A Day of Fate Part 11

"So after all your fate is in my hands."

"It is. You have pre-empted this claim."

"Suppose I am a little non-committal, and should say, You may spend the evening, you may stay till to-morrow; would you be content?"

"No, indeed, but I would have to submit."

"Well, this is rich. Who ever heard of an editor--and the shrewd, alert, night editor at that--in such a dilemma! Do you realize what an unwise step you have taken? Mr. Yocomb justly complimented your shrewdness in getting Mrs. Yocomb on your side, and having won her over you were safe, and might have remained in this Eden as long as you chose. Now you place it within the power--the caprice even--of an utter stranger to send you out into the wilderness again."

I said, with a smile, "I am satisfied that you differ from your mother Eve in one respect."

"Ah! in what respect?"

"You are not the kind of woman that causes banishment from Eden."

"You know very little about me, Mr. Morton."

"I know that."

She smiled and looked pleased in spite of herself.

"I think I'll let you stay till--till to-morrow," she said, with an arch side glance; then added, with a laugh, "What nonsense we are talking! As if you had not as good a right to be here as I have."

"I beg your pardon. I spoke in downright sincerity. You found this quiet place first. In a large hotel, all kinds of people can meet almost as they do on Broadway; but here we must dwell together as one family, and I feel that I have no right to force on you any a.s.sociation without your leave, especially as you are here alone. In a certain sense I introduce myself, and compel you to meet me socially without your permission. You may have formed a very different plan for your summer's rest."

"It is rather rare for a music-teacher to receive so much consideration. It bewilders me a little."

"Pardon me. I soon discovered that you possessed woman's highest rank."

"Indeed! Am I a princess in disguise?"

"You are more than many princesses have been--a lady. And, as I said before, you are here alone."

She turned and looked at me intently, and I felt that if I had not been sincere she would have known it. It was a peculiar and, I eventually learned, a characteristic act. I am now inclined to think that she saw the precise att.i.tude of my mind and feeling toward her; but my awakening interest was as far removed from curiosity as is our natural desire to have a melody completed, the opening strains of which are captivating.

Her face quickly lost its aspect of grave scrutiny, and she looked away, with a slight accession of color.

"Do you want to stay very much?" she asked.

"Miss Warren," I exclaimed, and my expression must have been eager and glad, "you looked at me then as you would at a doubtful stranger, and your glance was searching. You looked as only a woman can--as one who would see her way rather than reason it out. Now tell me in sincerity what you saw."

"You know from my manner what I saw," she said, smiling and blus.h.i.+ng slightly.

"No, I only hoped; I have not a woman's eyesight."

She bit her lip, contracted her wide, low brow for a moment, then turned and said frankly:

"I did not mean to be rude in my rather direct glance. Even though a music-teacher, I have had compliments before, and I have usually found them as empty and insincere as the people who employed them. I am somewhat alone in the world, Mr. Morton, and I belong to that cla.s.s of timid and rather helpless creatures whose safety lies in their readiness to run to cover. I have found truth the best cover for me, situated as I am. I aim to be just what I seem--neither more nor less; and I am very much afraid of people who do not speak the truth, especially when they are disposed to say nice things."

"And you saw?"

"I saw that bad as you are, I could trust you," she said, laughing; "a fact that I was glad to learn since you are so bent on forcing your society upon us all for a time."

"Thank Heaven!" I exclaimed, "I thought yesterday that I was a bankrupt, but I must have a little of the man left in me to have pa.s.sed this ordeal. Had I seen distrust in your eyes and consequent reserve in your manner, I should have been sorely wounded."

"No," she replied, shaking her head, "when a man's character is such as to excite distrust, he could not be so sorely wounded as you suggest."

"I'm not sure of that," I said. "I think a man may know himself to be weak and wicked, and yet suffer greatly from such consciousness."

"Why should he weakly suffer? Why not simply do right? I can endure a certain amount of honest wickedness, but there is a phase of moral weakness that I detest," and for a moment her face wore an aspect that would have made any one wronging her tremble, for it was pure, strong, and almost severe.

"I do believe," I said, "that men are more merciful to the foibles of humanity than women." "You are more tolerant, perhaps. Ah! there's Dapple," and she ran to meet the spirited horse that was coming from the farmyard. Reuben, driving, sat confidently in his light open wagon, and his face indicated that he and the beautiful animal he could scarcely restrain shared equally in their enjoyment of young, healthful life. I was alarmed to see Miss Warren run forward, since at the moment Dapple was pawing the air. A second later she was patting his arched neck and rubbing her cheek against his nose. He looked as if he liked it. Well he might.

"Oh, Reuben," she cried, "I envy you. I haven't seen a horse in town that could compare with Dapple."

The young fellow was fairly radiant as he drove away.

She looked after him wistfully, and drew a long sigh.

"Ah!" she said, "they do me good after my city life. There's life for you, Mr. Morton--full, overflowing, innocent life--in the boy and in the horse. Existence, motion, is to them happiness. It seems a pity that both must grow old and weary! My hand fairly tingles yet from my touch of Dapple's neck, he was so alive with spirit. What is it that animates that great ma.s.s of flesh and blood, bone and sinew, making him so strong, yet so gentle. At a blow he would have dashed everything to pieces, but he is as sensitive to kindness as I am. I sometimes half think that Dapple has as good a right to a soul as I have. Perhaps you are inclined toward Turkish philosophy, and think so too."

"I should be well content to go to the same heaven that receives you and Dapple. You are very fearless, Miss Warren, thus to approach a rearing horse."

Her answer was a slight scream, and she caught my arm as if for protection. At the moment I spoke a sudden turning in the lane brought us face to face with a large matronly cow that was quietly ruminating and switching away the flies. She turned upon us her large, mild, "Juno-like" eyes, in which one might imagine a faint expression of surprise, but nothing more.

My companion was trembling, and she said hurriedly:

"Please let us turn back, or go some other way."

"Why, Miss Warren," I exclaimed, "what is the matter?"

"That dreadful cow! Cows are my terror."

I laughed outright as I said, "Now is the time for me to display courage, and prove than an editor can be the knight-errant of the age.

Upon my soul, Miss Warren, I shall protect you whatever horn of this dilemma I may be impaled upon." Then advancing resolutely toward the cow, I added, "Madam, by your leave, we must pa.s.s this way."

At my approach the "dreadful cow" turned and ran down the lane to the pasture field, in a gait peculiarly feminine.

"Now you know what it is to have a protector," I said, returning.

"I'm glad you're not afraid of cows," she replied complacently. "I shall never get over it. They are my terror."

"There is one other beast," I said, "that I am sure would inspire you with equal dread."

"I know you are going to say a mouse. Well, it may seem very silly to you, but I can't help it. I'm glad I wasn't afraid of Dapple, for you now can think me a coward only in streaks."

"It does appear to me irresistibly funny that you, who, alone and single-handed, have mastered this great world so that it is under your foot, should have quailed before that inoffensive cow, which is harmless as the milk she gives."

"A woman, Mr. Morton, is the mystery of mysteries--the one problem of the world that will never be solved. We even do not understand ourselves."