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Stanford Eveleth - Miss Dexie

S >> Stanford Eveleth >> Miss Dexie




"But I _do_ mean every word of it," and she stepped back out of his reach,
"and if you do not wish to hear me express myself more plainly, I'd advise
you to open the window at once."

"Hear me a moment, Dexie. I know you are prejudiced against me on account
of Gussie; but give me time to prove that I am in earnest when I say that
it is you that I love," and her hands were instantly imprisoned in his
strong clasp, "and I love you, Dexie, with the intense love that a strong
man feels for the one woman who is all the world to him, a love that is not
to be compared with the boyish feeling that Lancy Gurney has for you. Give
me some hope, Dexie, that sometime in the future, when you have rightly
considered the matter, you will look on me with a more kindly feeling in
your heart than you are willing to own to to-night."

Dexie freed her hands by a great effort. His words had flowed like a
torrent from his lips, and she took a step back from him, as she replied,

"Mr. McNeil, I will _never_ regard you in the light you are thinking of, so
all this talk is worse than folly."

"Have I spoken too late?" he almost hissed.

His eyes seemed to burn as he looked into her face.

"Have you already promised yourself to Lancy? Tell me!"

"I will not!" came the defiant answer. "You have no right to ask such a
question, and I will not answer it!"

Her defiant air and scornful words angered him. He had buoyed himself up
with the hope that if he once declared his love she would be touched with
the declaration, and, if she did refuse him, would do it in a kindly way
that would bid him hope for better luck by and by; but to have his love
flung back in his teeth, as it were, was more than his passionate nature
could bear.

"Oh! so you love him, do you, and spurn me. Tell me, is it so?"

Again she stepped back from him as he was speaking, and was unaware how
very near she was to the edge of the roof; but Hugh observed it, and
thinking he could force a confession from her lips through fear, if by no
other means, he quickly grasped her arm, saying in a voice trembling with
passion:

"Do you love him? Tell me, or I'll throw you over!"

Dexie turned her head, and for one awful moment, as she realized her peril,
her face blanched to her very lips; but instead of the answer Hugh
expected, she raised her eyes to his, and he quailed beneath their terrible
glance, as she cried:

"Throw me over then, you coward, for I'll never tell you!"

An instant they stood thus face to face, on the very edge of the roof, when
Hugh's better nature asserted itself, and he quickly drew her back to
safety, exclaiming hoarsely:

"Forgive me, Dexie, I never meant to do it, indeed I did not; I would not
harm a hair of your dear head for a thousand worlds!"

He felt weak and small before the girl whom he had thought to bend to his
will, and made no effort now to keep her from entering the house, but
stepped to the window beside her and raised it, endeavoring all the while
to get a word of forgiveness from her close-shut lips. She never even
turned her head in his direction, but entered the house and into her own
room, and Hugh was obliged to descend with a more uncomfortable feeling in
his breast than he had felt there when he sought Dexie's presence on the
roof. "Baffled, after all," was his silent comment; "a coward, she called
me; yes, it was a cowardly thing to do, and I might have known she would
resent it. But how handsome she looked as she defied me on the very edge of
the roof! I believe she would not have opened her lips and answered that
question, even to save her life, after she had once refused to speak! But
I'll win her yet, and she will be doubly dear when conquered at last, my
brave Dexie!" and with feelings that were only intensified by this
interview, he returned to the yard to prepare the carriage for the drive to
the depot next morning.

It was some satisfaction to be able to see that everything possible was
done for the comfort of his darling, though it was bitterness itself to
think of her going away under the escort of Lancy Gurney.

When he re-entered the house, his unusual pallor was quickly noticed by
Mrs. Gurney, and she kindly asked:

"Are you very tired, Hugh?"

Without lifting his eyes, he replied:

"No, not tired, but heart-sick."

"What is it, Hugh? What is the trouble?" she asked, in her kind, motherly
tone.

"Do not ask me, please! it is nothing that can be remedied, believe me,"
and he raised his eyes a moment and met her inquiring gaze.

"Well, my boy, you, like the rest of us, I suppose, have just so much pain
and trouble to bear in this world. Do not let it bear too heavily on your
young heart; all is for the best in the end, you know," and her hand was
laid on his shoulder with a sympathetic pressure, as she passed on.

