XIV
ALL IS CLEAR
"This is my daughter, Judge Ostrander, Reuther, this is the judge."
The introduction took place at the outer gates whither the judge hadgone to receive them.
Reuther threw aside her veil, and looked up into the face bentcourteously towards her. It had no look of Oliver. Somehow she feltglad. She could hardly have restrained herself if he had met her gazewith Oliver's eyes. They were fine eyes notwithstanding, piercing bynature but just now misty with a feeling that took away all her fear. Hewas going to like her; she saw it in every trembling line of hiscountenance, and at the thought a smile rose to her lips which, iffleeting, lent such an ethereal aspect to her beauty that he forgaveOliver then and there for a love which never could be crowned, but whichhenceforth could no longer be regarded by him as despicable.
With a courteous gesture he invited them in, but stopping to lock onegate before leading them through the other, Mrs. Scoville had time toobserve that since her last visit with its accompanying inroad of thepopulace, the two openings which at this point gave access to the walkbetween the fences had been closed up with boards so rude and dingy thatthey must have come from some old lumber pile in attic or cellar.
The judge detected her looking at them.
"I have cut off my nightly promenade," said he. "With youth in thehouse, more cheerful habits must prevail. To-morrow I shall have my lawncut, and if I must walk after sundown I will walk there."
The two women exchanged glances. Perhaps their gloomy anticipations werenot going to be realised.
But once within the house, the judge showed embarrassment. He wasconscious of its unfitness for their fastidious taste and yet he had notknown how to improve matters. In his best days he had concerned himselfvery little with household affairs, and for the last few years he hadnot given a thought to anything outside his own rooms. Bela had doneall--and Bela was pre-eminently a cook, not a general house-servant. Howwould these women regard the disorder and the dust?
"I have few comforts to offer," said he, opening a door at his right andthen hastily closing it again. "This part of the house is, as you see,completely dismantled and not--very clean. But you shall have carteblanche to arrange to your liking one of these rooms for yoursitting-room and parlour. There is furniture in the attic and you maybuy freely whatever else is necessary. I don't want to discourage littleReuther. As for your bedrooms--" He stopped, hemmed a little and flusheda vivid red as he pointed up the dingy flight of uncarpeted stairstowards which he had led them. "They are above; but it is with shame Iadmit that I have not gone above this floor for many years.Consequently, I don't know how it looks up there or whether you can evenfind towels and things. Perhaps you will go up first, Mrs. Scoville. Iwill stay here while you take a look. I really, couldn't have a strangecleaning-woman here, or any one who would make remarks. Have I countedtoo much on your good-nature?"
"No; not at all. In fact, you simply arouse all the housekeepinginstincts within me. I will be down in a minute. Reuther, I leave youwith the judge."
She ran lightly up. The next instant they heard her sneeze, then theycaught the sound of a window rattling up, followed by a streak of lightfalling slant-wise across the dismal stairs.
The judge drew a breath of relief and led Reuther towards a door at theend of the hall.
"This is the way to the dining-room and kitchen," he explained. "I havebeen accustomed to having my meals served in my own room, but after thisI shall join you at table. Here," he continued, leading her up to theiron door, "is the entrance to my den. You may knock here if you wantme, but there is a curtain beyond, which no one lifts but myself. Youunderstand, my dear, and will excuse an old man's eccentricities?"
She smiled, rejoicing only in the caressing voice, and in the yearning,almost fatherly, manner with which he surveyed her.
"I quite understand," said she; "and so will mother."
"Reuther," he now observed with a strange intermixture of gentleness andauthority, "there is one thing I wish to say to you at the very start. Imay grow to love you--God knows that a little affection would be awelcome change in my life--but I want you to know and know now, that allthe love in the world will not change my decision as to the improprietyof a match between you and my son Oliver. That settled, there is noreason why all should not be clear between us."
"All is clear."
Faint and far off the words sounded, though she was standing so near hecould have laid his hand on her shoulder. Then she gave one sob asthough in saying this she heard the last clod fall upon what would neversee resurrection again in this life, and, lifting her head, looked himstraight in the eye with a decision and a sweetness which bowed hisspirit and caused his head in turn to fall upon his breast.
"What a father can do for a child, I will do for you," he murmured, andled her back to her mother, who was now coming down stairs.
A week, and Deborah Scoville had evolved a home out of chaos. That is,within limits. There was one door on that upper story which she hadsimply opened and shut; nor had she entered the judge's rooms, or evenoffered to do so. The ban which had been laid upon her daughter she feltapplied equally to herself; that is for the present. Later, there mustbe a change. So particular a man as the judge would soon find himselftoo uncomfortable to endure the lack of those attentions which he hadbeen used to in Bela's day. He had not even asked for clean sheets, andsometimes she had found herself wondering, with a strange shrinking ofher heart, if his bed was ever made, or whether he had not been drivenat times to lie down in his clothes.
She had some reason for these doubtful conclusions. In her ramblingsthrough the house she had come upon Bela's room. It was in a loft overthe kitchen and she had been much amazed at its condition. In somerespects it looked as decent as she could expect, but in the matter ofbed and bedclothes it presented an aspect somewhat startling. Theclothes were there, tossed in a heap on the floor, but there was no bedin sight nor anything which could have served as such.
IT HAD BEEN DRAGGED OUT. Evidences of this were everywhere; dragged out,and down the narrow, twisted staircase which was the only medium ofcommunication between the lower floor and this loft. As she noted themarks made by its passage down the steps, the unhappy vision rose beforeher of the judge, immaculate in attire and unaccustomed of hand, tuggingat this bed and alternately pushing and pulling it by main strength downthis contracted, many-cornered staircase. A smile, half pitiful, halfself-scornful curved her lips as she remembered the rat-tat-tat she hadheard on that dismal night when she clung listening to the fence, andwondered now if it had not been the bumping of this cot sliding fromstep to step.
But no! the repeated stroke of a hammer is unmistakable. He had playedthe carpenter that night as well as the mover, and with no visibleresults. Mystery still reigned in the house for all the charm and ordershe had brought into it; a mystery which deeply interested her, andwhich she yet hoped to solve, notwithstanding its remoteness from thereal problem of her existence.
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