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Stanford Eveleth - Miss Dexie

S >> Stanford Eveleth >> Miss Dexie




High words followed, but as Mr. Sherwood had the upper hand, Plaisted was
obliged to submit to his decision, and he soon left the room to collect his
belongings, having received a peremptory dismissal.

"There is one satisfaction that I wish you would grant me, Sherwood," he
said, turning as he reached the door, "Tell me how your daughter chanced
upon that letter." "No, that you need not know; but it was by the merest
accident, and was as great a surprise to her as it has been to me. But she
was sharp enough to see how important her information was, and knew that a
copy of your letter was the best guarantee she could bring me of your
craftiness."

"Sharp! yes, that is just the word for her. She is like a bunch of nettles,
stinging you if you but touch her. She has contrived to give me an
unpleasant memory of her every time I have been here. And so it is to her I
owe this break in our business intercourse;" and with flushed face and
flashing eyes he left the room, and before night he was journeying toward
the "land of the free," a sadder, and, let us hope, a wiser man.




CHAPTER XXVIII.


"Hope long deferred maketh the heart sick," and Hugh became dull and
morose; the happiness he hoped for seemed as far off as ever, and the
continued disappointment was making his life bitter. Mrs. Gurney saw the
change, and tried to persuade Hugh to go abroad. This he longed to do, but
waited; he might yet go abroad with Dexie as his travelling companion. He
would not take the message sent him as final; surely if he could see her
alone, face to face, he would compel her to give her reasons for refusing
him, and he might explain away her objections.

But Dexie considered the matter settled, and feeling herself free she
thought it right to drop her stiff, reserved manner, and be once more
friendly. This change made Hugh think that there was still hope for him,
and he determined to take a lover's privilege, and press his suit face to
face.

With this end in view, he called on the Sherwoods one afternoon, and
finding Mr. Sherwood alone, he asked permission to take Dexie out for a
sail, adding that there seemed no other way of seeing her alone.

"I doubt if she will go with you, Mr. McNeil," said Mr. Sherwood. "Why not
let the matter rest as it is? I don't think you are making much headway;
better not press it any further."

"She has not given me fair play," was the reply. "If I am to be refused,
why must I take it from another's lips? Give me the chance to open my heart
to her, and I will be satisfied."

"Well, Mr. McNeil, I wish you well; but she must choose as she likes. What
is the water like to-day?"

"Smooth as a mill-pond; scarcely a ripple," was the reply, as he followed
Mr. Sherwood into the next room.

"I have called to see if you will go for a sail, Miss Dexie," said Mr.
McNeil, as he entered the room and seated himself beside her. "You have not
been on the water for some time; it is a pity to miss this fine afternoon."

Gussie knew very well that she was not included in the invitation; but she
had no intention of being left out, so she eagerly answered:

"Oh, yes, of course we will go; it will be lovely and cool on the water
this hot afternoon."

Hugh knew it would be useless to hint that it was Dexie alone he wanted,
but he meant to get rid of her society somehow.

"You have not said if you would go, Dexie," said Hugh, looking intently
into her face.

"Oh, yes! certainly. I shall be delighted to go, if Gussie thinks she will
not get sick."

"I don't think Gussie was included in the invitation," said Mr. Sherwood,
looking up from his paper as he became aware of the situation.

"But of course it was understood; I would not go without her," said Dexie.
"What time shall we be ready?"

"I will call in half an hour," and Hugh left the room with his heavy brow
drawn into a decided frown.

During the walk to the wharf Hugh was so silent that Gussie began to banter
him on his gloomy countenance.

"You don't look as if you enjoyed the prospect of an afternoon on the
water, after all!" she said, laughing.

Hugh took no notice of her remarks, but handed the girls into the boat,
threw the shawls on a seat, and shoved off.

"I hope the wind will rise a little," said Dexie, as they seated
themselves. "You will find it rather tiresome to row all the time."

"We will catch a slight breeze after we get out a bit," replied Hugh.

But Gussie no sooner felt the motion of the boat than she repented her
decision in coming. She was a veritable coward on the water; the least
ripple made her shrink with fear, and nothing but her anxiety to keep Hugh
and Dexie apart would have allowed her to overcome her dread. But once on
the water, fear and sickness overmastered all else.

"Oh! do be careful!" she cried in alarm, as Hugh stepped forward to adjust
the sail, causing the little craft to dip slightly on one side.

