A COUNTRY CHEVALIER
It was early in August when Mrs. Wealthy Brooks announced her speedyreturn from Boston to Edgewood.
"It's jest as well Rose is comin' back," said Mr. Wiley to his wife. "Inever favored her goin' to Boston, where that rosy-posy Claude feller is.When he was down here he was kep' kind o' tied up in a boxstall, butthere he's caperin' loose round the pastur'."
"I should think Rose would be ashamed to come back, after the way she'scarried on," remarked Mrs. Wiley, "but if she needed punishment I guessshe's got it bein' comp'ny-keeper to Wealthy Ann Brooks. Bein' a churchmember in good an' reg'lar standin', I s'pose Wealthy Ann'll go toheaven, but I can only say that it would be a sight pleasanter place fora good many if she didn't."
"Rose has be'n foolish an' flirty an' wrong-headed," allowed hergrandfather; "but it won't do no good to treat her like a hardenedcriminile, same's you did afore she went away. She ain't hardly got herwisdom teeth cut, in love affairs! She ain't broke the laws of the Stateo' Maine, nor any o' the ten commandments; she ain't disgraced thefamily, an' there's a chance for her to reform, seein' as how she ain'ttwenty year old yet. I was turrible wild an' hot-headed myself afore youketched me an' tamed me down."
"You ain't so tame now as I wish you was," Mrs. Wiley replied testily.
"If you could smoke a clay pipe 't would calm your nerves, mother, an'help you to git some philosophy inter you; you need a little philosophyturrible bad."
"I need patience consid'able more," was Mrs. Wiley's withering retort.
"That's the way with folks," said Old Kennebec reflectively, as he wenton peacefully puffing. "If you try to indoose 'em to take an int'rest ina bran'-new virtue, they won't look at it; but they'll run down a sidestreet an' buy half a yard more o' some turrible old shopworn trait o'character that they've kep' in stock all their lives, an' thateverybody's sick to death of. There was a man in Gard'ner"--
But alas! the experiences of the Gardiner man, though told in the samedelightful fashion that had won Mrs. Wiley's heart many years before,now fell upon the empty air. In these years of Old Kennebec's"anecdotage," his pipe was his best listener and his truest confidant.
Mr. Wiley's constant intercessions with his wife made Rose's home-comingsomewhat easier, and the sight of her own room and belongings soothedher troubled spirit, but the days went on, and nothing happened tochange the situation. She had lost a lover, that was all, and there wereplenty more to choose from, or there always had been; but the only oneshe wanted was the one who made no sign. She used to think that shecould twist Stephen around her little finger; that she had only tobeckon to him and he would follow her to the ends of the earth. Now fearhad entered her heart. She no longer felt sure, because she no longerfelt worthy, of him, and feeling both uncertainty and unworthiness, herlips were sealed and she was rendered incapable of making any bid forforgiveness.
So the little world of Pleasant River went on, to all outward seeming,as it had ever gone. On one side of the stream a girl's heart waslonging, and pining, and sickening, with hope deferred, and growing,too, with such astonishing rapidity that the very angels marveled! Andon the other, a man's whole vision of life an duty was widening anddeepening under the fructifying influence of his sorrow.
The corn waved high and green in front of the vacant riverside cottage,but Stephen sent no word or message to Rose. He had seen her once, butonly from a distance. She seemed paler and thinner, he thought,--theresult; probably, of her metropolitan gayeties. He heard no rumor of anyengagement, and he wondered if it were possible that her love for ClaudeMerrill had not, after all, been returned in kind. This seemed a wildimpossibility. His mind refused to entertain the supposition that anyman on earth could resist falling in love with Rose, or, having fallenin, that he could ever contrive to climb out. So he worked on at hisfarm harder than ever, and grew soberer and more careworn daily. Rufushad never seemed so near and dear to him as in these weeks when he hadlived under the shadow of threatened blindness. The burning of the barnand the strain upon their slender property brought the brotherstogether shoulder to shoulder.
