Crestlands: A Centennial Story of Cane Ridge

by Mary Addams Bayne

  CHAPTER XIV.

  BETSY SAYS "WAIT"

  Rarely ever since that August afternoon when Abner and Betsy had stooda moment in the pathway, gazing into each other's souls, and she hadhurried away from him, could he by any pretext or maneuver succeed inbeing for one moment alone with her. Always when in her presence,either as one of the quiet home circle at her father's house, or atchurch, or at a neighbor's, he was conscious of a change in her mannertowards himself. Much of her old, light-hearted gayety had vanished,and in its stead were a new quietness and reserve, without any trace ofembarrassment, it is true, but with a demure dignity which made herseem to repel even such advances as ordinary gallantry would prompt anyyoung man to make to a pretty girl.

  Dudley tried vainly to win her back to her former attitude of cordialease. Occasionally he noticed a merry chord in her voice and somethingof the old, sparkling playfulness of manner; but if he sought to answerher quips in the same vein of pleasantry, she would color warmly,answer gravely, and then seem to shrink from him. Never could he gether eyes to meet his. Once or twice, in some rare opportunity when hefound himself for a brief moment alone with her, he had tried with themost delicate and insinuating skill to approach the subject of his lovefor her; but at the first hint she, like a fish that sees the linegleaming in the sunlight, would dart away to another topic, or wouldfind some ready excuse for leaving him. Furthermore, the very power ofhis love made him likewise often constrained and ill at ease in herpresence; and as the months dragged on, it seemed to him that not onlywas he making no progress toward winning her, but that he was losingeven her former frank regard. He frequently questioned the reliabilityof the revelation which had come to him that afternoon at the spring;for although it had given him unmistakable knowledge of his ownfeelings, it had, he feared, erred in its interpretation of hers. Norwas the element of jealousy wanting to complete his torment at thisperiod. Betsy was developing into the recognized beauty and belle ofthe county, and not only did the rustic swains of the neighborhoodcourt her favor, but the fashionable beaux from Lexington and Frankfortfound abundant attraction at Oaklands. The one feared most by Abner wasJames Anson Drane, who, besides being well-to-do and of good family,was handsome and gallant and stood very high in Major Gilcrest's goodgraces. In fact, it seemed to Dudley in his moments of deepestdespondency that Drane had everything in his favor, while he himselfhad nothing to plead in his own behalf save the might of his love, andthat between two such suitors as Drane and himself no girl wouldhesitate to choose the former.

  Under the sway of these feelings, Abner's first instinctive dislike ofDrane, which had been lulled to sleep by the young lawyer's courteousbearing, awoke into more than its former vigor. At times theschoolmaster felt ready to believe anything of James Anson Drane--hewas a schemer, a traitor, and was doubtless even now plotting againstthe Government. He would marry Betty, of course, and would wreck herhappiness, and bring financial ruin and political disgrace upon theGilcrests. Nevertheless, although Betsy's reserve, his own lack ofopportunity for wooing her, and his jealous distrust of Drane, madeAbner alternately chafe and despond, yet through all these moods thereran the fiber of a proud, buoyant spirit which would not allow him togive up; and hope, though for a time baffled, retreated only to advanceagain with new courage.

