Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth

by Anna Katharine Green

  IX

  A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

  When my mind is set free from doubt and fully settled upon any course, Iam capable of much good nature and seeming simplicity. I was thereforeable to maintain my own at the breakfast-table with some success, sothat the meal passed off without any of the disagreeable experiences ofthe night before. Perhaps the fact that Loreen presided at thecoffee-urn instead of Lucetta had something to do with this. Her calm,even looks seemed to put some restraint upon the boisterous outbursts towhich William was only too liable, while her less excitable naturesuffered less if by any chance he did break out and startle the decoroussilence by one of his rude guffaws.

  I am a slow eater, but I felt forced to hurry through the meal or beleft eating alone at the end. This did not put me in the best of humor,for I hated to risk an indigestion just when my faculties needed to beunusually alert. I compromised by leaving the board hungry, but I did itwith such a smile that I do not think Miss Knollys knew I had not risenfrom any table so ill satisfied in years.

  "I will leave you to my brother for a few minutes," said she, hastilytripping from the room. "I pray that you will not think of going to yourroom till we have had an opportunity of arranging it."

  I instantly made up my mind to disobey this injunction. But first, itwas necessary to see what I could make of William.

  He was not a very promising subject as he turned and led the way towardthe front of the house.

  "I thought you might like to see the grounds," he growled, evidently notenjoying the role assigned him. "They are so attractive," he sneered."Children hereabout call them the jungle."

  "Who's to blame for that?" I asked, with only a partial humoring of hisill nature. "You have a sturdy pair of arms of your own, and a littletrimming here and a little trimming there would have given quite adifferent appearance to this undergrowth. A gentleman usually takespride in his place."

  "Yes, when it's all his. This belongs to my sisters as much as to me.What's the use of my bothering myself about it?"

  The man was so selfish he did not realize the extent of the exhibitionhe made of it. Indeed he seemed to take pride in what he probably calledhis independence. I began to feel the most intense aversion for him, andonly with the greatest difficulty could prolong this conversationunmoved.

  "I should think it would be a pleasure to give that much assistance toyour sisters. They do not seem to be sparing in their attempts to pleaseyou."

  He snapped his fingers, and I was afraid a dog or two would come leapingaround the corner of the house. But it was only his way of expressingdisdain.

  "Oh, the girls are well enough," he grumbled; "but they will stick tothe place. Lucetta might have married a half-dozen times, and once Ithought she was going to, but suddenly she turned straight about andsent her lover packing, and that made me mad beyond everything. Whyshould she hang on to me like a burr when there are other folks willingto take on the burden?"

  It was the most palpable display of egotism I had ever seen and one ofthe most revolting. I was so disgusted by it that I spoke up without anytoo much caution.

  "Perhaps she thinks she can be useful to you," I said. "I have knownsisters give up their own happiness on no better grounds."

  "Useful?" he sneered. "It's a usefulness a man like me can dispensewith. Do you know what I would like?"

  We were standing in one of the tangled pathways, with our faces turnedtoward the house. As he spoke, he looked up and made a rude sort ofgesture toward the blank expanse of empty and curtainless windows.

  "I would like that great house all to myself, to make into one huge,bachelor's hall. I should like to feel that I could tramp from one endof it to the other without awakening an echo I did not choose to hearthere. I should not find it too big. I should not find it too lonesome.I and my dogs would know how to fill it, wouldn't we, Saracen? Oh, Iforgot, Saracen is locked up."

  The way he mumbled the last sentence showed displeasure, but I gavelittle heed to that. The gloating way in which he said he and his dogswould fill it had given me a sort of turn. I began to have more than anaversion for the man. He inspired me with something like terror.

  "Your wishes," said I, with as little expression as possible, "seem toleave your sisters entirely out of your calculations. How would yourmother regard that if she could see you from the place where she isgone?"

  He turned upon me with a look of anger that made his features positivelyugly.

