Phoebe Deane (2 page)

Phoebe slid off the fence and backed away in the darkness. She knew the location of every apple-tree and could have led him a chase through their labyrinths if she had chosen. Her heart froze within her for fear of what might be coming, and she felt she must not run away, but stay and face it whatever it was.

" What do you mean ? " asked Phoebe, her voice full of antagonism.

"Mean?" said Hiram, sidling after her. "I mean it's time we set up a partnership. I've waited long enough. I need somebody to look after the children. You suit me pretty well, and I guess you'd be well enough fixed with me."

Hiram's air of assurance made Phoebe's heart chill with fear. For a moment she was speechless with horror and indignation.

Taking her silence as a favorable indication Hiram drew near her and once more tried to find her hands in the darkness.

' "I've always liked you, Phoebe," he said, insinuatingly. "Don't you like me?"

" No, No, No!" almost screamed Phoebe, snatching her hands away. " Don't ever dare to think of such a thing again!"

Then she turned and vanished in the dark like a wraith of mist, leaving the crestfallen Hiram alone, feeling very foolish and not a little astonished. He had not expected his suit to be met quite in this way.

" Phoebe, is that you ? " called Emmeline's metallic voice, as she lifted her sharp eyes to peer into the darkness of the entry. " Albert, I wonder if Hiram went the wrong way and missed her ? "

But Phoebe, keen of instinct, light of foot, drifted like a breath past the door, and was up in her room before Emmeline decided whether she had heard anything or not, and Albert went on reading his paper.

Phoebe sat alone in her little kitchen chamber, with the button on the door fastened, and faced the situation, looking out into the night. She kept very still that Emmeline might not know she was there. She almost held her breath for a time, for it seemed as if Hiram had so much assurance that he almost had the power to draw her from her room against her will. Her indignation and fear were beyond all possible need of the occasion. Yet every time she thought of the hateful sound of his voice as he made his cold-blooded proposition, the fierce anger boiled within her, so that she wished over and over again that she might have another opportunity to answer him and make her refusal more emphatic. Yet, when she thought of it, what could she say more than " No " ? Great waves of hate surged through her soul for the man who had treated one woman so that she was glad to die, and now wanted to take her life and crush it out. With the intensity of a very young girl she took up the cause of the dead Annie, and felt like fighting for her memory.

By and by she heard Albert and Emmeline shutting up the house for the night. Hiram did not come back as she feared he might.

He half started to come, then thought better of it, and felt his way through the orchard to the other fence and climbed lumberingly over it into the road. His self-love had been wounded and he did not care to appear before his neighbors to-night. Moreover, he felt a little dazed and wanted to think things over and adjust himself to Phoebe's point of view. He felt a half resentment toward the Deanes for Phoebe's action, as if the rebuff she had given him had been their fault somehow. They should have prepared her better. They understood the situation fully. There had often been an interchange of remarks between them on the subject and Albert had responded by a nod and wink. It was tacitly understood that it would be a good thing to have the farms join, and keep them " all in the family." Emmeline, too, had often given some practical hints about Phoebe's capabilities as a housewife and mother to his wild little children. It was Emmeline who had given the hint to-night as to Phoebe's hiding-place. He began to feel as if Emmeline had somehow tricked him. He resolved to stay away from the Deanes for a long time—perhaps a week, or at any rate two or three days—certainly one day, at least. Then he began to wonder if perhaps after all Phoebe was not just flirting with him. Surely she could not refuse him in earnest. His farm was as pretty as any in the county, and every one knew he had money in the bank. Surely, Phoebe was only being coy for a time. After all, perhaps, it was natural for a girl to be a little shy. It was a way they had, and if it pleased them to hold off a little, why it showed they would be all the more sensible afterward. Now Annie had always been a great one for sweet speeches. " Soft- soap " he had designated it after their marriage. Perhaps he ought to have made a little more palaver about it to Phoebe, and not have frightened her. But pooh! It was a good sign. A bad beginning made a good ending generally. Maybe it was a good thing that Phoebe wasn't just ready to fall into his arms, the minute he asked her, then she wouldn't be always bothering around, clinging to him and sobbing in that maddening way that Annie had.