"No danger, Gussie," said Dexie; "the boat will not tip as easily as you
suppose."

"But do you not think it is getting rough?" she asked, as a slight ripple
came towards them. "Oh! I wish I had not come. Do let us go back."

"The idea! Why, we have not been out ten minutes," said Dexie, who
thoroughly enjoyed the motion that sent the color from Gussie's face.
"Gussie, are you frightened, or sick?" she added, looking into her sister's
face.

"Both. Do ask Hugh to return; I am in misery."

Hugh lost no time in doing as he was requested, and they soon reached the
wharf. Gussie stepped ashore at once, glad to reach _terra firma_ again;
but as Dexie stepped forward to join her, Hugh turned sharply:

"Are you frightened, too? I thought you were made of something better."

The taunt aroused Dexie, and she replied:

"No, I'm not afraid. It was not I that asked to return."

Instantly Hugh stepped into the boat and, gave it a shove that sent it
several rods, saying:

"Then we'll not lose our sail on Gussie's account," and he bent to the
oars, sending the little boat far out into the stream.

Gussie stood on the wharf until she saw that they really meant to leave her
there, and then walked thoughtfully home.

"I wonder what this means?" was Dexie's inward comment when she found
herself alone with Hugh. "There is some method in this madness, for I see
it in his eyes."

She did not offer to begin the conversation until she saw Hugh hoist the
sail and turn towards Point Pleasant.

"Where are you going, Mr. McNeil? I thought we were going up the Basin."

"I think we will try the Arm; there will not be so many crafts about."

"Why this wish for seclusion?" said Dexie, forcing a smile. "Surely there
will be room for us as well."

Hugh paid no attention to this remark until they had turned up the Arm;
then dropping the sail and changing his seat to one opposite Dexie, he let
the boat drift with the tide.

Looking at her earnestly he said,

"It was a lucky thought that made me bring you out on the water. I thought
Gussie would soon get enough of it. We are not likely to be interrupted
here, and you cannot run away from me. Now, do you want me to tell you why
I have brought you here?"

"No; I have not the least curiosity about it," was the seemingly
indifferent reply.

"You know what I wish to say, Dexie, though you do not care to acknowledge
it," he said, in a low tone. "Believe me, Dexie, I have not been playing at
love-making all this time. I never was more in earnest in anything than I
am in this. Tell me, what is it that you have against me?"

"Mr. McNeil, I thought this matter was settled. You received the message I
sent you. Why bring up the subject again? I do not wish to hear another
word."

"You cannot help yourself, Dexie. You have had your own way in this all
along, and have not allowed me to say a word. Now it is my turn, and I will
not be put off. Remember all is fair in love and war."

Dexie was silent. She was a little afraid of Hugh in this mood, but no sign
of her fear appeared outwardly.

"I have reached the limit of torture that I can bear," said Hugh, after a
pause. "I have had harsh words and cold looks for a long time, and you have
slighted me on every possible occasion; but it has made no difference in my
love for you. It has grown until it has taken possession of me, and my life
seems to hold nothing worth living for with you left out of my future.
Dexie, have pity! Is my life of no account to you that you can toss it
aside without a thought?"

Dexie raised her eyes to the earnest face before her as she replied:

"I must think of my own self. Why should I make my life unhappy to please a
passing fancy of yours?"

"A passing fancy! I understand that remark; you mean it as a sneer. It was
a passing fancy with Gussie, I will admit. But, Dexie, it is a strong man's
love that now burns in my heart. Think of all that it is in my power to
give you, if you will only receive it. But the fact that I possess a
fortune gives me no pleasure unless I can share it with you. Say the word,
Dexie, and your every wish shall be gratified, if it is in the power of a
man or money to do so, and my whole life shall be spent in making you
happy. You need never have a care. What more could you ask of me, Dexie?"
His eager eyes seemed to burn into her very soul as he waited her reply.

"I ask you for nothing; but if you will take all this and lay it before
someone who could and would gladly accept it, you would be far happier in
the end. It is a waste of time to try and persuade me to do what my whole
soul refuses to consider, even for a moment."

"But why? Tell me why, Dexie? What have you against me? Is it on Gussie's
account, or is it Lancy Gurney that comes between us?"

"What matters the reason? Call it what you like, it stands between us, and
always will," she answered with rising color.

"You will not say! Can it be possible that you are so much in love with
Lancy Gurney that there is no room for a thought of me? He will never make
you happy; he knows nothing of love as I feel it--a schoolboy attachment,
that will soon be forgotten!"

