CHAPTER XXVIII
LOVE, LOVE, LOVE
Even if we hadn't known, we'd have guessed there was something in theair. There was an air of subdued excitement during the rest hour in thespring-house, and a good bit of whispering and laughing, in groups whichwould break up with faces as long as the moral law the moment they sawmy eye on them.
They were planning a mutiny, as you may say, and I guess no sailors on apirate ship were more afraid of the captain's fist than they were of Mr.Pierce's disapproval. He'd been smart enough to see that most of them,having bullied other people all their lives, liked the novelty of beingbullied themselves. And now they were getting a new thrill by having arevolt. They were terribly worked up.
Miss Patty stayed after the others had gone, sitting in front of theempty fireplace in the same chair Mr. Pierce usually took, and keepingher back to me. When I'd finished folding the steamer rugs and puttingthem away, I went around and stood in front of her.
"Your eyes are red," I remarked.
"I've got a cold." She was very haughty.
"Your nose isn't red," I insisted. "And, anyhow, you say you never havea cold."
"I wish you would let me alone, Minnie." She turned her back to me. "Idare say I may have a cold if I wish."
"Do you know what they are saying here?" I demanded. "Do you know thatMiss Cobb has found out in some way or other who Mr. von Inwald is?And that the four o'clock gossip edition says your father has given hisconsent and that you can go and buy a diadem or whatever you are goingto wear, right off?"
"Well," she said, in a choked voice, with her back to me, "what of it?Didn't you and Mr. Pierce both do your best to bring it about?"
"Our what?" I couldn't believe my ears.
"You made father well. He's so p--pleasant he'll do anything exceptleave this awful place!"
"Well, of all the ungrateful people--" I began, and then Mr. Pierce camein. He had a curious way of stopping when he saw her, as if she justtook the wind out of his sails, so to speak, and then of whipping offhis hat, if anything with sails can wear a hat, and going up to herwith his heart in his eyes. He always went straight to her and stoppedsuddenly about two feet away, trying to think of something ordinary tosay. Because the extraordinary thing he wanted to say was always on theend of his tongue.
But this day he didn't light up when he saw her. He went through allthe other motions, but his mouth was set in a straight line, and when hecame close to her and looked down his eyes were hard.
It's been my experience of men that the younger they are the harder theytake things and the more uncompromising they are. It takes a good manyyears and some pretty hard knocks to make people tolerant.
"I was looking for you," he said to her. "The bishop has just told me.There are no obstacles now."
"None," she said, looking up at him with wretchedness in her eyes, if hehad only seen. "I am very happy."
"She was just saying," I said bitterly, "how grateful she was to both ofus."
"I don't understand."
"It is not hard to understand," she said, smiling. I wanted to slap her."Father was unreasonable because he was ill. You have made him well. Ican never thank you enough."
But she rather overdid the joy part of it, and he leaned over and lookedin her face.
"I think I'm stupid," he said. "I know I'm unhappy. But isn't that whatI was to do--to make them well if I could?"
"How could anybody know--" she began angrily, and then stopped. "Youhave done even more," she said sweetly. "You've turned them intocherubims and seraphims. Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. Ugh! HowI hate amiability raised to the NTH power!"
He smiled. I think it was getting through his thick man's skull that shewasn't so happy as she should have been, and he was thrilled through andthrough.
"My amiability must be the reason you dislike me!" he suggested. Theyhad both forgotten me.
"Do I dislike you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "I never reallythought about it, but I'm sure I don't." She didn't look at him, shelooked at me. She knew I knew she lied.
His smile faded.
"Well," he said, "speaking of disliking amiability, you don't hateyourself, I'm sure."
"You are wrong," she retorted, "I loathe myself." And she walked to thewindow. He took a step or two after her.
"Why do it at all?" he asked in a low tone. "You don't love him--youcan't. And if it isn't love--" He remembered me suddenly and stopped.
"Please go on," she said sweetly from the window. "Do not mind Minnie.She is my conscience, anyhow. She is always scolding me; you might bothscold in chorus."
"I wouldn't presume to scold."
"Then give me a little advice and look superior and righteous. I'maccustomed to that also."
"As long as you are in this mood, I can't give you anything but a verygood day," he said angrily, and went toward the door. But when he hadalmost reached it he turned.
"I will say this," he said, "you have known for three days that Mr.Thoburn was going to have a supper to-night, and you didn't let us know.You must have known his purpose."
I guess I was as surprised as she was. I'd never suspected she knew.
She looked at him over her shoulder.
"Why shouldn't he have a supper?" she demanded angrily. "I'mstarving--we're all starving for decent food. I'm kept here against mywill. Why shouldn't I have one respectable meal? You with your wretchedstewed fruits and whole-wheat breads! Ugh!"
"I'm sorry. Thoburn's idea, of course, is to make the guestsdiscontented, so they will leave."
"Oh!" she said. She hadn't thought of that, and she flushed. "At least,"she said, "you must give me credit for not trying to spoil Dick andDolly's chance here."
"We are going to allow the party to go on," he said, still stiff anduncompromising. It would have been better if he'd accepted her bit ofapology.
"How kind of you! I dare say he would have it, anyhow." She wassarcastic again.
"Probably. And you--will go?"
"Certainly."
"Even when the result--"
"Oh, don't preach!" she said, putting her hands to her ears. "If you andMinnie want to preach, why don't you preach at each other? Minnie talks'love, love, love.' And you preach health and morality. You drive mecrazy between you."
"Suppose," he said with a gleam in his eyes, "suppose I preach 'love,love, love!'"
She put her fingers in her ears again. "Say it to Minnie," she cried,and turned her back to him.
"Very well," he said. "Minnie, Miss Jennings refuses to listen, andthere are some things I must say. Once again I am going to register aprotest against her throwing herself away in a loveless marriage. I--Ifeel strongly on the subject, Minnie."
She half turned, as if to interrupt. Then she thought better of it andkept her fingers in her ears, her face flushed. But he had learned whathe hoped--that she could hear him.
"You ask me why I feel so strongly, Minnie, and you are right to ask.Under ordinary circumstances, Minnie, any remark of mine on the subjectwould be ridiculous impertinence."
He stopped and eyed her back, but she did not move.
"It is impertinence under any circumstances, but consider theprovocation. I see a young, beautiful and sensitive girl, marrying,frankly without love, a man whom I know to be unworthy, and you ask meto stand aside and allow it to happen!"
"Are you still preaching?" she asked coldly over her shoulder. "It mustbe a long sermon."
And then, knowing he had only a moment more, his voice changed andbecame deep and earnest. His hands, that were clutching a chair-back,took a stronger hold, so that the ends of the nails were white.
"You see, Minnie," he said, turning a little pale, "I--I love MissJennings myself. You have known it a long time, for you love her, too.It has come to the point that I measure the day by the hours when I cansee her. She doesn't care for me; sometimes I think she hates me." Hepaused here, but Miss Patty didn't move. "I haven't anything to offera woman except a clean life and the kind of love tha
t a woman could beproud of. I have no title--"
Miss Patty suddenly took her fingers out of her ears and turned around.She was flushed and shaken, but she looked past him without blinking aneyelash to me.
"Dear me," she said, "the sermon must have been exciting, Minnie! Youare quite trembly!"
And with that she picked up her muff and went out, with not a glance athim.
He looked at me.
"Well," he said, "THAT'S over. She's angry, Minnie, and she'll neverforgive me."
"Stuff!" I snapped, "I notice she waited to hear it all, and no realwoman ever hated a man for saying he loved her."
Where There's a Will Page 28