dovesabout his heart,--for it was hard to keep away from that inner breastpocket--and at last, when she could not wait any longer, she went deepdown in it, and drew out a flat packet. This looked as if it hadtravelled a long distance. There were many wrappings around it, and manyseals and foreign marks were stamped upon it. She laid it on his knee,and pretended to shake him, when he made out that he meant to take timeto untie the cords which bound the wrappings, instead of cutting them.And when he had cut the cords with his pen-knife, the wrappings felloff, disclosing a jewel case of white satin richly wrought in gold. Atthe quick touch of her fingers the lid of the case flew up, revealing along string of large pearls,--great frozen drops of the rainbow, wrappedin silvery white mist,--treasures that a queen might have coveted.

  The girl did not know how wonderful the pearls were and had not thefaintest conception of their value. But she saw their beauty and felttheir charm, for a beautiful woman loves and longs for the jewels thatbelong to her beauty, as naturally as the rose loves and longs to gatherand keep the dewdrops in its heart.

  "Oh! Oh!" was all that she could say, and she could think of nothing todo, except stand on tiptoe and touch Philip Alston's cheek with abutterfly kiss. And then when he had put the string of pearls around herneck, so that it swung far down over her rounded young bosom, she dancedacross the room to the largest mirror. But the corner in which it hungwa
s always full of shadows and so dark on this gloomy day that she couldnot see, and with pretty imperiousness she called for candles to belighted and brought to her. William Pressley mechanically got up toobey, but Philip Alston moved more quickly. Going to the hearth he tooktwo candles from the mantelpiece, lit them at the fire, and carried themto her. He expected to have the pleasure of holding them so that shemight see the lovely vision, which he was already looking upon. But shetook them from his hands and raising them high above her head, dancedback to the mirror, and stood gazing at her own image, as artlessly as alily bends over its shadow in a crystal pool. And as she thus gazed inthe mirror, it suddenly reflected something which moved her more thanher own likeness. It showed her the opening of the front door, and gaveher a glimpse of her lover standing in the room. She whirled round,blushing, and with her eyes shining like stars, and cried out:--"See,Paul! See--was there ever anything so lovely?"

  She went swiftly toward him, holding the candles still higher, so thatthe pearls caught a rosy lustre from the light that fell on her radiantface. She was laughing with pure delight at the sight of him, forgettingthe pearls. She did not know that she had called him by his Christianname but she would have called him so, had she taken time to think. Shehad called him so ever since they had known that they loved each other,and she did not stop to realize that this was the first time they hadmet in the presence of others since becoming plighted lovers. Sherealized nothing except his presence--that alone filled her whole worldwith joy and content. He came straight to meet her, holding out hishands; but before he could cross the great room, or even had time tospeak, Philip Alston stepped forward and spoke suddenly in cleartones:--

  "Yes, see the wedding gift! The bridal pearls are here at last; allready for Christmas Eve."

  Paul Colbert paused. He was an ardent and bold lover, but the words werelike a breath of frost on love's flowering. No ardor, no confidence, cankeep a sensitive man from feeling a chill when he sees the woman heloves decked in the beautiful things which are beauty's birthright, andrealizes for the first time that he cannot give them to her. With thepainful shock which this feeling brought to the young doctor there was agreater shock in the sudden thought of the possible source of the richeswhich the pearls represented. A feeling of horror rushed over him, as ifhe had seen that soft, white throat encircled by a serpent, and hesprang forward to tear it off.

  Ruth had turned her head to look at Philip Alston, with a start ofsurprise and a little disquietude, but without fear or distrust. Shecould not believe that he would wish her to marry William after he knewthat she loved Paul; such a thought never crossed her mind. Yet, as shelooked, a strange feeling of alarm which she did not comprehend sweptover her, filling her with formless terror. Some instinct made hershrink, as if this wonderful string of pearls, which she had thought sobeautiful a moment before, had turned into a cruel chain and was bindingher fast. She did not know that many a weaker man has thus bound many astronger woman with chains of gold and ropes of pearls. But she felt it,and her instinct was quicker than her lover's thought. Had her handsbeen free she would have thrown the fetters from her, and findingherself helpless, she turned to Paul Colbert for help.

  "Take them off! Quick--quick! They are too heavy," she gasped.

  It was Philip Alston who reached her first, and took the pearls fromher neck and the candles from her hands; but she did not look at him,and went to her lover as if he had called her. Paul's arm going out tomeet her drew her to his side, and then, as the young couple thus stoodclose together, the truth was plain enough to every one whose eyesrested upon them. Philip Alston's face turned very white, and he made amovement as if he would spring between them and part them by force. Buthe checked the impulse, after that uncontrollable start, and stoodstill, bearing in enforced silence, and as best he could, as hard atrial as love ever put before pride. William Pressley also stood stilland silent, suffering bitterer pangs through his wounded self-love thanlove itself ever could have inflicted upon him. Judge Knox straightenedup from his doze in bewildered astonishment, and made a displeasedexclamation, but it passed unheard. The old ladies by the hearth weredumb with amazement. The boy stood unnoticed in his dark corner underthe stairs.

  The young doctor now began to speak deliberately, calmly, and clearly,being fully prepared with every word that he wished to utter. He toldthe whole story with the simple directness that was natural to him. Heexplained why he had not spoken sooner, and dwelt upon Ruth's scruplesbecause he wished her position to be fully understood, not because hefelt it necessary to excuse anything upon his own account. When he hadsaid everything that he thought should be said, and when he had spokenmodestly and proudly of their love for each other, he went on to makefrank mention of his affairs, his family, and his place in life. Andthen he turned to the judge:--

  "There is, as you see, sir, no reason why I should not ask you to giveher to me," he said with a boyish blush dyeing his handsome young face,"since I have been so honored, so happy, and so fortunate as to win herconsent. I am ready and eager to tell you anything else that you maywish to know, sir."

