Phoebe Deane (24 page)

Hiram, his suspicions confirmed, met the evening coach, but no Phoebe appeared. He stepped up to Albert Deane's in the evening long enough to make sure that she had not returned by any private conveyance, and the next day he drove over again, but again found the low farm-house closed and deserted, for Ann Jane had driven with Phoebe by another road to the village missionary meeting.

His temper not much improved with his two fruitless rides, Hiram returned, watched every passenger from the evening coach alight, and then betook himself to the Deanes again, where he was really surprised to find. Phoebe had returned.

That evening when the saffron flowers were being discussed he remarked that there were mighty nice saffron flowers for sale in Albany, and he watched Phoebe narrowly, but the round cheek did not flush nor the long lashes flutter in any suspicious way. Nevertheless, Hiram's mind never let go an evil thought that once lodged there. He felt he had a new power over Phoebe that he might use if occasion demanded. He could bide his time.

CHAPTER XVIII

Spring was coming on at last, and Hiram Green, who had been biding his time and letting his wrath smolder, began to think it was time to do something. All winter Phoebe had been able to keep comparatively free from him, save for his company with the family in the evening. Hiram took every opportunity possible to make it apparent that he was "keeping company" with Phoebe, through the medium of this nightly visit, and Phoebe made it plain upon every occasion that she did not consider his visit was for her. She got out of the way when she could, but Emmeline contrived to keep her unusually busy every evening, and her own room was so cold that escape was impossible.

Hiram had made several unsuccessful efforts to establish himself beside Phoebe in public, and he was getting desperate. Every Sunday when he tried to walk down the aisle with her he would find Miranda and Rose one on either side of her, Mrs. Spafford herself, sometimes all three, and all serenely unconscious of his presence. They attended her down to the carryall. She never went to the village any more that he could discover, unless Miranda came for her, or Albert took her back and forth, though once he had seen her flying across the fields from Granny McVane's house with a bundle that looked as if it came from the store. He complained to Emmeline at last and she agreed to help him. Albert was not taken into the scheme. For some reason it was deemed best not to tell Albert about it at all. He was apt to ask kindly, searching questions, and he always took it for granted that one did everything with the best of motives. Besides, he was not quick at evasion and might let the cat out of the bag.

There was to be a barn raising about ten miles the other side of the village, and the whole country round about were invited. It happened that the Woodburys, whose barn was to be raised, were distant relatives of Emmeline, and of course the Deanes were going.

Emmeline had shown plainly that she would be offended if Phoebe did not go, though the girl would have much preferred remaining at home with the new book Mrs. Spafford had sent up the day before. It was a matter of selfishness with Emmeline. She wanted Phoebe to help with the big dinner and relieve her so that she could visit with the other women.

It was a part of the scheme that Albert should go in the chaise with Alma, and should start while Phoebe was still dressing. Emmeline had managed Albert very adroitly, telling him that Hiram wanted a chance to " set in the front seat with Phoebe" in the carryall. Albert, always willing to do a good turn, acceded readily, though Alma was a somewhat reluctant passenger.

When Phoebe came downstairs she found Emmeline already seated in the back seat of the carryall with the other children. She gladly got into the front seat, as it was much pleasanter to be there than beside Emmeline, and she seldom had the opportunity of riding beside her brother, who was more congenial than the others. But in a moment Hiram Green appeared from around the corner of the house. He got quickly into the vacant seat beside Phoebe and whipped up the horses.

" Why, where is Albert ? " asked Phoebe in dismay, wishing she could get out.

"He had to go on," explained Emmeline, blandly. " Drive fast, Hiram, we'll be late." This last because she fancied she saw a frightened sideways glance from Phoebe as if she might be going to get out.

Phoebe turned her head to the road-side and tried to watch for the chance wild flowers, and forget the talk of crops and gossip that was kept up between Emmeline and Hiram, but the whole pleasant day was clouded for her, and her annoyance was double when they passed through the village and Janet Bristol in dainty pink dimity stared at them with haughty sweetness from under her white shirred bonnet and pink-lined sunshade. Janet was not going to the barn-raising evidently. She had many interests outside of the village where she was born, and did not mingle freely with her fellow-townsmen. There were only a favored few who were her friends and had the privileges of the beautiful old house.

