King Spruce, A Novel, Page 3

  CHAPTER II

  THE HEIRESS OF "OAKLANDS"

  "Pete Lebree had money and land, Paul of Olamon had none, Only his peavy and driving pole, his birch canoe and his gun. But to Paul Nicola, lithe and tall, son of a Tarratine, Had gone the heart of the governor's child, Molly the island's queen."

  --_Old Town Ballads._

  The coachman usually drove into town from the "Oaklands" to bring JohnBarrett home from his office, for Barrett liked the spirited rush of hisblooded horses.

  But when his daughter occasionally anticipated the coachman, he resignedhimself to a ride in her phaeton with only a sleepy pony to draw them.

  Once more absorbed in his affairs, after the departure of Pulaski Britt,Barrett had forgotten the unpleasant morsel of gossip that Britt hadbrought to spice his interview.

  But a familiar trilling call that came up to him stirred that unpleasantthing in his mind. When Barrett walked to the window and signalled toher that he had heard and would come, his expression was not exactlythat of the fond father who welcomes his only child. It was not theexpression that the bright face peering from under the phaeton's parasolinvited. And as he wore his look of uneasiness and discontent when hetook his seat beside her, her face became grave also.

  "Is it the business or the politics, father?" she asked, solicitously."I'm jealous of both if they take away the smiles and bring the tiredlines. If it's business, let's make believe we've got money enough.Haven't we--for only us two? If it's politics--well, when I'm agovernor's daughter I'll be only an unhappy slave to the women, and youa servant of the men."

  But he did not respond to her rallying.

  "I can't get away from work this summer, Elva," he said, with somethingof the curtness of his business tone. "I mean I can't get away to gowith you."

  "But I don't want you to go anywhere, father," protested the girl.

  She was so earnest that he glanced sidewise at her. His air was that ofone who is trying a subtle test.

  "I feel that I must go north for a visit to my timber lands," he wenton; "I have not been over them for years. I've had pretty good proofthat I am being robbed by men I trusted. I propose to go up there andmake a few wholesome examples."

  He was accustomed to talk his business affairs with her. She alwaysreceived them with a grave understanding that pleased him. Her dark eyesnow met him frankly and interestedly. Looking at her as he did, with hisstrange thrill of suspicion that another man wanted her and that sheloved the man, he saw that his daughter was beautiful, with thebrilliancy of type that transcends prettiness. He realized that she hadthe wit and spirit which make beauty potent, and her eyes and bearingshowed poise and self-reliance. Such was John Barrett's appraisal, andJohn Barrett's business was to appraise humankind. But perhaps he didnot fully realize that she was a woman with a woman's heart.

  The pony was ambling along lazily under the elms, and the reflectivelord of lands was silent awhile, glancing at his daughter occasionallyfrom the corner of his eye. He noted, with fresh interest, that she hadgreeting for all she met--as gracious a word for the tattered man fromthe mill as for the youth who slowed his automobile to speak to her.

  "These gossips have misunderstood her graciousness," he mused, thethought giving him comfort.

  But he was still grimly intent upon his trial of her.

  "Because I cannot go with you, and because I shall be away in the woods,Elva," he said, after a time, "I am going to send you to the shore withthe Dustins."

  There was sudden fire in her dark eyes.

  "I do not care to go anywhere with the Dustins," she said, withdecision. "I do not care to go anywhere at all this summer. Father!"There was a volume of protest in the intonation of the word. She had thebluntness of his business air when she was aroused. "I would be blindand a fool not to understand why you are so determined to throw me inwith the Dustins. You want me to marry that bland and blessed son andheir. But I'll not do any such thing."

  "You are jumping at conclusions, Elva," he returned, feeling that hehimself had suddenly become the hunted.

  "I've got enough of your wit, father, to know what's in a barrel whenthere's a knot-hole for me to peep through."

  "Now that you have brought up the subject, what reason is there for yournot wanting to marry Weston Dustin? He's--"

  "I know all about him," she interrupted. "There is no earthly need foryou and me to get into a snarl of words about him, dadah! He isn't theman I want for a husband; and when John Barrett's only daughter tellshim that with all her heart and soul, I don't believe John Barrett isgoing to argue the question or ask for further reasons or give anyorders."

  He bridled in turn.

  "But I'm going to tell you, for my part, that I want you to marry WestonDustin! It has been my wish for a long time, though I have not wanted tohurry you."

  She urged on the pony, as though anxious to end a _tete-a-tete_ that wasbecoming embarrassing.

  "It might be well to save our discussion of Mr. Dustin until thatimpetuous suitor has shown that he wants to marry me," she remarked,with a little acid in her tone.

  "He has come to me like a gentleman, told me what he wants, and asked mypermission," stated Mr. Barrett.