By the time he had reached home he had reasoned himself into complaisance again, and was pretty well satisfied with himself. As he closed the kitchen door he reflected that perhaps he might fix things up a bit about the house in view of a new mistress. That would probably please Phoebe, and he certainly did need a wife. Then Hiram went to bed and slept soundly.

Emmeline came to Phoebe's door before she went to bed, calling softly, " Phoebe, are you in there ? " and tapping on the door two or three times. When no answer came from the breathless girl in the dark behind the buttoned door, Emmeline lifted the latch and tried to open the door, but when she found it resisted her, she turned away and said to Albert in a fretful tone:

"I s'pose she's sound asleep, but I don't see what call she has to fasten her door every night. It looks so unsociable, as if she was afraid we weren't to be trusted. I wonder you don't speak to her about it."

But Albert only yawned good-naturedly, and said: "I don't see how it hurts you any."

"It hurts my self-respect," said Emmeline in an injured tone, as she shut her own door with a click.

Far into the night sat Phoebe, looking out of the window on the world which she loved, but could not enjoy any more. The storm of rage and shame and hatred passed, and left her weak and miserable and lonely. At last she put her head down on the window-sill and cried out softly: " Oh, mother, mother, mother! If you were only here to-night! You would take me away where I would never see his hateful face again."

The symphony of the night wailed on about her, as if echoing her cry in sobbing, throbbing chords, growing fainter as the moon arose, with now and then a hint of a theme of comfort, until there came a sudden hush. Then softly, tenderly, the music changed into the night's lullaby. All the world slept, and Phoebe slept, too.

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CHAPTER II

Phoebe was late coming down stairs the next morning. Emmeline was already in the kitchen rattling the pots and pans significantly. Emmeline always did that when Phoebe was late, as her room was directly over the kitchen, and the degree of her displeasure could be plainly heard.

She looked up sharply as Phoebe entered, and eyed the girl keenly. There were dark circles under Phoebe's eyes, but otherwise her spirits had arisen with the morning light, and she almost wondered at the fear that had possessed her the night before. She felt only scorn now for Hiram Green, and was ready to protect herself. She went straight at her work without a word. Emmeline had long ago expressed herself with regard to the " Good-morning " with which the child Phoebe used to greet her when she came down in the morning. Emmeline said it was " a foolish waste of time, and only stuck-up folks used it. It was all of a piece with dressing up at home with no one to see you, and curling your hair"—this with a meaning look at Phoebe's bright waves. Emmeline's light, fady hair was straight as a die.

They worked in silence. The bacon was spluttering to the eggs, and Phoebe was taking up the mush when Emmeline asked:

"Didn't Hiram find you last night?" She cast one of her sideways searching looks at the girl as if she would look her through and through.

Phoebe started and dropped the spoon back into the mush where it sank with a sigh and a mutter. There was something enlightening in Emmeline's tone. Phoebe saw it at once. The family had heen aware of Hiram's intention!

Her eyes flashed one spark of anger, then she turned abruptly back to the kettle and went on with her work.

" Yes," she answered, inscrutably. Emmeline was always irritated at the difficulty with which she found out anything from Phoebe.

" Well, I didn't hear you come in," she complained, " you must have been out a long time."

Wary Emmeline. She had touched the spring that opened the secret.

" I wasn't out five minutes in all."

" You don't say!" said Emmeline, in surprise. " Why, I thought you said Hiram found you."

Phoebe put the cover on the dish of mush and set it on the table before she deigned any reply. Then she came over and stood beside Emmeline calmly and spoke in a cool, clear voice:

" Emmeline, did Hiram Green tell you what he was coming out to the orchard for last night ? "

" For mercy's sake, Phoebe, don't put on heroics! I'm not blind, I hope. One couldn't very well help seeing, what Hiram Green wants. Did you think you were the only member of the family with eyes ? "

When Emmeline looked up from cutting the bread at the conclusion of these remarks she was startled to see Phoebe's face. It was white as marble even to the lips, and her great beautiful eyes shone like two luminous stars.