  "What do you mean by speaking to me of my mother? Have I spoken of herto you? Is there any reason why you should lug my mother into thisconversation? If so, say so, and be----"

  He did not swear at me; he did not dare to, but he came precious near toit, and that was enough to make me recoil.

  "She was my friend," said I. "I knew and loved her before you were born.That was why I spoke of her, and I think it very natural myself."

  He seemed to feel ashamed. He grumbled out some sort of apology andlooked about quite helplessly, possibly for the dog he manifestly was inthe habit of seeing forever at his heels. I took advantage of thismomentary abstraction on his part to smooth my own disturbed features.

  "She was a beautiful girl," I remarked, on the principle that, the iceonce broken, one should not hesitate about jumping in. "Was your fatherequally handsome for a man?"

  "My father--yes, let's talk of father. He was a judge of horses, he was.When he died, there were three mares in the stable not to be beat thisside of Albany, but those devils of executors sold them, and I--well,you had a chance to test the speed of old Bess yesterday. You weren'tafraid of being thrown out, I take it. Great Scott, to think of a man ofmy tastes owning no other horse than that!"

  "You have not answered my question," I suggested, turning him about andmoving toward the gate.

  "Oh, about the way my father looked! What does that matter? He washandsome, though. Folks say that I get whatever good looks I have fromhim. He was big--bigger than I am, and while he lived--What did you makea fellow talk for?"

  I don't know why I did, but I was certainly astonished at the result.This great, huge lump of selfish clay had actually shown feeling and wasashamed of it, like the lout he was.

  "Yesterday," said I, anxious to change the subject, "I had difficulty ingetting in through that gate we are pointing for. Couldn't you set itstraight, with just a little effort?"

  He paused, looked at me to see if I were in earnest, then took a doggedstep toward the gate I was still indicating with my resolute right hand,but before he could touch it he perceived something on that deserted andominous highway which made him start in sudden surprise.

  "Why, Trohm," he cried, "is that you? Well, it's an age since I haveseen you turn that corner on a visit to us."

  "Sometime, certainly," answered a hearty and pleasant voice, and beforeI could quite drop the look of severity with which I was endeavoring toshame this young man into some decent show of interest in this place,and assume the more becoming aspect of a lady caught unawares at anearly morning hour plucking flowers from a stunted syringa, a gentlemanstepped into sight on the other side of the fence with a look and a bowso genial and devoid of mystery that I experienced for the first timesince entering the gloomy precincts of this town a decided sensation ofpleasure.

  "Miss Butterworth," explained Mr. Knollys with a somewhat forced gesturein my direction. "A guest of my sisters," he went on, and looked as ifhe hoped I would retire, though he made no motion to welcome Mr. Trohmin, but rather leaned a little conspicuously on the gate as if anxiousto show that he had no idea that the other's intention went any furtherthan the passing of a few neighborly comments at the gate.

  I like to please the young even when they are no more agreeable than mysurly host, and if the gentleman who had just shown himself had beenequally immature, I would certainly have left them to have their talkout undisturbed. But he was not. He was older; he was even of sufficientyears for his judgment to have become thoroughly matured and his everyfaculty developed. I therefore could not see why my soci
ety should beconsidered an intrusion by him, so I waited. His next sentence wasaddressed to me.

  "I am happy," said he, "to have the pleasure of a personal introductionto Miss Butterworth. I did not expect it. The surprise is all the moreagreeable. I only anticipated being allowed to leave this package andletter with the maid. They are addressed to you, madam, and were left atmy house by mistake."

  I could not hide my astonishment.

  "I live in the next house below," said he. "The boy who brought thesefrom the post office was a stupid lad, and I could not induce him tocome any farther up the road. I hope you will excuse the presentmessenger and believe there has been no delay."

