Phoebe Deane (25 page)

She suggested that they better drive faster, as it was getting late and would soon be dark. He said that did not matter, that Emmeline had said they were not to hurry. She told him she would be needed, but he told her it was right she should have a little rest once in a while, and he smiled grimly as he said it, knowing the present ride was anything but a rest to the poor tried soul beside him. He seemed to delight in torturing her. The farther she edged away from him the nearer he came to her, until when they emerged from the woods and met a carryall with some people they both knew, he was sitting quite over on her side, and she was almost out of her seat, her face a piteous picture of rage and helplessness.

Emboldened by the expression on the faces of their acquaintances, Hiram threw his arm across the back of the chaise, until it quite encircled Phoebe's back, or would have if she had not sat upon the extreme front edge of the seat.

They had reached a settlement of three houses, where a toll-gate, spreading its white pole out across the way, and a little store and school-house, went by the name of The Crossroads. Hiram flung a bit of money out to the toll-man and drove on without stopping. Phoebe’s heart was beating wildly. She could not sit thus on the edge of her seat another instant. Something must be done.

" Mr. Green, would you mind moving over just a little, I haven't quite enough room," she gasped.

" Oh, that's all right," said Hiram, as heartily as if he really did not understand the situation. " Just sit clos'ter. Don't be shy." His circling arm came round her waist and by brute strength drew her up to him, so that it looked from behind as if they were a pair of lovers. The top of the chaise was thrown back so that they could easily be seen.

They had just passed the last house. It was the home of old Mrs. Duzenberry and her elderly daughter Suzanna. Living so far from the village they made it a point not to miss anything that went by their door, and at this hour in the afternoon, when their simple tea was brewing, they both sat by the front window, ready to bob to the door the minute there was anything of interest. It is needless to say that they both bobbed on this occasion, the daughter with folded arms and alert beak like some old bird of prey, the mother just behind with quizzical exclamatory interrogations written in every curve of her cap-strings.

Phoebe, glancing back wildly, as she felt herself drawn beyond her power to stop it, saw them gaping at her in amaze, and her cheeks grew crimson with shame.

" Stop!" she cried, putting out her hands and pushing against him.

She might as well have tried to push off a mountain that was in her path. Hiram only laughed and drew her closer, till his ugly, grizzled face was near to her own. She could feel his breath upon her cheek, and the horse was going faster now. She did not know just how it happened, whether Hiram had touched him with the whip, or spoken a low word. They were down the road out of sight of the Duzenberrys before she could wrench herself away from the scoundrel. Even then it was but that he might settle himself a little closer and more comfortably that he let go of her for a moment and then the strong, cruel arm came back as if it had a right around her waist, and Hiram's face came cheek to cheek with her own.

She uttered one terrible scream, and looked around, but there was no one in sight. The sun, which had been slowly sinking like a ball of burning opal, suddenly dropped behind a hill and left the world dull and leaden with a heavy sky of gray. Dark blue clouds seemed all around, which until now had not been noticed, and a quick uncertain wind was springing up; a low rumble behind them seemed to wrap them in a new dread. But the strong man's grasp held her fast, and her screams brought no help.

In the horror of the moment a thought of her mother came, and she wondered if that mother were where she could see her child, and whether it did not give her deep anguish even in the bliss of heaven to know she was in such straits. Then as the sharp stubble of Hiram's upper lip brushed the softness of her cheek fear gave her strength, and with a sudden mighty effort she broke from his grasp.

Beaching out to the only member of the party who seemed at all likely to render any aid, Phoebe caught the reins and pulled back upon them with all her might, while her heart was lifted in a swift prayer for help. Then quick, as if in instant answer, while the grey plow-horse reared back upon his haunches, and plunged wildly in the air, came a brilliant flash of jagged lightning, as if the sky was cloven in wrath, and the light of heaven let through; and this was followed on the instant by a terrible crash of thunder.

With an oath of mingled rage and awe, Hiram pushed Phoebe from him and reached for the reins to try and soothe the frightened horse, who was plunging and snorting and trembling in fear.