" Emmeline, did you and Albert know what Hiram Green wanted of me, and did you let him come out there to find me after you knew that ? "

Her voice was very calm and low. It reminded one of some coolly flowing river, with unknown depths in its shadowed bosom. Emmeline was awed by it for a moment. She laid down the bread-knife and stood and stared. Phoebe was small and dainter, with features cut like a cameo, and a singularly sweet, childlike expression when, her face was in repose. That she was rarely beautiful her family had never noticed, though sometimes Albert liked to watch her as she sat sewing. She seemed to him a pleasant thing to have around, like a bright posy-bed. Emmeline thought her too frail-looking and pale. But for the moment the delicate girl was transformed. Her face shone with a light of righteous anger, and her eyes blazed dark with feeling. Two spots of lovely rose-color glowed upon her cheeks. The morning sun had just reached the south window by the table where Emmeline had been cutting bread, and it laid its golden fingers over the bright waves of brown hair in a halo round her head, as if the sun would sanction her righteous wrath. She looked like some beautiful, injured saint, and before the intensity of the maiden's emotion her sister-in-law fairly quailed.

" Fer the land! Phoebe! Now don't! " said Emmeline, in a tone conciliatory. " What if I did know ? Was that any sin? You must remember your brother and I are looking to your best interests, and Hiram is considered a real fine ketch." '

Slowly Phoebe's righteous wrath sank again into her heart. The fire went out of her eyes, and in its place came ice that seemed to pierce Emmeline till she felt like shrinking away.

" You're the queerest girl I ever saw," said Emmeline, fretfully restive under Phoebe's gaze. " What's the matter with you ? Didn't you ever expect to have any beaux ? "

Phoebe shivered as if a north blast had struck her at that last word.

" Did you mean, then," she said, coldly, in a voice that sounded as if it came from very far away, " that you thought that I would ever be willing to marry Hiram Green? Did you and Albert talk it over and think that ? "

Emmeline found it hard to answer the question, put in a tone which seemed to imply a great offence. Phoebe lived on a plane far too high for Emmeline to even try to understand without a great effort. The effort wearied her.

" Well, I should like to know why you shouldn't marry him! " declared Emmeline, impatiently. " There's plenty of girls would be glad to get him." Emmeline glanced hurriedly out of the window and saw Albert and the hired man coming to breakfast. It was time the children were down. Alma came lagging into the kitchen, asking to have her frock buttoned, and Johnny and Bertie were heard scuffling in the rooms overhead. There was no time for further conversation. Emmeline was about to dismiss the subject, but Phoebe stepped between her and the little girl and laid her small supple hands on Emmeline's stout rounding shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes.

" Emmeline, how can you possibly be so unkind as to think such a thing for me when you know how Annie suffered?"

" Oh, fiddlesticks! " said Emmeline, shoving the girl away roughly. " Annie was a milk-and-water baby who wanted to be coddled. The right woman could wind Hiram Green around her little finger. You're a little fool if you think about that. Annie's dead and gone and you've no need to trouble with her. Come, put the things on the table while I button Alma. I'm sure there never was as silly a girl as .you are in this world. Anybody'd think you was a princess in disguise instead of a poor orphan dependent on her brother, and he only a half at that!"

With which parting shot Emmeline slammed the kitchen door and called to the two little boys in a loud, harsh tone.

The crimson rose in Phoebe's cheeks till it covered face and neck in a sweet, shamed tide and threatened to bring the tears into her eyes. Her very soul seemed wrenched from its moorings at the cruel reminder of her dependence upon the bounty of this coarse woman and her husband. Phoebe felt as if she must leave the house at once never to return, only there was no place—no place in this wide world for her to go.