Читать книгу Her Mother's Secret - Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth - Страница 16

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The “Minotaur” did persist, you may be sure! A beautiful girl and a rich inheritance were not to be given up by him for any scruples of conscience or movements of pity.

He wooed Odalite in the face of her evident aversion, which soon grew to detestation.

He followed her about, joined her in her walks, surprised her in her solitude; he would take no hint from her avoidance, no offense at her coldness, no rebuff from her rudeness; but would take her hand with such a pressure, look at her with such a gaze, speak to her in such a tone as would make the girl’s blood run cold with a horrible abhorrence which she could not comprehend.

This went on for a week before the affair came to a crisis.

She had stolen out of the house to avoid him. It was a splendid winter day, and very mild for the season.

She resolved to take a long walk through the woods, even so far as Chincapin Creek, a mile and a half away.

Calling the bulldog, Joshua, after her, she set out with a brisk step over the frozen ground, dry with stubble and shining with frost, and through the bare wood, still glittering with icicles, that were, however, fast melting under the sun’s rays.

When she reached Chincapin Creek she sat down on a large stone, over which she had thrown an extra shawl, and she rested in the thought that there at least she might remain for a little time without being disturbed either by the intrusion of her “black beast” or by a summons to attend him.

But she was mistaken.

He, who had watched her every movement, and even by some devilish inspiration seemed to know her every intention beforehand—he, lurking in the shade of the curtain, and looking from his chamber window, had seen her come out of the house, warmly dressed in her quaint walking suit of a brown cloth winter cloak “all buttoned up before,” and brown beaver poke bonnet tied down under her chin, cross the lawn and pass out of the south gate toward the woods beyond—followed by the faithful house dog.

He knew instinctively why she had left the house and where she was going.

He waited until she had entered the wood, and then he left his hiding place, drew on his overcoat, took his hat and gloves, went downstairs and left the house in pursuit of her.

He walked fast until he came into the woods, where he heard her voice a few rods ahead of him talking to her dog.

Then he slackened his pace and walked softly behind her. The closeness of the undergrowth prevented him from catching even a glimpse of her little poke bonnet; but he still heard her talking to her dog.

Presently these sounds ceased, and he crept cautiously on and found her sitting on a stone at the further end of the rustic bridge that crossed Chincapin Creek, with the dog lying at her feet.

Joshua never could abide Anglesea, and his threatening growl was the first warning that Odalite had of the approach of her natural enemy.

“You should not walk alone in these woods, my dear Miss Force,” he said, coming up to her side and leaning on the railing of the bridge as he bent over her.

“I am not alone. The dog is with me, and he would not let any one injure or even annoy me. See! if I had not now his head on my lap and my hands around his neck, he would fly at you even. Easy—easy, Joshua, good fellow!” she added, softly caressing the guardian who was showing his teeth and muttering low thunder.

“I hope I do not annoy you. Miss Force,” he pleaded, in a persuasive tone, as he bent nearer to her.

“If I speak the truth, Col. Anglesea, I must say that you certainly do,” replied the girl, drawing the short ears of her dog through her fingers and watching the process as if it required care.

“In what way am I so unfortunate?”

“You know very well; you follow me wherever I go, and intrude on me when I wish to be alone. I am sorry to speak so to my dear father’s guest; but you should remember that you are his guest and not his daughter’s, and should give him a little of your society, instead of pressing it all upon me!”

“The steel must follow the magnet! The moth must fly to the flame! And I, beautiful Odalite, must follow you! I have no choice.”

“You are talking absurdities, quite unworthy of a man of your age, Col. Anglesea,” replied Odalite, without looking up, and unconsciously pulling her dog’s ears so hard that even Joshua’s great patience gave way, first in a deprecating whine that produced no effect; and then in a despairing howl that quickly brought his mistress to a sense of her cruelty. She apologized to the victim so earnestly and caressed him so tenderly that Joshua grew ashamed of his want of doghood, and began to assure his mistress, in eloquent dumb show, that it was all a misapprehension on her part; that he wasn’t hurt at all; that she never did hurt him and never could; that, in face, he was howling at—well, at the squirrel over yonder on the tree; or, yes, at the turkey buzzard flying overhead.