Her passing called forth unfavorable comment from Emmeline and Hiram, and Phoebe writhed at her sister-in-law's tone, loud enough for Janet to hear easily, if she had a mind.

" The idea of wearing such fancy things of a mornin'!" she exclaimed. " I didn't think the Judge was such a fool as to let his daughter come up like that, fixed up fit for a party this early, an' a sunshade, too! What's she think it's for, I wonder! Her complexion's so dark a little more of this weak sunshine couldn't make much difference. Maybe she thinks she looks fine, but she's much mistaken. A lazy girl all decked out never looks pretty to me."

" That's 'bout right," declared Hiram, as if he knew all about it. " Give me a good worker ev'ry time, I sez, in preference to one with ringlets an' a nosegay on her frock. But you couldn't expec' much of that one. She's goin' to marry that highfolutin' Nate Graham, an' they'll have money 'nough betwixt 'em to keep her in prettys all the rest of her life. Say, did you hear Nate Graham'd turned Abolitionist? Well, it's so; I heard it from a r'liable source. Have a friend in New York writes me once in a while an' I know what I'm talkin' 'bout. Hed it from headquarters like, you know. Ef it's so he may get into trouble any time now. There's prices on them Abolitionists' heads! "

Hiram turned to look straight into Phoebe's startled face, with an ugly leer of a laugh. The girl's cheeks grew pink, and she turned quickly away; Hiram felt he had scored one against her. It made him good-natured all day. But Phoebe found herself trembling with a single thought. Did it mean life or death, this that Nathaniel had asked her to pray about; and had perhaps her prayers helped to put him in the way of danger ? Ah! But if it were true, how grand in him to be willing to brave danger for what he thought was right. Phoebe knew very little about the real question at issue, though she had read a number of Whittier's poems which had stirred her heart deeply. The great thought in her mind was that a man should be brave enough and good enough to stand against the whole world, if need be, to help a weak brother.

The day was one of noise and bustle and, for Phoebe, hard work. By instinct the women put tasks upon her young shoulders which they wished to shirk, knowing they would be well done. It was written large on Phoebe's face that she could be trusted. So they trusted her, and the fun and frolic and feasting went on, while she toiled in the kitchen, gladly taking extra burdens upon herself, only so it kept her out of any possibility of being troubled by Hiram.

She was washing dishes and meditating on how she could manage not to sit next to Hiram on the return trip when a little Woodbury entered the kitchen.

" Say, Phoebe Deane," she called out, " your brother says you're to go in the chaise with him this time, an' when you get ready you come out to the barn an' get in. He says you needn't hurry, for he's busy yet a while."

The child was gone back to her play before Phoebe could thank her, and with lightened heart she went on washing the dishes. Perhaps Albert had surmised her dislike to riding with Hiram and had planned this for her sake. She made up her mind to confide in Albert during this ride and see if he could not help her to get rid of her obnoxious lover once and for all. Albert was usually slow and undecided, but when once in a great while he put his foot down about something things usually went as he said.

She wiped the last dish, washed her hands, and ran upstairs for her bonnet and mantilla. Everybody else was gone. The long, slant rays of the setting sun were streaming in at the window and touching the great four-poster bed where lay her wraps alone. She put them on quickly, glad that every one else was out of the way and she would not have to wait for a lot of good-bys. The day had been a weariness to her, and she was thankful to have it over.

Mr. and Mrs. Woodbury stood together by the great stepping-stone in front of the house. They had said good-by to Albert and Emmeline an hour before, and had just been seeing off the last wagon-load of guests. They turned eagerly to thank Phoebe for her assistance. Indeed, the girl had many warm friends among older people who knew her kindly heart and willing hands.

" What! Your folks all gone and left you, Phoebe! " exclaimed Mrs. Woodbury in dismay! " Why, they must a' forgot you."