  I bowed with what must have seemed an abstracted politeness. The letterwas from New York, and, as I strongly suspected, from Mr. Gryce. Somehowthis fact created in me an unmistakable embarrassment. I put both letterand package into my pocket and endeavored to meet the gentleman's eyewith my accustomed ease in the presence of strangers. But, strange tosay, I had no sooner done so than I saw that he was no more at his easethan myself. He smiled, glanced at William, made an offhand remark or soabout the weather, but he could not deceive eyes sharpened by suchexperience as mine. Something disturbed him, something connected withme. It made my cheek a little hot to acknowledge this even to myself,but it was so very evident that I began to cast about for the means ofridding ourselves of William when that blundering youth suddenly spoke:

  "I suppose he was afraid to come up the lane. Do you know, I thinkyou're brave to attempt it, Trohm. We haven't a very good name here."And with a sudden, perfectly unnatural burst, he broke out into one ofhis huge guffaws that so shook the old gate on which he was leaning thatI thought it would tumble down with him before our eyes.

  I saw Mr. Trohm start and cast him a look in which I seemed to detectboth surprise and horror, before he turned to me and with an air ofpolite deprecation anxiously said:

  "I am afraid Miss Butterworth will not understand your allusions, Mr.Knollys. I hear this is her first visit in town."

  As his manner showed even more feeling than the occasion seemed towarrant, I made haste to answer that I was well acquainted with thetradition of the lane; that its name alone showed what had happenedhere.

  His bearing betrayed an instant relief.

  "I am glad to find you so well informed," said he. "I was afraid"--herehe cast another very strange glance at William--"that your young friendsmight have shrunk, from some sense of delicacy, from telling you whatmight frighten most guests from a lonely road like this. I complimentyou upon their thoughtfulness."

  William bowed as if the words of the other contained no other suggestionthan that which was openly apparent. Was he so dull, or was he--I hadnot time to finish my conjectures even in my own mind, for at thismoment a quick cry rose behind us, and Lucetta's light figure appearedrunning toward us with every indication of excitement.

  "Ah," murmured Mr. Trohm, with an appearance of great respect, "yoursister, Mr. Knollys. I had better be moving on. Good-morning, MissButterworth. I am sorry that circumstances make it impossible for me tooffer you those civilities which you might reasonably expect from sonear a neighbor. Miss Lucetta and I are at swords' points over a matterupon which I still insist she is to blame. See how shocked she is to seeme even standing at her gate."

  Shocked! I would have said terrified. Nothing but fear--her old fearaggravated to a point that made all attempt at concealmentimpossible--could account for her white, drawn features and tremblingform. She looked as if her whole thought was, "Have I come in time?"

  "What--what has procured us the honor of this visit?" she asked, movingup beside William as if she would add her slight frame to his bulky oneto keep this intruder out.

  "Nothing that need alarm you," said the other with a suggestive note inhis kind and mellow voice. "I was rather unexpectedly intrusted thismorning with a letter for your agreeable guest here, and I have merelycome to deliver it."

  Her look of astonishment passing from him to me, I thrust my hand intomy pocket and drew out the letter which I had just received.

  "From home," said I, without properly considering that this was in somemeasure an untruth.

  "Oh!" she murmured as if but half convinced. "William could have gonefor it," she added, still eying Mr. Trohm with a pitiful anxiety.

  "I was only too happy," said the other, with a low and reassuring bow.Then, as if he saw that her distress would only be relieved by hisdeparture, he raised his hat and stepped back into the open highway. "Iwill not intrude again, Miss Knollys," were his parting words. "If youwant anything of Obadiah Trohm, you know where to find him. His doorswill always be open to you."

  Lucetta, with a start, laid her hand on her brother's arm as if torestrain the words she saw slowly laboring to his lips, and leaningbreathlessly forward, watched the fine figure of this perfect countrygentleman till it had withdrawn quite out of sight. Then she turned, andwith a quick abandonment of all self-control, cried out with a pitifulgesture toward her brother, "I thought all was over; I feared he meantto come into the house," and fell stark and seemingly lifeless at ourfeet.