"If you lose your girl, Steve," said the boy, "and I lose my eyesight,and we both lose the barn, why, it'll be us two against the world, for aspell!"
The "To Let" sign on the little house was an arrant piece of hypocrisy.Nothing but the direst extremity could have caused him to allow an alienstep on that sacred threshold. The plowing up of the flower-beds andplanting of the corn had served a double purpose. It showed the toocurious public the finality of his break with Rose and her absolutefreedom; it also prevented them from suspecting that he still enteredthe place. His visits were not many, but he could not bear to let thedust settle on the furniture that he and Rose had chosen together; andwhenever he locked the door and went back to the River Farm, he thoughtof a verse in the Bible: "Therefore the Lord God sent him forth fromthe Garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was taken."
It was now Friday of the last week in August. The river was full oflogs, thousands upon thousands of them covering the surface of the waterfrom the bridge almost up to the Brier Neighborhood.
The Edgewood drive was late, owing to a long drought and low water; butit was to begin on the following Monday, and Lije Dennett and his underboss were looking over the situation and planning the campaign. As theyleaned over the bridge-rail they saw Mr. Wiley driving down the riverroad. When he caught sight of them he hitched the old white horse at thecorner and walked toward them, filling his pipe the while in his usualleisurely manner.
"We're not busy this forenoon," said Lije Dennett. "S'pose we standright here and let Old Kennebec have his say out for once. We've neverheard the end of one of his stories, an' he's be'n talkin' for twentyyears."
"All right," rejoined his companion, with a broad grin at the idea. "I'mwillin', if you are; but who's goin' to tell our fam'lies the reasonwe've deserted 'em! I bate yer we sha'n't budge till the crack o' doom.The road commissioner'll come along once a year and mend the bridgeunder our feet, but Old Kennebec'll talk straight on till the day o'jedgment."
Mr. Wiley had one of the most enjoyable mornings of his life, and feltthat after half a century of neglect his powers were at last appreciatedby his fellow-citizens.
He proposed numerous strategic movements to be made upon the logs,whereby they would move more swiftly than usual. He described severalsuccessful drives on the Kennebec, when the logs had melted down theriver almost by magic, owing to his generalship; and he paid a tribute,in passing, to the docility of the boss, who on that occasion had nevermoved a single log without asking his advice.
From this topic he proceeded genially to narrate the life-histories ofthe boss, the under boss, and several Indians belonging to thecrew,--histories in which he himself played a gallant and conspicuouspart. The conversation then drifted naturally to the exploits ofriver-drivers in general, and Mr. Wiley narrated the sorts of feats inlog-riding, pickpole-throwing, and the shooting of rapids that he haddone in his youth. These stories were such as had seldom been heard bythe ear of man; and, as they passed into circulation instantaneously, weare probably enjoying some of them to this day.
They were still being told when a Crambry child appeared on the bridge,bearing a note for the old man.
Upon reading it he moved off rapidly in the direction of the store,ejaculating:
"Bless my soul! I clean forgot that saleratus, and mother's settin' atthe kitchen table with the bowl in her lap, waitin' for it! Got soint'rested in your list'nin' I never thought o' the time."
The connubial discussion that followed this breach of discipline beganon the arrival of the saleratus, and lasted through supper; and Rosewent to bed almost immediately afterward for very dullness and apathy.Her life stretched out before her in the most aimless and monotonousfashion. She saw nothing but heartache in the future; and that sherichly deserved it made it none the easier to bear.
Feeling feverish and sleepless, she slipped on her gray Shaker cloak andstole quietly downstairs f
or a breath of air. Her grandfather andgrandmother were talking on the piazza, and good humor seemed to havebeen restored.