"Be kind enough to leave Lancy's name out of this discussion altogether,"
said Dexie coldly, "and as there is nothing to be gained by prolonging this
unpleasant interview, we had better return home."

"You are mistaken if you think I am going to end this little excursion
without gaining my end. Do you remember the time Lancy took you to drive,
on purpose to gain your consent to whistle at the concert? Well, he kept
you out until you gave him your promise, and I intend to profit by that
idea of his, and keep you here until you give me a promise also."

"Why! Mr. McNeil, are you crazy?" said Dexie, in alarm. "What parallel do
you see in the case? What good would a promise do you which you know I
would break the moment I reached the shore?"

"You will not break any promise you make. I am not afraid of that. I think
I know you better than you do yourself, Dexie."

Dexie flushed angrily, and turned her eyes to see the position of their
boat. They had been drifting at the will of the tide, and she had given
little thought to it in her excitement. But now, understanding what might
be in store for her, it was necessary to think of some way of escape.

Could she keep Hugh from regarding her movements, and draw his attention
from their boat's course?

After a few minutes' silence she asked, a smile twitching the corners of
her mouth:

"I suppose there is not a piece of paper anywhere about," and she looked
into her pocket and beneath the seat in a vain search; and there was a
gleam of mischief in her eyes as she added: "I suppose you could not
accommodate me with a piece of paper, could you, Mr. McNeil? Oh, thanks.
And a pencil? Much obliged. Now, if there is only an empty bottle around
some place, with a tight cork, I'll not despise the shipwrecked mariner's
post office." "What are you going to do?" said Hugh, looking at her in
surprise.

"Well, if I am to be detained here indefinitely, I would like to send a few
parting words to Lancy. I am sure it would be _such_ a comfort to him, in
case the letter ever reached him, to know that I cared enough for him to
remain true under such trying circumstances."

Was she making fun of him or not? Hugh could not tell, but he snatched the
piece of paper from her hand and flung it over the side of the boat.

"Poor Lancy! how he will grieve for me!" she added in a commiserating tone,
as she watched the receding scrap of paper. "You might have allowed me that
one bit of consolation, I am sure, Mr. McNeil."

"Do you really love Lancy so much? I cannot believe it, Dexie."

"You might, nevertheless; for believe me, Mr. McNeil, if I had but one last
wish granted me, it would be that I might be transported to his side. Ah
me! I do not think I ever cared for him so much as I do at this present
moment," and Dexie began to sing in a minor tone and in the high, cracked
voice of an old woman:

"Why--do--we--mourn--departed--friends
Or--"

"Dexie, stop that!" and Hugh's' voice was sharp with pain and annoyance. "I
do believe you are the most vexatious creature that ever lived."

"It makes me happy to hear you acknowledge that, Mr. McNeil; and I think
you are far too sensible to want to spend your whole life with such a
vexatious creature as you know me to be. Put a stop to all this nonsense,
and let us return home."

"Never! You are trifling with a matter that is more than life and death to
me, and you make jokes while I suffer. Do you think I cannot see through
all this professed love for Lancy? Do girls in love confess it to a third
party so freely and openly? No! Lancy has no place in your heart at all. I
have watched you too closely to be mistaken," and before she was aware of
his intention her hands were seized in his strong grasp as he poured out
his heart in a torrent of passionate words.

Dexie was moved in spite of herself. She looked into the face so near her,
and asked herself the question, "Why could she not love him?" He surely
loved her truly, or he would not speak so earnestly. A future such as he
could give her would be eagerly grasped by many young girls. She had never
thought his face half so expressive as it now appeared to her. Yes, he was
very handsome after all; his very soul seemed shining through his eyes, and
as he talked she dropped hers before his earnest gaze.

"It is no use," she said at last, in a low tone. "I cannot, I cannot--

'I do not love you, Dr. Fell,
The reason why I cannot tell.'"

But, low as the words were, Hugh heard them.

"Never mind the love, Dexie; marry me, and the love will come afterwards."

"No, Mr. McNeil, I will not risk it," was her low reply, as she pulled her
hands from his close grasp. "I am quite sure we could not live a week in
peace and happiness. There is something in your very presence that raises
up the worst feelings in me, and why should I knowingly spoil all my life?"