" No, they're not all gone, Mrs. Woodbury. Our chaise is out in the barn waiting for me. Albert sent word to me by your Martha that I needn't hurry, so I stopped to finish the dishes."

" Oh! Now that's so good of you, Phoebe Deane," said the tired farmer's wife, who expected she would have plenty of cleaning to do after the departure of her large company of guests. " You shouldn't ov done that. I could a' cleaned up. I'm 'fraid you're real tired. Wouldn't you like to stay over night and get rested ? "

But Phoebe shook hands happily with them and hurried down to the chaise. Now the Woodbury barn was out near the road, and the chaise stood facing the road, the horse not tied, but waiting with turned head as if his master was not far away. Phoebe jumped in with a spring, calling, " Come on, Albert. I'm here at last. Did I keep you waiting long ? "

Then before she had time to look around or know what was happening Hiram Green stepped out from the barn door, sprang into the seat beside her, and with unwonted swiftness caught up the whip and gave the horse such a cut that it started off at a brisk trot down the road. It was he who had sent the message by little Martha Woodbury, just as it had been given. Emmeline had managed the rest.

" Oh! " gasped Phoebe. " Why, Mr. Green, Albert is here waiting for me somewhere. Please stop the horse and let me find him. He sent word he would wait for me."

" That's all right," said Hiram, nonchalantly. " Albert decided to go in the carryall. Your sister-in-law was in a great stew to get back for milkin' time an' made him come, so I offered to bring ye back home."

Phoebe's heart froze within her. She looked wildly about her and knew not what to do. The horse was going very fast, and to jump would be dangerous. She had no idea that Hiram would stop and let her out if she should ask him. His talk the last time they had an encounter had shown her that she must not let him see he had her in his power. Besides, what excuse could she give for stopping save that she did not wish to go with him? And how otherwise could she get home that night? How she wished now that she had accepted Mrs. Woodbury's kind invitation. Could she not, perhaps, manage it yet?

" That's very kind of you," she faltered, with white lips, as she tried to marshal her wits and contrive some way out of this predicament. Then she made a feint of looking about her in the seat.

" I wonder if I remembered to bring my apron," she said, faintly. " Would you mind, Mr. Green, just driving back to see?"

" Oh, I reckon you'll find it," Hiram said, easily. " If you don't you got a few more, ain't you? Here, ain't this it?" and he fished out a damp roll from under the seat.

Phoebe had hoped for one wild little moment that she had really dropped it when she got into the chaise, for it did not seem to be about anywhere, but the sight of the damp blue roll dashed all her confidence. There was nothing for it but to accept the situation as bravely as possible and make the best of it. Her impulse was to turn angrily and tell Hiram Green that he had deceived her, but she knew that would do no good, and the safest thing was to act as if it were all right and try to keep the conversation upon every-day topics. If he would only keep on driving at this pace the journey would not be so intolerably long, after all, and they might hope to reach home a trifle before dark perhaps. She summoned all her courage and tried to talk pleasantly, although the countenance of the man beside her as she stole a swift glance at his profile, frightened her. There was both triumph and revenge upon it. " They had a pleasant day for the raising, Mr. Green," she began.

And then to her horror he slowed the horse to a walk and sat back close to her as if he intended to enjoy the tete a tete to its full.

It was an awful strain. Phoebe's cheeks blazed out in two red spots, and her eyes were bright with excitement. They dragged their slow way through a woods where the lights and shadows played in all the sweetness of spring odors. Phoebe sat up very straight, very much to her side of the chaise, and laughed and talked as if she were wound up.

Hiram did not say much. He sat watching her, almost devouring the changefulness of her face, fully understanding her horror of him and this ride, yet determined to make her suffer every minute of the time. It made his anger all the greater as he saw her bravely try to keep up a semblance of respect toward him and knew she did not feel it. Why could she not give it freely, and not against her will ? What was there about him she disliked? Never mind, she should pay for her dislike. She should see that she would have to treat him as she would treat those she liked, whether she wished or no.