Читать книгу The Greatest Romance Novels of Grace Livingston Hill - Grace Livingston Hill - Страница 71

Table of Contents

When the service was ended Phoebe took good care of her eyes that they should not look toward the stranger. Nathaniel Graham was kept busy for the first few moments shaking hands with old friends, and talking with the minister, who came down from the pulpit on purpose to greet him, and when he turned, as he did on the first opportunity, the pew behind him was empty, and the eyes that had met his when he came in were nowhere to be seen. He looked anxiously over the receding audience towards the open door, and caught the glimmer of the buff merino. Hastily excusing himself to Janet on the plea that he wished to speak to someone and would join her later, Nathaniel made his way down the aisle, disappointing some good old ladies who had been friends of his mother, and who were lying in wait for him at various pew doors.

Miranda, who had been awaiting the pleasure of David and Marcia, saw it all, and her eager eyes watched to see if he would catch Phoebe. The way being open just then, she pressed out into the aisle, and, for once leaving Rose to follow with her mother, hurried to the door.

Nathaniel did not overtake Phoebe until she had gone down the church steps, and was on the path in front of the church-yard that led to the shed where many of the conveyances were tied. He stepped up beside her, taking off his hat with a cheery, "Good morning,"and Phoebe's pink cheeks and smiling eyes welcomed him happily.

"I wanted to be quite sure you were all right after your adventure the other day,"he said, looking down into the lovely face with real pleasure; and then, before she could even answer, Hiram Green stepped up airily as if he belonged, and looked at Nathaniel questioningly as though he were intruding, saying, "Well, here you are, Phoebe; I lost track of you at the church door. We better step along. The carryall is waitin'."

Nathaniel looked up annoyed, then puzzled, recognized Hiram, with astonishment, and said, "I beg your pardon, I did not know I was keeping you from your friends,"to Phoebe, and, lifting his hat with a courteous "Good morning, Mr. Green,"to Hiram, stepped back among the little throng coming out of the church door.

Now Miranda had been close behind, for she was determined to read every chapter of her romance that appeared in sight. She saw the whole maneuver on Hiram Green's part, and the color that flamed angrily into Phoebe's cheek when she recognized Hiram's interference. She also saw the dismay that showed in the girl's face as Nathaniel left her and Hiram Green made as if to walk beside her. Phoebe looked wildly about. There seemed no escape from him as a companion without making a deliberate scene, yet her whole soul revolted at having Nathaniel Graham see her walk off with Hiram.

Quick as a flash Miranda caught the meaning of Phoebe's look and flew to her assistance.

She called quite clearly, "Phoebe! Phoebe Deane! Wait a minute, I want to tell you something!"She had raised her voice on purpose, for she stood directly behind Nathaniel, and, as she had hoped, he turned to see Phoebe respond. She noted the sudden light in his eyes as he saw that the girl to whom he had just been talking responded to the name, but she did not know that it was a light of satisfaction because he had found out her name without asking anyone. He stood a moment and looked after them. He saw quite plainly that Phoebe dismissed the sulky Hiram with a word and went off with Miranda. He saw that Hiram did not even raise his hat on leaving Phoebe, but slouched off angrily without a word.

"Say, Phoebe Deane,"said Miranda, familiarly, "my Mrs. Spafford,"—this was Miranda's common way of speaking of Marcia in the possessive—"she's ben talkin' a long time 'bout you, and wishin' you'd come to see her, an' she's ben layin' out to ask you to tea, but things hes prevented. So, could you come Tuesday? You better come early and stay all the afternoon, so you can play with Rose. She's the sweetest thing! "

"Oh, I'd love to come,"said Phoebe, her face aglow with pleasure. "I've always admired Mrs. Spafford so much, and little Rose is beautiful, just like a rose. Yes, tell her I will come."

Just then came the strident voice of Emmeline.

"Phoebe! Phoebe Deane! Was you intendin' to go home with us, or had you calculated to ride with Hiram Green? If you're comin' with us we can't wait all day."