"It is no risk, Dexie; you shall never have any reason to be vexed with me.
Your father is quite ready to accept me as a son-in-law; he trusts me, why
cannot you? My darling, you have had time to think it over. Give me your
promise; it need not be fulfilled until you wish it."

"I cannot give a promise I have no wish or intention of keeping, and how
can you ask such a thing? How can you want an unwilling bride?"

"Never mind me, Dexie. Say you will be my wife sometime, and that will be
enough. You will never regret it."

Dexie covered her face with her hands, and thought it over. The few
minutes' silence was broken by Hugh, who hoarsely asked:

"Will you give me your promise, Dexie?"

"No, I will not!"

"But you shall! I swear it! Do you think I am not in earnest?" and the
love-light in his eyes was dimmed by a harder and fiercer look. "You will
return home my promised wife, or not at all!"




CHAPTER XXIX.


They had drifted on and on.

A little to the left a vessel was riding at anchor, and Dexie felt sure
there must be someone on board who would help her. If she could only alter
the course of the boat and get into the current, it might bring them near
enough to attract attention, then she would shout for help.

There was a long silence between them. Hugh regarded her earnestly, feeling
sure she would give in at last. Dexie had no thought of doing so, but was
striving to think of some way to escape him. As she sat, her hands folded
in her lap, she studied well the position of the vessel; noting also the
ladders that hung over the side, and a daring thought entered her mind.

"Dear me!" she said at last, "this is getting very monotonous. I am tired
doing nothing. I think I might learn how to use an oar, even though I may
never have the chance to put my knowledge into practice."

She reached forward and grasped a light oar, handling it rather awkwardly,
as a novice might, but succeeded at last in getting the blade over the
side, more by chance than good management, apparently.

"I thought you knew how to use an oar already," said Hugh, his mind turned
a moment from the subject that had been absorbing him. He watched the
spasmodic dabs that Dexie was making, not thinking there was any purpose in
the seemingly awkward efforts at rowing.

"Well, no--I'm not much of a hand at it--I must confess, but I think--I
could learn--in time," and she glanced up to see if they were nearing the
vessel; but Hugh followed her look and instantly surmised her intention.

"Ha! I see your scheme! Let me warn you not to make any outcry in hope of
getting assistance from that vessel, for I tell you it would come too
late."

"I am not afraid of your threats, sir, as you might know by this time,"
said Dexie, in a firm voice. "I do not forget the time you were going to
throw me from the roof, if I did not say the words you wished to hear. I am
a good swimmer, let me tell you, so you will not find me so easy to drown
as you may imagine; however, accidents will happen, and I would fain die a
dry death, so take up the oars and turn back to the city, or I shall jump
overboard, and try and make for that vessel."

"Sit down, Dexie," said Hugh, fiercely. "Do you think I am such a fool as
to let you escape me, after all? Let me tell you, I planned for all
emergencies before I asked you to come out with me, and yesterday I made my
will and settled up my affairs by writing a letter for your father, in case
we do not return. So take care, it remains with you if there shall be a
tragedy. There shall be no risk of a separation, for if you make any effort
to escape, it will be stopped by this," and a bright revolver gleamed in
the rays of the setting sun.

Dexie shuddered in spite of herself. The dread of firearms was as strong in
her as in most of her sex, and she shrank back in her seat with a horrified
look.

"A fine proof of your regard, I must say, to carry a loaded revolver on
purpose to shoot me!" was the scornful reply.

"I prepared it for myself alone. Don't drive me to use it against either of
us. Will you promise not to call for help?"

And looking at the murderous toy she gave the promise; and Hugh, knowing
she would keep it, laid it on the seat beside him.

"Alone, and with a madman! Heaven help me!" was Dexie's thought. Her heart
beat wildly. She dared not take her eyes from his face. But there was
something in her glance that had power to subdue him, and, feeling this,
she met his gaze unflinchingly. The oar still lay across her lap. Gently,
with an almost imperceptible motion, its blade reached the water, and
slowly, very slowly, the distance between the boat and vessel was
shortened. She sat back in her seat so still that the slight movement of
her wrists was not observed, for Hugh's eyes seemed riveted to her face;
there seemed a mesmeric power in the depths of her eyes that held him, and
obliterated all else from his mind.