  The judge lurched heavily out of his chair and rose unsteadily to hisfeet in the sudden, angry excitement that flames out of drink.

  "By--! 'Pon my soul, young sir, you are taking a high hand in my house.Keep your place, sir, keep your place! Who are you that come hereputting your hand on my niece, and ordering the family about? Come tome, Ruth! Come to me instantly!"

  Philip Alston laid a restraining hand on his arm, and even WilliamPressley uttered a warning word. In the presence of the girl there mustnot be a violent word, much less a violent deed, no matter what thefeelings of the men might be, and no matter what might come after. Thatwas the first article in the code of chivalry toward women which ruledthese first Kentuckians, as it rules most brave, strong men livingsimple, strenuous lives in the open. It ruled the judge also, as soonas he had time to think, and controlled him through all the fog thatclouded his faculties.

  "My dear," he appealed humbly, piteously, bending his rough gray headbefore the girl, "I beg your pardon."

  She flew to him and ran her arm through his, thus ranging herself on hisside with a fiery air of loyalty, and she turned on her lover with hersoft eyes flashing:--

  "How can you, Paul! I am surprised. I wouldn't have believed it of you.What do you mean by speaking so to my uncle Robert? Don't you see heisn't well? You must know that when he is well everybody respects andlooks up to him--that the whole county depends on him," she said.

  The old judge and the young doctor looked at each other over her head asmen look at one another when women do things as true to their nature asthis was to hers. And then, in spite of themselves, the judge's lefteyebrow went up very high, and a sunny smile brightened the doctor'sgrave face. Even Philip Alston smiled and felt a sudden relief. Withsuch a child as Ruth had just shown herself to be, there must be somehope of leading her by gentleness and persuasion. There was, at least, achance to gain time, and he moved eagerly to seize it. He looked atWilliam Pressley with an expression of undisguised contempt, seeing himstand utterly unmoved. He could not help giving a glance of scorn, whichmeasured him against Paul Colbert. Who could blame the girl?Nevertheless Philip Alston went to her and took her hand from thejudge's arm, and placed it within his own. Holding it fast against hisside, he turned to the doctor.

  "It might be best for all concerned if you would allow us to talk thismatter over quietly among ourselves. We hardly know what to say, havingit sprung in this totally unexpected way. If you would be so kind as toleave us for the present--"

  The doctor had drawn himself up to his full height. He was about to saythat he recognized no right on the part of Philip Alston to interfere,and to declare that he held himself accountable to no one but the judge.Yet as this purpose formed, his gaze instinctively sought Ruth's, and hesaw that she was looking up at Philip Alston with love--unmistakablelove--in her face. The sight brought back all the helplessness that healways felt when forced to realize her
fondness for the man. He felt ashe might have done had he seen some deadly thing coiled about her soclosely that he could not strike it without wounding her tender breast.The trouble had been like that from the first and it was like thatnow--perhaps it always would be. He did not know what to do or say, withher blue eyes appealing from him to Philip Alston. He was glad whenWilliam Pressley broke the silence. The young lawyer had been thinkinghard; he never did anything on mere impulse. He always stopped toconsider how a thing would look, no matter how angry he might be. Hisvanity had been slowly swallowing a bitter morsel, and it was now quiteclear to him that he must act promptly in order to escape a stillbitterer humiliation. Moreover, the chief consideration which had kepthim from allowing Ruth to break the engagement sooner, was now removed.Philip Alston could hardly blame him in view of what had happened; noone could think ill of him now.

  "Just a moment, if you please," he said coldly and bitterly, addressingall who were present. "There is no cause for delay or hesitation so faras I can see--certainly there need be none on my account. The engagementbetween Ruth and myself was tacitly broken some weeks ago. She has beenover-scrupulous in thinking that anything was due me. She was quite freefrom any promise to me. You owe me nothing," turning to her with a bow."You have my best wishes."

  She went to him, holding out her hand. "William, it hurts me to hear youspeak like that. I did my best to tell you--alone--and earlier. We wereboth mistaken--neither was to blame. There surely is no reason for hardfeeling. My affection for you is just the same. William, dear--just forold time's sake."

  He took her hand, not because her loving gentleness won his forgiveness,but because he thought that no gentleman could refuse a lady's hand. Andwhen she turned away with a long sigh and quivering lips, he stood firmand invincible, supported by the conviction that he alone of all thosepresent had been right in everything. And such a conviction of one's owninfallibility must be a very great support under life's trials anddisappointments. There can hardly be any other armor so nearlyimpenetrable to all those barbed doubts and fears which perpetuallyassail and wound the unarmored. Think of what it must mean!--never tofeel that you might have been kinder or more just, or more generous ormore merciful than you were; never to have doubts and fears comeknocking, knocking, knocking at your heart till you are compelled to seeyour mistakes when it is too late to do what was left undone,and--saddest and bitterest of all--too late to undo what was done.

  But no one except Ruth looked at William Pressley or thought of him.Philip Alston calmly and courteously repeated his request, and withRuth's gaze urging it, Paul Colbert could not refuse to grant it. Hetook up his hat and went toward the door with Ruth walking by his side.And then, with his hand on the latch, he paused and turned, and lookingover her head, gazed steadily and meaningly into the eyes of the threemen. He looked first and longest at Philip Alston; then at WilliamPressley, and finally at the judge, with a slight change of expression.To each one of the three men his look said as plainly as if it had beenput into words, that he held himself ready for anything and everythingthat any or all of them might have to say to him--out of her sight andhearing and knowledge. And they, in turn, understood, for that was theway of their country, of their time, and their kind; and having donethis he went quietly away.