With scarlet cheeks, angry heart, and trembling limbs Phoebe bade Miranda a frightened good-by and climbed into the carriage, not daring to look behind her to see who had heard the hateful words of her sister-in-law. Oh, had the stranger heard them ? How dreadful if he had! How contemptible, how unforgivable in Emmeline! How could she endure this persecution any longer? She did not even dare lift her eyes as they drove by the church, but sat with drooping lashes and burning cheeks, so missing the glance of the young man Nathaniel as he stood on the sidewalk with his cousin, waiting for another opportunity to lift his hat. Perhaps it was as well, for she would have been most unmercifully teased and cross-questioned if Emmeline and Alma had seen him speak to her.

Miranda watched the Deanes drive away, and turned with a vindictive look of triumph to stare at Hiram Green getting into his chaise alone. Then she began to reflect upon what she had done.

About four o'clock that afternoon, the dinner dishes being well out of the way, and the Sunday quiet resting upon the house, Miranda presented herself before Marcia with the most guilty look upon her face that Marcia had ever seen her wear.

"Well, I've up an' done it now, Mrs. Marcia, an' no mistake. I expect I'll have to leave you, an' the thought of it jes' breaks my heart."

"Why, Miranda! "said Marcia, sitting up very suddenly from the couch where she had been reading Bible stories to Rose. "You're not—you're surely not going to get married!"

"Not by a jugful I ain't. Do you s'pose I'd hev enny man that would take up with freckles an' a turn-up nose in a wife? I've gone and done sumpin' you'll think is a heap worse'n gittin' married. But I didn't tell no lie. I was keerful enough 'bout that. I only told her you'd been talkin' 'long back 'bout askin' her, an' you hed all right 'nough, only I oughtn't to a ast her, an' set the day an' all 'thout you knowin'. I knowed it at the time well 'nough, but I hed to do it, 'cause the circumstances wuz sech. You see thet squint-eyed Hiram Green was makin' it out that she was somewhat great to him, a paradin' down the walk there from the church, an' a driven' off that nice city cousin of Janet Bristol's with his nice, genteel manners, an' his tippin's of his hat, an' her a lookin' like she'd drop from shame, so I called her to wait, an' I runs up an' talks to her, an' course then she tels Hiram Green he needn't to trouble to wait fer her, an' we goes off together in full sight of all. My, I was glad I beat that skin-flint of a Hiram Green, but I was that excited I jes' couldn't think of 'nother thing to do 'cept to invite her."

"Who in the world are you talking about, Miranda? And what terrible thing have you done?"

Marcia's laughing eyes reassured Miranda and she went on with her story.

"Why that pretty little Phoebe Deane,"she explained. "I've invited her to tea Tuesday night. I thought that would suit you better than any other time. Monday night things ain't straight from wash-day yet, and I didn't want to put it off too long, an' I can make everything myself. But if you don't like it I'll go an' tell her the hull truth on't, only she did look so mortal pleased I hate to spoil her fun."

By degrees Marcia drew the whole story from Miranda, even to a voluble description of the buff merino, and its owner's drooping expression.

"Well, I don't see why you thought I would be displeased,"said Marcia. "It is only right you should invite company once in a while. I am glad you invited her, and as you do most of the work, and know our plans pretty well, you knew it would likely be convenient. I am glad you invited her."

"But I didn't invite her,"said Miranda, "leastways she doesn't know I did. She thinks you done it yourself, and she sent you a whole lot of thanks, and said she 'dmired you tumble. And I didn't tell a thing but the truth either,"Miranda added, doggedly.

"You blessed old Miranda. You always have a way of wiggling out. But you do manage to make things go your way in spite of truth or anything else. And it was truth after all, for I did want her, and would have asked her myself if I had known. You see you were just my messenger that time, acting in my place."And she gave Miranda one of the smiles that had so endeared her to the heart of the lonely girl. Then Miranda went back to her kitchen comforted.