All for the best! when in all the hasty preparations that are of necessity
left till the last few hours before a journey, no one even thought of the
fierce heart-struggle that was his, or would have cared about it had they
known it! There seemed to be no kind word of remembrance for him, amidst
the bustle and confusion that reigned around him. He felt as if he stood
apart from those who, up to this time, seemed as near to him as kith and
kin.




CHAPTER XIX.


Both families were early astir the next morning, but the hour soon arrived
that the last "good-byes" must be said, and Mrs. Gurney had reason to be
thankful that Dexie was one of the party, otherwise it would have been
impossible to have started Elsie on her journey without seeming to be
harsh. As it was, Elsie clung to each of the family in turn, as if her
journey were to extend to the Cape of Good Hope, and the length of her stay
to be indefinite. She was lifted into the carriage at last, her hat pulled
back on her head, and her disordered apparel otherwise smoothed out by
Dexie, and Hugh was bidden by Mr. Gurney to "drive on quickly," amidst the
shrill choruses of "good-byes" from the little ones of the family who had
gathered on the steps to see them off. Seeing that Elsie still kept looking
back and waving her handkerchief in token of farewell, Mrs. Gurney drew the
children into the house, and then went away to her own room, where, for a
short time, she remained. When she appeared among them again, her face had
regained its usual calm and placid expression. She had left her burden with
the Great Burden-bearer, and though her heart would go after her daughter
in loving solicitude, she felt that Elsie was in safe-keeping, and so could
rest content.

During the drive to the depot, Dexie was all life and animation. She plied
Lancy with questions which she gave little chance to answer, until she
succeeded in getting Elsie's attention turned to outward things, and as
they drove rapidly along the road, they began to speculate whether any of
the occupants of the cabs that were going in the same direction were to be
fellow-travellers.

Hugh was unusually silent--perhaps it was just as well that he was--but the
rest of the party kept up such a stream of talk that his want of speech was
not remarked.

His heart was too sore for speech, for Dexie's cold, indifferent look cut
deeper than she knew. He had not been able to get a word with her since the
unfortunate interview on the roof, but he felt that he _must_ have one
parting word, and he kept revolving in his mind what he could say that
would likely win for him one word of forgiveness for his unguarded words.

But it was not easy to obtain even the smallest speech amidst the bustle
and distraction of the moving crowd at the depot. Lancy hurried the girls
into the car that they might have a choice of seats, then, leaving them
comfortably seated, he left the car to secure their tickets and checks.

Had it not been for the fact that amidst the hurry of gathering up the
wraps, etc., from the carriage, they had forgotten that ever-welcome
addition to one's travelling paraphernalia, the lunch-basket, Hugh might
have been unable to get a word from Dexie beyond the curt "good-bye" that
she had already cut and dried, as it were, and ready to fling out the
window at him at the last moment.

But Hugh's keen eyes observed the forgotten basket, that had been packed
with such care, and seizing it he entered the car, just as Lancy was
leaving it at the opposite door.

Lancy had wisely chosen the centre seats as being the most comfortable, and
Dexie sat chatting gaily to Elsie lest the home-parting should again come
before her mental vision, when she saw Hugh enter the car.

She had just time to compose her face into a look of solemn indifference,
when Hugh reached her side.

"You forgot the lunch-basket, Elsie," he said, looking across at Dexie who
sat facing her. "You left it in the carriage."

"Oh! so we did," said Elsie. "Whatever should we have done if you had not
seen it in time! Wasn't it lucky, Dexie, that he noticed it?"

"Oh! I suppose so," was her indifferent reply, "but we could easily have
bought something when we felt hungry. I hope, Elsie, that you do not think
we are going into a wilderness where people live on grass roots!" and she
coolly leaned back in her seat, rearranged the pretty tie at her throat,
then pulled a book from the strap, as if ready for the perusal of it when
Hugh would be kind enough to relieve them of his presence.

But Hugh was not to be dismissed by hints. Taking the seat by Elsie's side,
and opposite Dexie, he said: "Still, I am sure you would have felt sorry
to have forgotten it; you know it is the last home-cooking you will eat for
some time, Elsie."

Whereupon Elsie's lip began to quiver, and a suspicion of moisture to
appear in her eyes; a word more of home matters would cause the drops to
fall into the handkerchief that Elsie was already pulling out of her
pocket, in readiness to catch the coming shower. Dexie could have boxed
Hugh's ears with a good grace, but she refrained.

