XIV
I FORGET MY AGE, OR, RATHER, REMEMBER IT
Mr. Trohm did not disappoint my expectations. In another moment Iperceived him standing in the open doorway with the most genial smile onhis lips.
"Miss Butterworth," said he, "I feel too honored. If you will deign toaccept a seat in my buggy, I shall only be too happy to drive you home."
I have always liked the manners of country gentlemen. There is just atouch of formality in their bearing which has been quite eliminated fromthat of their city brothers. I therefore became gracious at once andaccepted the seat he offered me without any hesitation.
The heads that showed themselves at the neighboring windows warned us tohasten on our route. Mr. Trohm, with a snap of his whip, touched up hishorse, and we rode in dignified calm away from the hotel steps into thewide village street known as the main road. The fact that Mr. Gryce hadtold me that this was the one man I could trust, joined to my ownexcellent knowledge of human nature and the persons in whom explicitconfidence can be put, made the moment one of great satisfaction to me.I was about to make my appearance at the Knollys mansion two hoursbefore I was expected, and thus outwit Lucetta by means of the one manwhose assistance I could conscientiously accept.
We were not slow in beginning conversation. The fine air, the prosperouscondition of the town offered themes upon which we found it quite easyto dilate, and so naturally and easily did our acquaintanceship progressthat we had turned the corner into Lost Man's Lane before I quiterealized it. The entrance from the village offered a sharp contrast tothe one I had already traversed. There it was but a narrow openingbetween sombre and unduly crowding trees. Here it was the gradualmelting of a village street into a narrow and less frequented road,which only after passing Deacon Spear's house assumed that aspect ofwildness which a quarter of a mile farther on deepened into somethingpositively sombre and repellent.
I speak of Deacon Spear because he was sitting on his front doorstepwhen we rode by. As he was a resident in the lane, I did not fail totake notice of him, though guardedly and with such restraint as aknowledge of his widowed condition rendered both wise and proper.
He was not an agreeable-looking person, at least to me. His hair wassleek, his beard well cared for, his whole person in good if notprosperous condition, but he had the self-satisfied expression I detest,and looked after us with an aspect of surprise I chose to consider atrifle impertinent. Perhaps he envied Mr. Trohm. If so, he may have hadgood reason for it--it is not for me to judge.
Up to now I had seen only a few scrub bushes at the side of the road,with here and there a solitary poplar to enliven the dead level oneither side of us; but after we had ridden by the fence which sets theboundary to the good deacon's land, I noticed such a change in theappearance of the lane that I could not but exclaim over the natural aswell as cultivated beauties which every passing moment was bringingbefore me.
Mr. Trohm could not conceal his pleasure.
"These are my lands," said he. "I have bestowed unremitting attentionupon them for years. It is my hobby, madam. There is not a tree you seethat has not received my careful attention. Yonder orchard was set outby me, and the fruit it yields--Madam, I hope you will remain longenough with us to taste a certain rare and luscious peach that I broughtfrom France a few years ago. It gives promise of reaching its fullperfection this year, and I shall be gratified indeed if you can give ityour approval."
This was politeness indeed, especially as I knew what value men like himset upon each individual fruit they watch ripen under their care.Testifying my appreciation of his kindness, I endeavored to introduceanother and less harmless and perhaps less personally interesting topicof conversation. The chimneys of his house were beginning to show overthe trees, and I had heard nothing from this man on the subject whichshould have been the most interesting of all to me at this moment. Andhe was the only person in town I was at liberty to really confide in,and possibly the only man in town who could give me a reliable statementof the reasons why the family I was visiting was regarded in a doubtfullight not only by the credulous villagers, but by the New York police. Ibegan by an allusion to the phantom coach.
"I hear," said I, "that this lane has other claims to attention beyondthose afforded by the mysteries connected with it. I hear that it has attimes a ghostly visitant in the shape of a spectral horse and carriage."
"Yes," he replied, with a seeming understanding that was veryflattering; "do not spare the lane one of its honors. It has its nightlyhorror as well as its daily fear. I wish the one were as unreal as theother."
"You act as if both were unreal to you," said I. "The contrast betweenyour appearance and that of some other members of the lane is quitemarked."
"You refer"--he seemed to hate to speak--"to the Misses Knollys, Ipresume."
I endeavored to treat the subject lightly.
"To your young enemy, Lucetta," I smilingly replied.
He had been looking at me in a perfectly modest and respectful manner,but he dropped his eyes at this and busied himself abstractedly, and yetI thought with some intention, in removing a fly from the horse's flankwith the tip of his whip.
"I will not acknowledge her as an enemy," he quietly returned instrictly modulated tones. "I like the girl too well."
The fly had been by this time dislodged, but he did not look up.
"And William?" I suggested. "What do you think of William?"
Slowly he straightened himself. Slowly he dropped the whip back into itssocket. I thought he was going to answer, when suddenly his wholeattitude changed and he turned upon me a beaming face full of nothingbut pleasure.