Thus it came about that the buff merino had the prospect of another tea-party, and the thought of it made Phoebe forget the annoyances of her home all through the dull Sabbath afternoon, when she could not get away from the family because Emmeline had ordered her to "stay downstairs and mind the baby, and not prance off to her room like a royal lady,"and through the trials of Monday with its heavy work, which did not even cease with the washing of the tea things, but continued in the form of a great basket of mending which Emmeline announced at the supper table were "all to be finished and put away that evening."Emmeline seemed to have made up her mind to be as disagreeable as possible. Phoebe sat beside the candle and sewed with weary fingers, and longed to be away from them all where she might think over quietly the pleasant things that had come into her life of late. Hiram Green came in, too, and seemed to have come with a purpose, for he was hardly seated in his usual chair with its back tilted against the wall, and the fore-legs tipped up, when he began with:

"Say, Albert, did you see that nincompoop of a nephew of Judge Bristol in the church? Does beat all how he takes on airs jest because he's been off to college. Gosh! I ken remember him goin' fishin' in his bare feet, and here he was bowin' round among the ladies like he'd always been a fine gentleman and never done a stroke of work in his life. His hands are ez white and soft ez a woman's. He strikes me very ladylike, indeed, he does. Smirkin' round and takin' off his hat ez if he'd nothin' better to do. Fine feathers don't make fine birds, I say. I don't believe he could cut a swath o' hay now to save his precious little life. He made me sick with his airs. Seems like Miss Janet better look after him ef she expects to marry him, er he'll lose his head to every girl he meets."

Something uncontrollable seemed to have stolen the blood out of Phoebe's heart for a moment, and all her strength was slipping away from her. Then a mighty anger rolled through her being, and surged to her very finger-tips, yet she held those fingers steadily, as her needle pierced back and forth through the stocking she was darning with unnecessary care. She knew perfectly well that these remarks were entirely for her benefit and she resolved not to let Hiram see that she understood or cared.

"Is he going to marry his cousin Janet ?"asked Albert, interestedly. "I never heard that."

"You didn't ? Well, where've you ben, all these years ? It's ben common talk sense they was little tads. Their mothers 'lowed that was the way it was to be, and they was sent away to separate schools on that account; I s'pose they was afraid they'd take a dislike to each other ef they saw each other constant. 'Pon my word I think Janet could look higher, an' ef I was her I wouldn't be held by no promise of no dead mothers. But they do say she worships the very ground he walks on, an' she'll hold him to it all right enough, so it's no sort o' use fer any other girls to go anglin' after him."

"I heard he was real bright,"said Albert, genially. "They say he's taken honors, a good many of 'em. He was president of the Philomathean Society in Union College, you know, and that's a great honor."

Albert read a good deal, and knew more about the world's affairs than Hiram.

"Oh, bah! That's child's play!"sneered Hiram. "Who couldn't be president of a literary society? It don't take much spunk to preside. I take it I ran the town meetin' last year 'bout's well 's ef I'd ben a college president. My opinion is Nate Graham would 'v' 'mounted to more ef he'd stayed t' home an' learned farmin', 'er studied law with his uncle an' worked fer his board. A feller thet's all give over to lyin' around makin' nuthin' of himself don't amount to a row o' pins."

"But they say Dr. Xott thinks he's got brains,"persisted Albert. "I'm sure I'd like to see him come out on top. I heard he was studying law in New York now. He was always a pleasant-spoken boy when he was here."

"What's pleasant speakin'! "growled Hiram. "It can't sell a load o' wheat."His unsold wheat was bitterly in his thoughts.

"Well, I don't know 'bout that, Hiram."Albert felt pleasantly argumentative. "I don't know but if I was going to buy wheat I'd a little sooner buy off the man that was pleasant spoken than the man that wasn't."

Hiram sat glumly and pondered this saying for a few minutes, and Phoebe took advantage of the pause in conversation to lay down her work-basket, determinedly saying to Emmeline:

"I'll finish these stockings to-morrow, Emmeline. I feel tired and I'm going upstairs."

It was the first time that Phoebe had ever dared to take a stand against Emmeline's orders. Emmeline was too astonished to speak for a minute, but just as Phoebe reached the door she said:

"Well, really! Tired! I was down half an hour before you this mornin', and I'm not tired to speak of, but I suppose ef I was I'd have to keep right on. And who's to do your work to-morrow mornin' while you do this, I'd like to know ? "

But Phoebe had escaped out of hearing, and Emmeline relapsed into vexed silence. Hiram, however, narrowed his cruel little eyes, and thought he understood why she had gone.