"Don't be a goose, Elsie," was her flattering remark. "Just as if no one
else in the country could make a decent cake but your Susan! Don't, for
goodness' sake, get sentimental over eatables just because Mr. McNeil
happens to be struck that way."

The tears forgot to fall, the handkerchief was left in a crumpled heap,
hanging half out of her pocket; and as soon as the lump that was in her
throat could be disposed of, Elsie ventured meekly to remark that she "was
sure Lancy would be late if he did not hurry in."

This recalled Hugh to the fact that unless he made good use of the few
remaining minutes, his words to Dexie would be left unsaid; and as Elsie
leaned out the window in hopes of seeing Lancy, he bent forward to Dexie,
saying in a low voice,

"Say that you forgive me, Dexie, before you go. I was wild with pain at the
thought of you leaving me so long with nothing to hope for. I cannot let
you go without a word of forgiveness for my hasty words; you know I never
meant to do it, Dexie, for I would die to save you from harm."

"Very kind of you, I am sure! but pray do not have any funeral on my
account. I feel quite capable of looking after myself, and I hope you will
not make it necessary for me to repeat this assertion in the future. Say no
more about forgiveness; the occurrence is too recent for that, but I will
try to forget it."

"Dexie, do not speak so cruelly. How can I prove that I love you, and that
it was the thought of losing you that drove me to madness! You can't
believe that I meant to carry out my murderous threat--no! I cannot think
it, when my own heart aches with love and longing for you. If I write to
you, Dexie, and lay my heart open before you, surely you will believe me!"

"Do not trouble yourself to write, Mr. McNeil," was the scornful reply. "If
you have any heart-trouble, you will find me a poor physician, for I have
not the slightest interest in your condition."

"Dexie, are you going to leave me with no kinder remembrance of you than
those cruel words? I _must_ write, Dexie; say that you will answer my
letter," and a look of entreaty beamed from the dark eyes raised to her
face.

"Couldn't think of it! I am going away to enjoy myself, and am not going to
bother writing to every Tom, Dick and Harry, so I'll have to _throw you
over_!" and a pair of defiant eyes met his gaze.

Hugh's passionate nature was raised to the utmost, but he choked back the
words that rose to his lips, and giving her one long, earnest look, said in
a hoarse voice:

"You repeat my words! May you never have a happy moment until you are as
sorry for saying them as I am!" and he rose and left the car, meeting Lancy
on the steps.

"Well, Hugh, we are away at last," said Lancy, gaily. "Good-bye, old
fellow!"

But Hugh merely raised his eyes and hurried past, and before Elsie knew he
had left the car she saw him driving furiously down the road, past cabs and
trucks, escaping collision as if by a miracle, and the speed never slacked
until he had covered more ground than was necessary to take him home.

"What is the matter with Hugh?" said Lancy, as he seated himself beside his
sister. "I do think he might keep his temper occasionally. What has gone
wrong, now?" and he looked over at Dexie for his answer.

"I fear I am the wicked person that has gone wrong and as his eloquence
prevailed not in turning me from my evil ways he feels heart-sick."

"Heart-sick!" cried Elsie, in surprise; "that would not put him in a
temper, surely."

"Love-sick, then," said Dexie, with a smile; "that might account for it."
"Well," said Elsie, in a tone of disgust, "he must be awfully in love with
your Gussie, if he can't leave her long enough to drive us to the depot
without pining for her," whereupon Dexie forgot her surroundings and burst
into such a rippling laugh that Lancy felt forced to join her. The
infection spread to their fellow-travellers, and caused a smile to pass
around, although the cause of the merriment was unknown beyond the little
group from which it started.

"I fancy I can guess the cause of the trouble," said Lancy. "I daresay Hugh
found the parting painful. Am I right?"

Just then the starting-signal sounded, and the train sped away across the
country, and our travellers settled down to whatever comfort there is to be
obtained in a railroad car.

As soon as Lancy could get a word with Dexie, he asked her again what Hugh
had said to her, and she, willing to put his mind at ease, replied:

"He wanted me to promise that I would answer a letter he wished to write to
me, and I gave him to understand that I wanted no correspondence with my
sister's lover, so we had a few words over it and then parted--_not_
friends, I fear!"

Lancy knew that Hugh was only waiting his opportunity to oust him from his
favored position, and it delighted him to hear Dexie speak of him in that
strain.

"Thank you, Dexie; I guess Hugh can hear all he needs to know of you
second-hand."