"The road takes a turn here. In another moment you will see my house."And even while he spoke it burst upon us, and I instantly forgot that Ihad just ventured on a somewhat hazardous question.
It was such a pretty place, and it was so beautifully and exquisitelykept. There was a charm about its rose-encircled porch that is only tobe found in very old places that have been appreciatively cared for. Ahigh fence painted white inclosed a lawn like velvet, and the houseitself, shining with a fresh coat of yellow paint, bore signs of comfortin its white-curtained windows not usually to be found in the solitarydwelling of a bachelor. I found my eyes roving over each detail withdelight, and almost blushed, or, rather, had I been twenty years youngermight have been thought to blush, as I met his eyes and saw how much mypleasure gratified him.
"You must excuse me if I express too much admiration for what I seebefore me," I said, with what I have every reason to believe was ahighly successful effort to hide my confusion. "I have always had agreat leaning towards well-ordered walks and trimly kept flower-beds--aleaning, alas! which I have found myself unable to gratify."
"Do not apologize," he hastened to say. "You but redouble my ownpleasure in thus honoring my poor efforts with your regard. I havespared no pains, madam, I have spared no pains to render this placebeautiful, and most of what you see, I am proud to say, has beenaccomplished by my own hands."
"Indeed!" I cried in some surprise, letting my eye rest withsatisfaction on the top of a long well-sweep that was one of thepicturesque features of the place.
"It may have been folly," he remarked, with a gloating sweep of his eyeover the velvet lawn and flowering shrubs--a peculiar look that seemedto express something more than the mere delight of possession, "but Iseemed to begrudge any hired assistance in the tending of plants everyone of which seems to me like a personal friend."
"I understand," was my somewhat un-Butterworthian reply. I really didnot quite know myself. "What a contrast to the dismal grounds at theother end of the lane!"
This was more in my usual vein. He seemed to feel the difference, forhis expression changed at my remark.
"Oh, that den!" he exclaimed, bitterly; then, seeing me look a littleshocked, he added, with an admirable return to his old manner, "I callany place a den where flowers do not grow." And jumping from the buggy,he gathered an exquisite bunch of heliotrope, which he pressed up
on me."I love sunshine, beds of roses, fountains, and a sweep of lawn likethis we see before us. But do not let me bore you. You have probablylingered long enough at the old bachelor's place and now would like todrive on. I will be with you in a moment. Doubtful as it is whether Ishall soon again be so fortunate as to be able to offer you anyhospitality, I would like to bring you a glass of wine--or, for I seeyour eyes roaming longingly toward my old-fashioned well, would you likea draft of water fresh from the bucket?"
I assured him I did not drink wine, at which I thought his eyesbrightened, but that neither did I indulge in water when in a heat, asat present, at which he looked disappointed and came somewhatreluctantly back to the buggy.
He brightened up, however, the moment he was again at my side.
"Now for the woods," he exclaimed, with what was undoubtedly a forcedlaugh.
I thought the opportunity one I ought not to slight.
"Do you think," said I, "that it is in those woods the disappearancesoccur of which Miss Knollys has told me?"
He showed the same hesitancy as before to enter upon this subject.
"I think the less you allow your mind to dwell on this matter thebetter," said he--"that is, if you are going to remain long in thislane. I do not expend any more thought upon it than is barely necessary,or I should not retain sufficient courage to remain among my roses andmy fruits. I wonder--pardon me the indiscretion--that you could bringyourself to enter so ill-reputed a neighborhood. You must be a verybrave woman."
"I thought it my duty--" I began. "Althea Knollys was my friend, and Ifelt I owed a duty toward her children. Besides--" Should I tell Mr.Trohm my real errand in this place? Mr. Gryce had intimated that he wasin the confidence of the police, and if so, his assistance in case ofnecessity might be of inestimable value to me. Yet if no such necessityshould arise would I want this man to know that Amelia Butterworth--No,I would not take him into my confidence--not yet. I would only try toget at his idea of where the blame lay--that is, if he had any.
"Besides," he suggested in polite reminder, after waiting a minute ortwo for me to continue.
"Did I say besides?" was my innocent rejoinder. "I think I meant thatafter seeing them my sense of the importance of that duty had increased.William especially seems to be a young man of very doubtful amiability."
Immediately the non-commital look returned to Mr. Trohm's face.
"I have no fault to find with William," said he. "He's not the mostagreeable companion in the world perhaps, but he has a pretty fancy forfruit--a very pretty fancy."
"One can hardly wonder at that in a neighbor of Mr. Trohm," said I,watching his look, which was fixed somewhat gloomily upon the forest oftrees now rapidly closing in around us.
"Perhaps not, perhaps not, madam. The sight of a blossoming honeysucklehanging from an arbor such as runs along my south walls is a greatstimulant to one's taste, madam, I'll not deny that."
"But William?" I repeated, determined not to let the subject go; "haveyou never thought he was a little indifferent to his sisters?"