  "Following a strictly business rule characteristic of Mr. Dustin--'Willyou marry your timber lands to my saw-mill, Mr. John Barrett, onedaughter thrown in?'"

  "At least he didn't come sneaking around by the back door!" cried herfather, jarred out of his earlier determination to probe the mattercraftily.

  "Intimating thereby that I have an affair of the heart with the icemanor the grocery boy?" she inquired, tartly.

  She was looking full at him now with all the Barrett resolutenessshining in her eyes. And he, with only the vague and maliciouspromptings of Pulaski Britt for his credentials, had not the courage tomake the charge that was on his tongue, for his heart rejected it nowthat he was looking into her face.

  "In the old times stern parents married off daughters as they woulddispose of farm stock," she said, whipping her pony with a littleunnecessary vigor. "But I had never learned that the custom had obtainedin the Barrett family. Therefore, father, we will talk about somethingmore profitable than Mr. Dustin."

  Outside the city, in the valley where the road curved to enter the gatesof "Oaklands," they met Dwight Wade returning, chastened byself-communion.

  Barrett did not look at the young man. He kept his eyes on hisdaughter's face as she returned Wade's bow. He saw what he feared. Thefires of indignation quickly left the dark eyes. There was the softnessof a caress in her gaze. Love displayed his crimson flag on her cheeks.She spoke in answer to Wade's salutation, and even cast one shy lookafter him when he had passed. When she took her eyes from him she foundher father's hard gaze fronting her.

  "Do you know that fellow?" he demanded, brusquely.

  "Yes," she said, her composure not yet regained; "when he was a studentat Burton and I was at the academy I met him often at receptions."

  "What is that academy, a sort of matrimonial bureau?" His tone wasrough.

  "It is not a nunnery," she retorted, with spirit. "The ordinary rules ofsociety govern there as they do here in Stillwater."

  "Elva," he said, emotion in his tones, "since your mother died you havebeen mistress of the house and of your own actions, mostly. Has thatfellow there been calling on you?"

  "He has called on me, certainly. Many of my school friends have called.Since he has been principal of the high-school I have invited him to'Oaklands.'"

  "You needn't invite him again. I do not want him to call on you."

  "For what reason, father?" She was looking straight ahead now, and hervoice was even with the evenness of contemplated rebellion.

  "As your father, I am not obliged to give reasons for all my commands."

  "You are obliged to give me a reason when you deny a young gentleman ofgood standing in this city our house. An unreasonable order like thatreflects on my character or my judgment. I am the mistr
ess of our home,as well as your daughter."

  "It's making gossip," he floundered, dimly feeling the unwisdom ofquoting Pulaski Britt.

  "Who is gossiping, and what is the gossip?" she insisted.

  "I don't care to go into the matter," he declared, desperately. "If theyoung man is nothing to you except an acquaintance, and I have reasonsof my own for not wanting him to call at my house, I expect you to do asI say, seeing that his exclusion will not mean any sacrifice for you."

  He was dealing craftily. She knew it, and resented it.

  "I do not propose to sacrifice any of my friends for a whim, father. Ifyour reasons have anything to do with my personal side of this matter, Imust have them. If they are purely your own and do not concern me, Imust consider them your whim, unless you convince me to the contrary,and I shall not be governed in my choice of friends. That may soundrebellious, but a father should not provoke a daughter to rebellion. Youought to know me too well for that."

  They were at the house, and he threw himself out of the phaeton andtramped in without reply. During their supper he preserved a resentfulsilence, and at the end went up-stairs to his den to think over thewhole matter. It had suddenly assumed a seriousness that puzzled andfrightened him. He had been routed in the first encounter. He resolvedto make sure of his ground and his facts--and win.

  Usually he did not notice who came or who went at his house. The stillwaters of his confidence in his daughter had never been troubled untilthe Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had breathed upon them.

  This evening, when he heard a caller announced, he tiptoed to the headof the stairs and listened.

  It was Dwight Wade, and at sight of him his pride took alarm, his angerflared. After the afternoon's exasperating talk, this seemed like openand insulting contempt for his authority. It was as though the man wereplotting with a disobedient daughter to flout him as a father. Hispurpose of calm thought was swept away by an unreasoning wrath.Muttering venomous oaths, he stamped down the stairs, whose carpet madehis approach stealthy, though he did not intend it, and he came upon thetwo as Wade, his great love spurred by the day's opposition, despondentin the present, fearing for the future, reached out his longing arms andtook her to his heart.

  They faced him as he stood and glowered upon them, a pathetic pair,clinging to each other.

  "You sneaking thief!" roared Barrett.

  The girl did not draw away. Wade felt her trembling hands seeking his,and he pressed them and kept her in the circle of his arm.