Dexie's heart gave a great throb as the shadow of the vessel fell across
the boat; but still he saw nothing till Dexie bent forward to give the
strong pull to the oar that would give her freedom or death. The boat
answered the touch and gave a sideward lurch that sent it broadside against
the vessel, and Hugh woke as from a trance. One upward glance, and he
sprang forward to thrust the boat aside and keep her off. But as he turned
his back Dexie sprang up, and it was but the work of an instant to slip the
revolver into her pocket, and as the boat swept past she grasped the rope
ladder that hung from the vessel's side.

Terror seemed to lend her wings, for she found herself on the vessel's deck
before she had time to draw a breath, where half fainting she lay for some
moments, thanking Heaven for her safety.

But was she yet safe? No sign of life appeared on deck; but might there not
be a number of sailors, drunk, below? Would she be any safer in their
company than with Hugh? She shut her teeth hard at the thought, and
slipping her hand into her pocket, with fear and trembling, she pulled out
the revolver, and laid it at her side. How had she dared to touch it? Yet,
while facing Hugh, the possession of that revolver seemed the one thing to
be desired; but now that she had it she dreaded to touch it, though it was
her only protector in this, her awful position.

When the boat slipped clear of the vessel, and Hugh turned about and
realized that he was alone, he sank down on the seat as if powerless to
move.

Where was Dexie? How had she escaped? No cry had reached his ears, no sound
of splashing water warned him that she had gone over the side. Yet he was
alone, Alone!

His terrified glance swept the water around him, as if he expected to see
her upturned face in the waves that mocked his misery by their ceaseless
motion.

Merciful Heaven, had he lost her, after all; lost the life that was dearer
to him than his own? It could not be. A few rapid strokes, and he was again
at the vessel's side, intending to summon assistance from those on board to
aid him in his search. Had either of them known that the two men on board
the vessel were hopelessly drunk in their berths below, and that the rest
of the crew were about returning from Halifax charged with hell-fire in the
shape of Water Street whiskey, it might have made some difference in the
actions of both.

Dexie watched Hugh's movements with interest, but when she saw him
approaching the vessel her fear of him again increased, and she rose and
confronted him.

"Don't come any nearer, I warn you!" she cried. "I hold the revolver now,
and I shall not scruple to use it for my own safety."

"Dexie, how did you get there?" was the relieved reply. "Put down that
revolver before you do harm with it. You must come back in the boat! Do you
think you are safe among a lot of sailors!"

Hugh seemed perfectly sane how, whatever may have been the condition of his
mind previously, and he shuddered as her unprotected condition flashed over
him.

"Keep off, McNeil! don't come any nearer at your own peril! I will trust
myself among a shipload of drunken sailors before I will put myself in your
power again."

"Dexie, I'll give you my word of honor to take you home at once, if you
will leave the vessel. Come, you need not fear me any more; I think I must
have been mad."

"Keep off, I tell you! I am not so foolish as you think! I don't forget you
prepared that revolver in your sober senses, whatever may have been your
state of mind awhile ago. Keep back, or you shall have the bullet you
prepared for me!"

What could he do? She seemed terribly in earnest, yet, if she did not come
back with him, how should she be able to return at all? Should he make a
dash and rescue her against her will? She seemed to define his thoughts,
for she leaned over the side, saying:

"Go at once, and send someone for me, for if I ever reach Halifax again it
won't be under your care! Go, I say! I hate you! I _hate_ you! You need not
try to reach me," as Hugh rowed nearer. "You just touch that ladder, and
you will find my bleeding body here, not a living person!"

Hugh sat in the boat irresolute, not knowing what to do.

"I cannot leave you there, Dexie; you _must_ come back to me, and come
quickly before you are discovered. I swear I will row you home at once, and
not trouble you with a word," and the boat almost touched the vessel's
side. It was heavily laden, and sat low in the water, and Dexie felt the
distance between them was very short indeed. If Hugh insisted on reaching
her, the struggle would be short and soon over, for nothing would persuade
her to go back in the boat with Hugh again. She raised her arm; and the
sound of a shot was sent over the water, followed simultaneously with a
sharp, splintering sound, as the little leaden missile tore its way along
the stern of the little boat.

Dexie look around, expecting the sound would surely bring someone from
below, and if that someone was not sober, Hugh was still near enough to
help her. But no one appeared; she seemed the only living person on board.
She looked back at Hugh. She had not hurt him, nor had she intended to do
so, but she struck much nearer than she knew, and Hugh went back a stroke
or two.

"Do you believe I am in earnest now?" she asked, as she still held the
revolver in her hand. "Go and bring someone for me while there is time, for
I will never go back with you!"

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