Dexie smiled, and she did not pull away her hand when, for a moment, Lancy
laid his own shapely one across it. Lancy was her good friend; why should
he not feel sure of it? And a warm pressure of the hand goes a great way
towards proving friendship, to say nothing of a stronger feeling.

We must go back to Hugh, whom we left driving furiously along the road, his
heart full of bitter, angry feelings. He reproached Dexie for her cold,
heartless words, and himself for his ungovernable temper. He would give
worlds to recall those hasty words spoken on the roof, but it was too late;
he doubted if ever Dexie would forgive them. He felt that he could not
meet Mrs. Gurney's searching glance while in such a mood, so he kept on,
seeing nothing and hearing nothing of what was passing around him, his only
thought being to get away from human sight until the heat of the battle had
somewhat passed away.

It was not until some hours later that he made his appearance at Mrs.
Gurney's. She was becoming quite anxious at his long absence, as she wished
to hear the latest news of Elsie. Even when Hugh did return, he lingered so
long in the stable that she had to send a message to him before he made his
appearance.

He felt glad to find her alone in the room; he could not hide his feelings
from her, but others need not know of his weakness.

"How did she keep up, Hugh? Is she all right?"

"Elsie, you mean? Oh, yes. I think she is all right. She did not get a
chance to fret after she left the house."

"But what detained you? I suppose you stayed to see them off, but the train
must have gone hours ago."

"Yes, I know it, Mrs. Gurney; but I--I didn't stay to see them off--I
couldn't," he added, seeing her look of surprise. "I'm a fool, I suppose,
but I couldn't stand there and see her go away without giving me one kind
word, so I drove off down the road until I could hide my folly from others'
eyes. I have driven Bob pretty hard, I'm afraid, but I have rubbed him down
well, and he will be the first to recover from this day's work."

He spoke bitterly, but openly, as any loved son might speak to a tender,
sympathizing mother, and he had found her all that during the long years he
had lived with them; and though her own son had gained, as he thought, the
one thing he longed for, he knew she would feel for his disappointment.

"It is Dexie you mean. You do not like her to be going away with Lancy. Is
that it, Hugh?"

"Yes, but that is not all. She has treated me so scornfully, while
Lancy--." He broke off abruptly, with a gesture that finished the sentence
for him.

"But, Hugh, think a minute! Lancy's tastes are similar to her own. How can
she help showing the preference, when their very music seems to draw them
together? I would not have thought, Hugh, that you would be so willing to
give up Gussie as you seem to be. You are not trifling with both girls, I
hope, Hugh?"

"No, indeed! You do not understand, and I cannot explain; but Gussie is not
what I thought her at first, and Dexie--well, she is so much more. It does
not make it easier to bear to know that I have placed a barrier between us
with my own hands. Oh, my temper! my hateful temper! it has done me more
harm during the last twenty-four hours than during all my life long," and
he laid his arms across the table and bent his head upon them.

"Perhaps it is not so, after all; the last burst of temper always looks the
worst. Don't you think so, my boy? Forget it for a few moments, and tell me
about Elsie. Has she gone off in good spirits?"

"Yes, I believe so, but to tell the truth I had no thought for anyone but
Dexie. Elsie will not get a chance to fret, I feel sure, but I wish Dexie
felt half as bad about leaving home as _she_ does. It would be a comfort to
think about."

"I am quite surprised, Hugh! Surely you can see that Dexie's feelings for
you are far from encouraging, and how can you think that two such
firebrands--yes, you must excuse the term, if you do not like it, but it
suits you both--do you think you two _could_ be happy together? Have you
thought of this matter seriously, Hugh? I am afraid not. Yet one should
study well the character of the one whom we would choose to walk with along
life's road. We all know something of Dexie's temper, for she has not tried
to hide even her worst faults from us. With your own high temper, Hugh, it
would be a great risk to link your life with hers. There is nothing so
beautiful and complete as a happy married life, but there can be nothing so
unutterably miserable as an unhappy marriage."

"Well, it may be as you say, and Dexie may not be suitable in some ways for
me, but I can never care for anyone else as I care for her. If I could only
win her, I would make her so happy that there would never be any cause for
her to get angry with me."

But the memory of the words he had spoken on the roof a few short hours
before stung him at this moment, and sharply reminded him of his inability
to control himself as her lover. Would he be more likely to govern himself
as her husband?

