XV
LUCETTA FULFILS MY EXPECTATION OF HER
It was not till Mr. Trohm had driven away that I noticed, in the shadowof the trees on the opposite side of the road, a horse tied up, whoseempty saddle bespoke a visitor within. At any other gate and on anyother road this would not have struck me as worthy of notice, much lessof comment. But here, and after all that I had heard during the morning,the circumstance was so unexpected I could not help showing myastonishment.
"A visitor?" I asked.
"Some one to see Lucetta."
William had no sooner said this than I saw he was in a state of highexcitement. He had probably been in this condition when we drove up, butmy attention being directed elsewhere I had not noticed it. Now,however, it was perfectly plain to me, and it did not seem quite theexcitement of displeasure, though hardly that of joy.
"She doesn't expect you yet," he pursued, as I turned sharply toward thehouse, "and if you interrupt her--D--n it, if I thought you wouldinterrupt her----"
I thought it time to teach him a lesson in manners.
"Mr. Knollys," I interposed somewhat severely, "I am a lady. Why shouldI interrupt your sister or give her or you a moment of pain?"
"I don't know," he muttered. "You are so very quick I was afraid youmight think it necessary to join her in the parlor. She is perfectlyable to take care of herself, Miss Butterworth, and if she don't doit--" The rest was lost in indistinct guttural sounds.
I made no effort to answer this tirade. I took my usual course in quitemy usual way to the front steps and proceeded to mount them without somuch as looking behind me to see whether or not this uncouthrepresentative of the Knollys name had kept at my heels or not.
Entering the door, which was open, I came without any effort on my partupon Lucetta and her visitor, who proved to be a young gentleman. Theywere standing together in the middle of the hall and were so absorbed inwhat they were saying that they neither saw nor heard me. I wastherefore enabled to catch the following sentences, which struck me asof some moment. The first was uttered by her, and in very pleadingtones:
"A week--I only ask a week. Then perhaps I can give you an answer whichwill satisfy you."
His reply, in manner if not in matter, proclaimed him the lover of whomI had so lately heard.
"I cannot, dear girl; indeed, I cannot. My whole future depends upon myimmediately making the move in which I have asked you to join me. If Iwait a week, my opportunity will be gone, Lucetta. You know me and youknow how I love you. Then come----"
A rude hand on my shoulder distracted my attention. William stoodlowering behind me and, as I turned, whispered in my ear:
"You must come round the other way. Lucetta is so touchy, the sight ofyou will drive every sensible idea out of her head."
His blundering whisper did what my presence and by no means lightfootsteps had failed to do. With a start Lucetta turned and, meeting myeye, drew back in visible confusion. The young man followed her hastily.
"Is it good-by, Lucetta?" he pleaded, with a fine, manly ignoring of ourpresence that roused my admiration.
She did not answer. Her look was enough. William, seeing it, turnedfurious at once, and, bounding by me, faced the young man with an oath.
"You're a fool to take no from a silly chit like that," he vociferated."If I loved a girl as you say you love Lucetta, I'd have her if I had tocarry her away by force. She'd stop screaming before she was well out ofthe lane. I know women. While you listen to them they'll talk and talk;but once let a man take matters into his own hands and--" A snap of hisfingers finished the sentence. I thought the fellow brutal, but scarcelyso stupid as I had heretofore considered him.
His words, however, might just as well have been uttered into empty air.The young man he so violently addressed appeared hardly to have heardhim, and as for Lucetta, she was so nearly insensible from misery thatshe had sufficient ado to keep herself from falling at her lover's feet.
"Lucetta, Lucetta, is it then good-by? You will not go with me?"
"I cannot. William, here, knows that I cannot. I must wait till----"
But here her brother seized her so violently by the wrist that shestopped from sheer pain, I fear. However that was, she turned pale asdeath under his clutch, and, when he tried to utter some hot, passionatewords into her ear, shook her head, but did not speak, though her loverwas gazing with a last, final appeal into her eyes. The delicate girlwas bearing out my estimate of her.
Seeing her thus unresponsive, William flung her hand from him and turnedupon me.
"It's your fault," he cried. "You _would_ come in----"
But, at this, Lucetta, recovering her poise in a moment, cried outshrilly:
"For shame, William! What has Miss Butterworth to do with this? You arenot helping me with your roughness. God knows I find this hour hardenough, without this show of anxiety on your part to be rid of me."
"There's woman's gratitude for you," was his snarling reply. "I offer totake all the responsibilities on my own shoulders and make it rightwith--with her sister, and all that, and she calls it desire to get ridof her. Well, have your own way," he growled, storming down the hall;"I'm done with it for one."
The young man, whose attitude of reserve, mixed with a strange andlingering tenderness for this girl, whom he evidently loved withoutfully understanding her, was every minute winning more and more of myadmiration, had meanwhile raised her trembling hand to his lips in whatwas, as we all could see, a last farewell.
In another moment he was walking by us, giving me as he passed a low bowthat for all its grace did not succeed in hiding from me the deep andheartfelt disappointment with which he quitted this house. As his figurepassed through the door, hiding for one moment the sunshine, I felt anoppression such as has not often visited my healthy nature, and when itpassed and disappeared, something like the good spirit of the placeseemed to go with it, leaving in its place doubt, gloom, and a morbidapprehension of that unknown something which in Lucetta's eyes hadrendered his dismissal necessary.
"Where's Saracen? I declare I'm nothing but a fool without that dog,"shouted William. "If he has to be tied up another day--" But shame wasnot entirely eliminated from his breast, for at Lucetta's reproachful"William!" he sheepishly dropped his head and strode out, muttering somewords I was fain to accept as an apology.
I had expected to encounter a wreck in Lucetta, as, this episode in herlife closed, she turned toward me. But I did not yet know this girl,whose frailty seemed to lie mostly in her physique. Though she wassuffering far more than her defence of me to her brother would seem todenote, there was a spirit in her approach and a steady look in her darkeye which assured me that I could not calculate upon any loss inLucetta's keenness, in case we came to an issue over the mystery thatwas eating into the happiness as well as the honor of this household.
"I am glad to see you," were her unexpected words. "The gentleman whohas just gone out was a lover of mine; at least he once professed tocare for me very much, and I should have been glad to have married him,but there were reasons which I once thought most excellent why thisseemed anything but expedient, and so I sent him away. To-day he camewithout warning to ask me to go away with him, after the hastiest ofceremonies, to South America, where a splendid prospect has suddenlyopened for him. You see, don't you, that I could not do that; that itwould be the height of selfishness in me to leave Loreen--to leaveWilliam----"
"Who seems only too anxious to be left," I put in, as her voice trailedoff in the first evidence of embarrassment she had shown since she facedme.
"William is a difficult man to understand," was her firm but quietretort. "From his talk you would judge him to be morose, if notpositively unkind, but in action--" She did not tell me how he was inaction. Perhaps her truthfulness got the better of her, or perhaps shesaw it would be hard work to prejudice me now in his favor.
Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth Page 16