Meanwhile Col Anglesea looked on in disgust.

“And do you think, my dear young lady, that this childish play is quite worthy of your years?” he inquired.

“Yes! quite!” she answered, gravely.

“Will you listen to me for a moment?”

“I would rather not, Col. Anglesea; but perhaps, after all, I had better hear what you have to say and get it over. Then, probably, I shall have some peace.”

He seated himself on the railing of the bridge, above and a little behind her. And then he made an ardent declaration of his love and an offer of his hand.

Odalite grew pale and cold as she listened to him, not in fear, but in wrath, disgust and abhorrence.

“Has my father authorized you to speak to me on this subject, Col. Anglesea?” she inquired, in a freezing tone, without looking at him.

“No, my dearest one; but your mother has.”

Odalite shook her head with derisive incredulity. Col. Anglesea continued as if he had not seen her gesture:

“And I want your authority to speak to your father of these my most cherished hopes.”

“Then, sir, you need not trouble him on the subject. I suppose, sir, that I ought to thank you for the honor you have done me by this offer, but I have to assure you that it is utterly impossible for me to accept it,” she said, in the same icy tone, and without glancing toward him.

“Oh, why, my dear Miss Force?” he inquired, with an insinuating smile, as he bent down to look in her face.

But she kept her eyes averted, as she answered, coldly:

“Because I have long been engaged to my cousin, Mr. Leonidas Force, who is coming home at Christmas, when we shall be married and go to live at Greenbushes, as you know very well, Col. Anglesea, for you have heard the whole matter freely discussed. You know this so well that I am surprised at the inconsistency of your action in offering me your hand.”

“That childish engagement, made so long ago—if it was ever formally made at all, which is doubtful—really amounts to nothing whatever! It could form no obstacle to your union with me.”

“You mistake, sir. Although the engagement was not formal, it was so well understood that all the preparations have been ordered and begun by both parties. But that you may clearly understand me, Col. Anglesea, and that you may drop this matter at once and forever, I must assure you that if I were entirely free I could never accept your offer, because I could never like you well enough.”

Notwithstanding her decided refusal and frank explanation, Anglesea would take no denial, but continued to press his odious suit, until at length Joshua, seeing his mistress’ distress, and knowing who caused it, started up and made a spring at the man’s throat. Quick as lightning Odalite seized the dog by the collar and drew him down.

“You see,” she said, “if you continue to persecute me, I shall not be able to keep the dog off you. I think you had better go home.”

“And I think you had better quiet that brute! For if he should attack me again, I shall shoot him dead,” exclaimed Anglesea, savagely, drawing a small revolver from his pocket and holding it in his hand.

The girl looked up at the man for the first time since they had met in the wood, but it was with a gaze so fearless, so full of scorn, that the ruffian’s eyes fell beneath it.

“Come, Joshua, good dog, let us go home. We have ‘fallen among thieves’ this morning. Our woods are no longer safe for you and me. They are infested with brigands! Do you know what a brigand is, Joshua? A brigand is a fine, brave, terrible soldier, who is not afraid of anything! Not even afraid of insulting young ladies and shooting their faithful dogs. When armed to the teeth, he is the terror of little boys and baby girls. Come, Joshua!”

She arose, and keeping her hand on the dog’s collar, recrossed the bridge, and walked leisurely along the woodland path.

Col. Anglesea left his perch on the railing, and, with a mocking smile, sauntered after her.

She turned upon him with flashing eyes.

“Keep your distance, sir! If you presume to come near me, as I live, I will go to my father as soon as I get home, and appeal to him for protection from you!” she said, still holding a firm grip upon the collar of Joshua, who was grimly showing his teeth and growling

“Full defiance, hate and scorn”

of the intruder on his mistress’ company.

Now that Mr. Force should hear of Angus Anglesea’s suit to his daughter from herself, and at this stage of the proceedings, was a misfortune that Col. Anglesea would most earnestly have deprecated. So he bowed with mock submission and replied:

“Pardon me, I will say no more. Your mother must be my advocate with you. I must send her to you to plead my cause.”

And with another and a deeper bow he stepped to the side of the path and let the girl and her dog pass on before him.