"I was over to the tavern to-night," she heard him say, as she sat downat a little distance. "I was over to the tavern to-night, an' a fellerfrom Gorham got to talkin' an' braggin' 'bout what a stock o' goods theykep' in the store over there. 'An',' says I, 'I bate ye dollars todoughnuts that there hain't a darn thing ye can ask for at Bill Pike'sstore at Pleasant River that he can't go down cellar, or up attic, orout in the barn chamber an' git for ye.' Well, sir, he took me up, an' Iborrered the money of Joe Dennett, who held the stakes, an' we wentright over to Bill Pike's with all the boys follerin' on behind. An' theGorham man never let on what he was goin' to ask for till the hull crowdof us got inside the store. Then says he, as p'lite as a basket o'chips, 'Mr. Pike, I'd like to buy a pulpit if you can oblige me withone.'
"Bill scratched his head an' I held my breath. Then says he, 'Pears tome I'd ought to hev a pulpit or two, if I can jest remember where I keep'em. I don't never cal'late to be out o' pulpits, but I'm so plaguedfor room I can't keep 'em in here with the groc'ries. Jim (that's hisnew store boy), you jest take a lantern an' run out in the far corner o'the shed, at the end o' the hickory woodpile, an' see how many pulpitswe've got in stock!' Well, Jim run out, an' when he come back he says,'We've got two, Mr. Pike. Shall I bring one of 'em in?'
"At that the boys all bust out laughin' an' hollerin' an' tauntin' theGorham man, an' he paid up with a good will, I tell ye!"
"I don't approve of bettin'," said Mrs. Wiley grimly, "but I'll try tosanctify the money by usin' it for a new wash-boiler."
"The fact is," explained old Kennebec, somewhat confused, "that the boysmade me spend every cent of it then an' there."
Rose heard her grandmother's caustic reply, and then paid no furtherattention until her keen ear caught the sound of Stephen's name. It wasa part of her unhappiness that since her broken engagement no one wouldever allude to him, and she longed to hear him mentioned, so thatperchance she could get some inkling of his movements.
"AS LONG AS STEPHEN WATERMAN'S ALIVE, ROSE WILEY CAN HAVEHIM"]
"I met Stephen to-night for the first time in a week," said Mr. Wiley."He kind o' keeps out o' my way lately. He's goin' to drive his spaninto Portland tomorrow mornin' and bring Rufus home from the hospitalSunday afternoon. The doctors think they've made a success of their job,but Rufus has got to be bandaged up a spell longer. Stephen is goin' tojoin the drive Monday mornin' at the bridge here, so I'll get the latestnews o' the boy. Land! I'll be turrible glad if he gets out with hiseyesight, if it's only for Steve's sake. He's a turrible good fellow,Steve is! He said something to-night that made me set more store by himthan ever. I told you I hedn't heard an unkind word ag'in' Rose senceshe come home from Boston, an' no more I hev till this evenin: Therewas two or three fellers talkin' in the post-office, an' they didn'tsuspicion I was settin' on the steps outside the screen door. That JimJenkins, that Rose so everlastin'ly snubbed at the tavern dance, spokeup, an' says he: 'This time last year Rose Wiley could 'a' hed thechoice of any man on the river, an' now I bet ye she can't get naryone.'
"Steve was there, jest goin' out the door, with some bags o' coffee an'sugar under his arm.
"'I guess you're mistaken about that,' he says, speakin' up jest likelightnin'; 'so long as Stephen Waterman's alive, Rose Wiley can havehim, for one; and that everybody's welcome to know.'
"He spoke right out, loud an' plain, jest as if he was readin' theDeclaration of Independence. I expected the boys would everlastin'lypoke fun at him, but they never said a word. I guess his eyes flashed,for he come out the screen door, slammin' it after him, and stalked byme as if he was too worked up to notice anything or anybody. I didn'tfoiler him, for his long legs git over the ground too fast for me, butthinks I, 'Mebbe I'll hev some use for my lemonade-set after all.'"
"I hope to the land you will," responded Mrs. Wiley, "for I'm about sicko' movin' it round when I sweep under my bed. And I shall be glad ifRose an' Stephen do make it up, for Wealthy Ann Brooks's gossip is toomuch for a Christian woman to stand."
Rose o' the River Page 13