Seeing that Mrs. Gurney was regarding him closely, he hastily rose to his
feet, saying:

"You are right, Mrs. Gurney, as you always are. I should not succeed in
controlling my temper in the future any better than I have done in the
past. I will try to overcome this foolishness. I love Dexie Sherwood too
well to wish to bring one moment of sorrow into her life."

He left the room and sought his own chamber, and during the hour he sat
there in silence he fancied he had buried forever every thought of tender
regard for Dexie Sherwood. He even imagined that he could look with favor
on Lancy, or anyone else, who would make her as happy as she deserved to
be.

His magnanimous feelings were even puffed up to that degree that he was
mentally witnessing her marriage ceremony, with Lancy as chief actor, when
the sound of the dinner-bell recalled him to his senses. Yet, when he sat
down to the table and beheld Lancy's empty seat, he ground his heel into
the rug under the table, as if it were his enemy, for the thought occurred
that Lancy, at this present moment, might be bending over the head so
precious to him, or whispering words in her ears which he never wished her
to hear, unless spoken by himself. Truly he did not know himself, and as
the nature of his thoughts occurred to him he almost despised himself for
his weakness. Surely he needed another grave than that he had dug while in
the privacy of his own room; a grave that would keep entombed that which he
wished to put forever out of his memory! It was only by bringing up to his
mind his own imperfections that he could keep Dexie out of his thoughts.

But as days went by, and other matters of importance intervened, he was
kept so busy, mentally as well as bodily, that his love was put back out of
sight; he felt her absence less keenly, and his love for Dexie was thought
of as a thing of the past.




CHAPTER XX.


We must now return to the young travellers, whom we left in the car,
expecting to reach their destination by nightfall. In this they were
disappointed, for when the train was within a few miles of Truro it came to
a sudden standstill, throwing some of the passengers out of their seats,
but seriously injuring no one.

"Something wrong with the engine!" was the explanation, when heads were
thrust from the windows to inquire the cause of the trouble.

This explanation was received with due submission by those accustomed to
railway travelling, but Elsie, her nerves unstrung by other causes, sat
crying hysterically, and would give no heed to Lancy's repeated declaration
that nothing serious was the matter.

"We will be detained here for a while, Elsie, but that is all," he added.

Elsie, though, seemed unable to control her sobs, and Dexie began to feel
anxious, for these crying fits invariably brought on a nervous headache,
and when at last the train started, Elsie was hardly in a fit state to
continue the journey.

Under the circumstances Lancy deemed it best to stop over at Truro until
the next trip of the Island boat. This would give Elsie time to recover,
and they would have an opportunity to see something of the pretty town they
had heard so highly praised.

Elsie felt relieved at this decision. She was unused to travelling, and
found the short journey tiresome in the extreme; indeed her throbbing
temples called imperatively for quietness and rest.

The train steamed into the dark, tunnel-like depot, and stepping out on the
platform, they found, after some difficulty, the little room that was
designated "The Waiting-Room," where Lancy left the girls to inquire for
hotel accommodations.

While in semi-darkness they waited his return, Dexie tried to ascertain if
there was not a pleasanter outlook than could be obtained from the door,
but the one dust-encrusted window gave a dim and indistinct view from that
quarter.

As if in answer to their wishes, Lancy speedily returned, and as they
gathered up their wraps Dexie asked:

"Do you know why they call this room the 'waiting-room,' Lancy? Give a
guess."

"Can't! I give it up," giving a glance around him.

"Well, I'll just tell you. This room has been 'waiting' for years for
someone to clean it, and that is how it has earned its name. Even the rusty
old stove has taken on the look of dejection that seems to haunt the
place."

Lancy was beginning to think that the little town had been very much
overpraised, as unfortunately the worst-looking part of it was situated
near the depot, and he felt disappointed and vexed that they had not been
able to continue their journey. His annoyance was increased when he learned
that there had been an excursion to the town the day before, crowding the
hotels, which had not yet recovered from the effects of the many
disturbances that had taken place inside their doors.

It was a new experience to the girls, this seeking a temporary home at a
public hotel, and the unpleasant features of hotel life, to which older
travellers shut their eyes, were to them unbearable.

Entering the parlor of the hotel to which he had been directed, Lancy told
the girls to be seated while he saw the proprietor; but the expression on
the faces of both girls gave Lancy some uneasy feelings, and Dexie's
uplifted nose told the cause of her disapproval.

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