Miss Dexie Part 37

A few moments of awful silence followed the reading of this inscription, then curses both loud and deep were heard in the room. With a bound he was out of bed, and opening the door he flung his tombstone over the bal.u.s.ter to the bottom of the stairs, with a crash that startled the family from their seats as if a thunderbolt had shaken the house.

Dexie disappeared instantly, knowing what the noise meant, but feeling thankful that there was no one near the stairs when the crash came, or she would have had to seriously repent her joke. As it was, the stairs were dinged and marred, and the fragments of the tombstone were strewn over the hall.

It did not take Plaisted long to dress that morning, and he soon appeared before the a.s.sembled family, his brow dark and his eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

"Who did that?" he demanded as he made his appearance.

"That is just what we have been trying to find out," replied Mr. Sherwood, who thought he was referring to the noise.

"I mean, who put that stone in my room?"

"What stone? I hardly think you are awake yet, Plaisted," and he regarded him severely. "Do you know what time it is?"

Plaisted glanced at the clock, and his angry feelings were swallowed up in the feeling of shame that spread a flush over his face.

"Heavens! I never thought it was so late as that! So we have lost the train again by my carelessness. Too bad, Sherwood. But that joke was no light one. Did you put up that stone?"

"What stone? I don't understand," replied Sherwood, angrily.

Plaisted turned back into the hall, and gathered up the pieces he had flung down in his anger, then piecing it together on the table pointed to the inscription.

A roar of laughter came from Mr. Sherwood's throat, as he took in the joke.

Dexie, hearing the laughter and knowing its cause, came boldly into the room, ready enough to confess her share of it, now that she knew her father would not scold very much about it.

"Dexie, did you do that?" he asked, as she appeared. "That writing looks very familiar."

"Well, I wrote the inscription," her face never changing expression, "but I hired another person to set the stone up. Has there been a miracle that you have come to life again?" she added, turning to Plaisted.

"Well, I'll have to own that you have got the best of me this time, Miss Dexie; but I'll pay you for that tombstone yet, see if I don't," and he seated himself to his late breakfast.

There was no need to set up a monument to Plaisted's memory the next morning, as he was down before the breakfast bell rang, and as Mr.

Sherwood kept him confined to the business they had before them, he found no time to pay Dexie back for the trick she had played him.

During the day something occurred that referred to business matters in Prince Edward Island; and becoming annoyed at Plaisted's equivocal answers, Mr. Sherwood took the copy of the letter Dexie had brought home with her, and laid it before his eyes. Plaisted read it with a puzzled brow and shamefaced cheeks.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, in embarra.s.sment.

"No matter; but can you deny it is yours?"

"By thunder! I guess I can! that is not my handwriting," he replied, trying to bluff it off.

"No, the handwriting is not yours, I know. But dare you say that that is not an exact copy of a letter that was written by your hand?"

"Well, you have me there, Sherwood, so I may as well own up. I was going to do a bit of shrewd business for myself, but someone seems to have got ahead of me. Now I look at this writing, it is singularly like the writing on my tombstone," he added, as he studied the letter before him; "but, of course, it isn't possible."

Receiving no answer, he looked up at Mr. Sherwood and seemed to read the truth in his face.

"You don't mean to say that my conjecture is right?"

"Yes, Dexie's thoughtfulness and quick perception have saved me a good thousand. Your doings on Prince Edward Island were made known to her in a singular manner, and she was sharp enough to see the advantage that an exact copy of your letter would be to me; and as your letter was placed in her hands quite unexpectedly, she copied it. You and I must part. I'll have no schemer like you for a partner any longer. I'll not have my name mixed up with such doubtful dealings."

High words followed, but as Mr. Sherwood had the upper hand, Plaisted was obliged to submit to his decision, and he soon left the room to collect his belongings, having received a peremptory dismissal.

"There is one satisfaction that I wish you would grant me, Sherwood," he said, turning as he reached the door, "Tell me how your daughter chanced upon that letter." "No, that you need not know; but it was by the merest accident, and was as great a surprise to her as it has been to me. But she was sharp enough to see how important her information was, and knew that a copy of your letter was the best guarantee she could bring me of your craftiness."

"Sharp! yes, that is just the word for her. She is like a bunch of nettles, stinging you if you but touch her. She has contrived to give me an unpleasant memory of her every time I have been here. And so it is to her I owe this break in our business intercourse;" and with flushed face and flas.h.i.+ng eyes he left the room, and before night he was journeying toward the "land of the free," a sadder, and, let us hope, a wiser man.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

"Hope long deferred maketh the heart sick," and Hugh became dull and morose; the happiness he hoped for seemed as far off as ever, and the continued disappointment was making his life bitter. Mrs. Gurney saw the change, and tried to persuade Hugh to go abroad. This he longed to do, but waited; he might yet go abroad with Dexie as his travelling companion. He would not take the message sent him as final; surely if he could see her alone, face to face, he would compel her to give her reasons for refusing him, and he might explain away her objections.

But Dexie considered the matter settled, and feeling herself free she thought it right to drop her stiff, reserved manner, and be once more friendly. This change made Hugh think that there was still hope for him, and he determined to take a lover's privilege, and press his suit face to face.

With this end in view, he called on the Sherwoods one afternoon, and finding Mr. Sherwood alone, he asked permission to take Dexie out for a sail, adding that there seemed no other way of seeing her alone.

"I doubt if she will go with you, Mr. McNeil," said Mr. Sherwood. "Why not let the matter rest as it is? I don't think you are making much headway; better not press it any further."

"She has not given me fair play," was the reply. "If I am to be refused, why must I take it from another's lips? Give me the chance to open my heart to her, and I will be satisfied."

"Well, Mr. McNeil, I wish you well; but she must choose as she likes. What is the water like to-day?"

"Smooth as a mill-pond; scarcely a ripple," was the reply, as he followed Mr. Sherwood into the next room.

"I have called to see if you will go for a sail, Miss Dexie," said Mr.

McNeil, as he entered the room and seated himself beside her. "You have not been on the water for some time; it is a pity to miss this fine afternoon."

Gussie knew very well that she was not included in the invitation; but she had no intention of being left out, so she eagerly answered:

"Oh, yes, of course we will go; it will be lovely and cool on the water this hot afternoon."

Hugh knew it would be useless to hint that it was Dexie alone he wanted, but he meant to get rid of her society somehow.

"You have not said if you would go, Dexie," said Hugh, looking intently into her face.

"Oh, yes! certainly. I shall be delighted to go, if Gussie thinks she will not get sick."

"I don't think Gussie was included in the invitation," said Mr. Sherwood, looking up from his paper as he became aware of the situation.

"But of course it was understood; I would not go without her," said Dexie.

"What time shall we be ready?"

"I will call in half an hour," and Hugh left the room with his heavy brow drawn into a decided frown.

During the walk to the wharf Hugh was so silent that Gussie began to banter him on his gloomy countenance.