  "I don't care to advertise this," Barrett went on, choking with hisrage, "but there's just one way to treat you, you thief, and that's tohave you kicked out of the house. Elva, up-stairs with you!"

  She gently put away her lover's arm, but she remained beside him, strongin her woman's courage.

  "I have always been proud of my father as a gentleman," she said. "Ithurts my faith to have you say such things under your own roof."

  "That pup has come under my roof to steal," raged the millionaire, "andhe's got to take the consequences. Don't you read me my duty, girl!"

  Even Barrett in his wrath had to acknowledge that simple manliness haspotency against pride of wealth. Wade took two steps towards him, theinstinctive movement of the male that protects his mate.

  "Mr. Barrett," he said, gravely, "give me credit for honest intentions.If it is a fault to love your daughter with all my heart and soul, Ihave committed that fault. For me it's a privilege--an honor that youcan't prevent."

  "What! I can't regulate my own daughter's marriage, you young hound?"

  "You misunderstand me, Mr. Barrett. You cannot prevent me from lovingher, even though I may never see nor speak to her again."

  And Elva, blushing, tremulous, yet determined, looked straight in herfather's eyes, saying, "And I love him."

  Barrett realized that his anger was making a sorry figure compared withthis young man's resolute calmness. With an effort he held himself incheck.

  "We won't argue the love side of this thing," he said, grimly. "Ihaven't any notion of doing that with a nineteen-year-old girl and apauper. But I want to inform you, young man, that the marriage of JohnBarrett's only child and heir is a matter for my judgment to control.I'm taking it for granted that you are not sneak enough to run away withher, even if you have stolen her affections."

  The millionaire understood his man. He had calculated the effect of thesneer. He knew how New England pride may be spurred to conquer passion.

  "These are wicked insults, sir," said the young man, his face rigid andpale, "but I don't deserve them."

  "I tell you here before my daughter that I have plans for her futurethat you shall not interfere with. This is no country school-ma'am, downon your plane of life--this is Elva Barrett, of 'Oaklands,' a girl whohas temporarily lost her good sense, but who is nevertheless my daughterand my heiress. She will remember that in a little while. Take yourselfout of the way, young man!"

  The girl's eyes blazed. Her face was transfigured with grief and love.She was about to speak, but Wade hastened to her and took her hand.

  "Good-night, Elva."

  She understood him. His eyes and the quiver in his voice spoke to herheart. She clung to his hands when he would have withdrawn them. Thelook she gave her father checked that gentleman's contemptuousmutterings.

  "I am ashamed of my father, Mr. Wade," she said, passionately. "I offeryou the apologies of our home."

  "Say, look here!" snarled Barrett, this scornful rebelliousness puttinghis wits to flight, "if that's the way you feel about me, put on yourhat and go with him. I'll be d--d if I don't mean it! Go and starve."

  He realized the folly of his outburst as he returned their gaze. But hepersisted in his puerile attack.

  "Oh, you don't want her that way, do you?" he sneered. "You want her tobring the dollars that go along with her!"

  Then Wade forgot himself.

  He wrested one hand from the gentle clasp that entreated him, and wouldhave struck the mouth that uttered the wretched insult. The girlprevented an act that would have been an enormity. She caught his wrist,and when his arm relaxed he did not dare, at first, to look at her. Thenhe gave her one quick stare of horror and looked at his hand, dazed andashamed.

  Barrett, strangely enough, was jarred back to equanimity by the threatof that blow. He folded his arms, drew himself up, and stood there, theoutraged master of the mansion restored to command, silent, cold, rigid,his whole attitude of indignant reproach more effective than all thecurses in Satan's lexicon.

  Talk could not help that distressing situation. The young man's whitelips tried to frame the words "I apologize," but even in his anguish thegrim humor of this reciprocation of apology rose before his dizzyconsciousness.

  "Good-night!" he gasped.

  Then he left her and went into the hall, John Barrett close on hisheels. The millionaire watched him take his hat, followed him out uponthe broad porch, and halted him at the edge of the steps.

  "Mr. Wade," he said, "you'd rather resign your position than be kickedout, I presume?"

  "You mean that it is your wish that I should go away from Stillwater?"

  "That is exactly what I mean. You resign, or I will have yourresignation demanded by the school board."

  "I think my school relations are entirely my own business," retorted theyoung man, fighting back his mounting wrath.

  "I'll make it mine, and have you kicked out of this town like a cur."

  Wade remembered at that instant the face of the man whom he had seenleave John Barrett's office that morning. He recollected his words--"I'drelish bein' the man that mistook him for a bear!" He knew now how thatman felt. And feeling the lust of killing rise in his own soul for thefirst time, he clinched his fists, set his teeth, and strode away intothe night.