  While returning from Bourbonton one May afternoon, Abner, lured by thebeauty of the day, turned from the public road, and chose instead asequestered bridle-path which, with many a devious turn and twist,wound through the forest whose giant trees, though centuries old, werenow again clothed upon with youthful freshness and beauty. Through thisgreen canopy of arching boughs, where sunshine and shadow intermingled,one caught glimpses of the sky, a dome of azure velvet flecked withfleecy white. A soft wind blew from the south, laden with the faint,elusive fragrance of anemone and violet. From every bush and treetopcame the light-hearted carol of linnet and thrush and redbird; and inthe open spaces between the trees the sportive sunlight gleamed andsmiled so joyously that every blade of soft, green grass seemed toquiver with gladness. The day was so golden, so filled with the tenderhope and promise of the Maytime, that Abner, yielding to its charm, forthe moment forgot his doubts and perplexities. His path led in thedirection of a shallow creek; and as he drew near the stream, he spiedupon its bank a girl who had stopped to let her horse drink. It wasBetty on old Selim. Abner gently checked his mare and sat watching her.Her white scoop-bonnet was hanging from the pommel of the saddle, thebridle-reins drooped carelessly upon old Selim's neck, and her hands,encased in white linen "half hands," were crossed in her lap. She waslooking out across the country with a far-away, dreamy expression. Herlover noticed every detail of her beauty--the regal poise of head, thelovely outline of throat and shoulders, the rosy oval of face, thepiquant cleft of the chin, the arch curve of the upper lip, and theripe fullness of the lower. Presently her horse, more awake to outsideinfluences than was his mistress, caught the sound of a breaking twig,and, raising his nose from the water, pricked up his ears and neighed.

  "Old Selim spied me first," said Abner, riding to Betty's side.

  She looked up for an instant, then her eyes fell before a scrutinywhose blending of admiration and passionate feeling she could not failto understand.

  "Yes," she answered lightly, laughing and striving to regainself-possession, "Selim is glad to see you, I know; he is gettingimpatient for his supper, and there's no knowing how long I might havesat here day-dreaming, had you not appeared. Shall we ride on?"

  "And is not Selim's mistress glad to see me, too?" asked Abner, as herode by her side.

  "Oh, of course," was the reply; "but it is getting late, and we hadbetter hasten on."

  After riding a few moments in silence, he said, laying a detaining handon her bridle: "Betty, why do you avoid me so persistently, and why areyou so reserved with me? Is it because, knowing that you are becomingall the world to me, you would by avoidance and reserve spare me thepain of refusing my love? It is now nearly ten months since I firstbegan to realize what you are to me, and that knowledge has becomeeverything."

  "No! no! do not speak! Please, please do not!" she remonstrated, herface flushing and then paling.

  "Why will you not let me speak?" he continued gently.

  "Oh, not--not now," she murmured stammeringly. "I--I--I could not bearit. I can not listen--yet," she ended, her eyes filling with tears.

  Her manner, though it had something of a proud reserve, was not whollyunrelenting. In her voice there was a winning cadence which seemed tobid him hope. He understood her at once. She did not want to silencehim entirely, but it was too soon--that was what she meant--too soonafter his feeling for her cousin. She owed it to her own womanlydignity that his love should be put to the proof of time. She must notbe too easily won. Yes, Abner felt that he understood her. Instantlythe look of deprecating humility vanished from the young man's face,and in its stead there flashed into his eyes an eager, courageouslight; for renewed hope was sending the warm blood leaping and dancingthrough his veins; and the humble, dejected suppliant of the momentbefore was transformed into the hopeful, assured lover.

  For a time he said nothing, but, with his hand still upon her bridle,they rode on silently through the twilight of the forest aisle, whereall was so still and peaceful that their fast heart-throbs seemedalmost audible. Pledges more definite and binding might afterwards beexchanged, yet in the hearts of these two lovers this solemn temple ofnature was forever consecrated as the place of plighting.

  "I will wait, Betty," he said presently; "but do not keep me too longin suspense. Remember how long I have already waited for you. When mayI speak?"

  "Oh, I--I don't know--not for a long time yet." Then, regaining herold, saucy air, and flashing into his eyes one glance, half tender,half defiant, she snatched her bridle-rein from his hand, and, with aflick of the switch across her horse's neck, rode on. As she gallopedoff, she looked back for an instant to say archly, "Spring is verybeautiful; but I like autumn better, and November is my favo
rite month,for Thanksgiving Day comes then. No! no! do not follow me, sir," sheadded saucily, as he rode quickly towards her. "Your road lies straighton," pointing with her switch to where the roads forked. "Mine leadsdown this lane to Oaklands."

  "Very well," he answered with grave sweetness, "I will leave you now,but I shall remember what you have said, and hope that my ownthanksgiving day may, in truth, come next November--though it is aweary while to wait."