"A little, madam."
"And a trifle rough to everything but his dogs?"
"A trifle, madam."
Such reticence seemed unnecessary. I was almost angry, but restrainedmyself and pursued quietly, "The girls, on the contrary, seem devoted tohim?"
"Women have that weakness."
"And act as if they would do--what would they not do for him?"
"Miss Butterworth, I have never seen a more amiable woman than yourself.Will you promise me one thing?"
His manner was respect itself, his smile genial and highly contagious. Icould not help responding to it in the way he expected.
"Do not talk to me about this family. It is a painful subject to me.Lucetta--you know the girl, and I shall not be able to prejudice youagainst her--has conceived the idea that I encourage William in anintimacy of which she does not approve. She does not want him to talk tome. William has a loose tongue in his head and sometimes drops unguardedwords about their doings, which if any but William spoke--But there, Iam forgetting one of the most important rules of my own life, which isto keep my mouth from babbling and my tongue from guile. Influence of acongenial companion, madam; it is irresistible sometimes, especially toa man living so much alone as myself."
I considered his fault very pardonable, but did not say so lest I shouldfrighten his confidences away.
"I thought there was something wrong between you," I said. "Lucettaacted almost afraid of you this morning. I should think she would beglad of the friendship of so good a neighbor."
His face took on a very sombre look.
"She is afraid of me," he admitted, "afraid of what I have seen or maysee of--their poverty," he added, with an odd emphasis. I scarcely thinkhe expected to deceive me.
I did not push the subject an inch farther. I saw it had gone as far asdiscretion permitted at this time.
We had reached the heart of the forest and were rapidly approaching theKnollys house. As the tops of its great chimneys rose above the foliage,I saw his aspect suddenly change.
"I don't know why I should so hate to leave you here," he remarked.
I myself thought the prospect of re-entering the Knollys mansionsomewhat uninviting after the pleasant ride I had had and the glimpsewhich had been given me of a really cheery home and pleasantsurroundings.
"This morning I looked upon you as a somewhat daring woman, the progressof whose stay here would be watched by me with interest, but after thecompanionship of the last half-hour I am conscious of an anxiety in yourregard which makes me doubly wish that Miss Knollys had not shut me outfrom her home. Are you sure you wish to enter this house again, madam?"
I was surprised--really surprised--at the feeling he showed. If mywell-disciplined heart had known how to flutter it would probably havefluttered then, but happily the restraint of years did not fail me inthis emergency. Taking advantage of the emotion which had betrayed himinto an acknowledgment of his real feelings regarding the dangerslurking in this home, despite the check he had endeavored to put uponhis lips, I said, with an attempt at _naivete_ only to be excused by theexigencies of the occasion:
"Why, I thought you considered this domicile perfectly harmless. Youlike the girls and have no fault to find with William. Can it be thatthis great building has another occupant? I do not allude to ghosts.Neither of us are likely to believe in the supernatural."
"Miss Butterworth, you have me at a disadvantage. I do not know of anyother occupant which the house can hold save the three young people youhave mentioned. If I seem to feel any doubt of them--but I don't feelany doubt. I only dread any place for you which is not watched over bysomeone interested in your defence. The danger threatening theinhabitants of this lane is such a veiled one. If we knew where itlurked, we would no longer call it danger. Sometimes I think the ghostsyou allude to are not as innocent as mere spectres usually are. Butdon't let me frighten you. Don't--" How quick his voice changed! "Ah,William, I have brought back your guest, you see! I couldn't let her sitout the noon hour in old Carter's parlor. That would be too much foreven so amiable a person as Miss Butterworth to endure."
I had hardly realized we were so near the gate and certainly wassurprised to find William anywhere within hearing. That his appearanceat this moment was anything but welcome, must be evident to every one.The sentence which it interrupted might have contained the mostimportant advice, or at the least a warning I could ill afford to lose.But destiny was against me, and being one who accepts the inevitablewith good grace, I prepared to alight, with Mr. Trohm's assistance.
The bunch of heliotrope I held was a little in my way or I should havemanaged the jump with confidence and dignified agility. As it was, Itripped slightly, which brought out a chuckle from William that at themoment seemed more wicked to me than any crime. Meanwhile he had not letmatters proceed thus far without putting more than one question.
"And where's Simsbury? And why did Miss Butterworth think she had got tosit in Carter's
parlor?"
"Mr. Simsbury," said I as soon as I could recover from the mingledexertion and embarrassment of my descent to terra firma, "felt itnecessary to take the horse to the shoer's. That is a half-day's work,as you know, and I felt confident that he and especially you would beglad to have me accept any means for escaping so dreary a waiting."
The grunt he uttered was eloquent of anything but satisfaction.
"I'll go tell the girls," he said. But he didn't go till he had seen Mr.Trohm enter his buggy and drive slowly off.
That all this did not add to my liking for William goes without saying.
_BOOK II_
THE FLOWER PARLOR
Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth Page 15