The chaise was on the edge of a deep ditch half filled with muddy water. One wheel was almost over the edge. Hiram saw the danger, and reached for his whip. He cut the horse a frantic lash which brought his fore-feet to the ground again and caused him to start off down the road on a terrific gallop. But in that instant, while the chaise poised on the edge of the ditch, Phoebe's resolve had crystallized into action. She gave a wild spring, just as the cut from the whip sent the horse tearing headlong down the road. Her dress caught in the arm of the chaise, and for one instant she poised over the ditch. Then the fabric gave way and she fell heavily, striking her head against the fence, and lay huddled in the muddy depths. Down the hard road echoed the heavy hoof-beats of the horse in frenzied gallop with no abatement, and over all the majestic thunder rolled.

CHAPTER XIX

Her senses swam off into the relief of unconsciousness for a moment, but the cold water creeping up through her clothing chilled her back to life again, and in a moment more she had opened her eyes in wonder that she was lying there alone, free from her tormentor. She fancied she could hear the echo of the horse's feet yet, or was it the thunder ? Then came the awful thought, what would happen if he returned and found her lying here? He would be terribly angry at her for having frightened the horse and jumped out of the chaise. He would visit it upon her in some way she felt sure, and she would be utterly defenseless against him.

There was not a soul in sight and it was growing suddenly dark. She must be at least six or seven miles away from home. She did not come that way often enough to be sure of distances. With new fear she sat up, and crept out of the water. The mud was deep and it was difficult to step, but she managed to get away from the oozy soil, and into the road again. Then in a panic she sprang across the ditch and crept under the fence. She must fly from here. When Hiram succeeded in stopping the horse he would undoubtedly come back for her, and she must get away before he found her.

Which way should she go? She looked back upon the road, but feared to go that way, lest he would go to those houses and search for her. There was no telling what he would say. She had no faith in him. He might say she had given him the right to put his arm around her. She must get away from here at once where he could not find her. Out to the right, across the road, it was all open country. There was nowhere she could take refuge near by. But across this field and another there was a growth of trees and bushes. Perhaps she could reach there and hide and so make her way home after he had gone.

She fled across the spring-sodden field as fast as her soaked shoes and her trembling limbs could carry her; slipping now and then and almost falling, but catching at the fence and going on, wildly, blindly, till she reached the fence. Once she thought she heard the distant bellowing of a bull, but she crept to the other side of the fence and kept on her way, breathless. And now the storm broke into wild splashes of rain, pelting on her face and hair, for her bonnet had fallen back and was hanging around her neck by its ribbons. The net had come off from her hair, and the long locks blew about her face and lashed her in the eyes as she ran. It was dark as night and Phoebe could see but dimly where she was going. Yet this was a comfort to her rather than a source of fear. She felt it would the better cover her hiding. Her worst dread was to come under the power of Hiram Green again.

So she worked her way through the fields, groping for the fences, and at last she reached an open road, and stood almost afraid to try it, lest somewhere she should see Hiram lurking. The lightning blazed and shivered all about her, trailing across the heavens in awful and wonderful display; the thunder shuddered above her until the earth itself seemed to answer, and she felt herself in a rocking abyss of horror; and yet the most awful thing in it all was the fact of Hiram Green.

She had heard all her life that the most dangerous place in a thunderstorm was under tall trees, yet so little did she think of it that she made straight for the shelter of the wood; and though the shocks crashed about her, and seemed to be cleaving the giants of the forest, there she stayed until the storm had abated, and the genuine darkness had succeeded.

She was wet to the skin, and trembling like a leaf. Her strongest impulse was to sink to the earth and weep herself into nothingness, but her common-sense would not let her even sit down to rest. She knew she must start at once if she would hope to reach home. Yet by this time she had very little idea of where she was and how to get home. With another prayer for guidance she started out, keeping sharp lookout along the road with ears and eyes, that there might be no possibility of Hiram's coming upon her unaware. Twice she heard vehicles in the distance, and crept into the shelter of some trees until they passed. She heard pleasant voices talking of the storm and longed to cry out to them for help, yet dared not. What would they think of her, a young girl out alone at that time of night, and in such a condition? Besides, they were all strangers. She dared not speak. And neither to friends would she have spoken, for they would have been all the more astonished to find her so. She thought longingly of Mrs. Spafford, and Miranda, yet dreaded lest even Mrs. Spafford might think she had done wrong to allow herself to ride even a couple of miles with such a man as Hiram Green after all the experience she had had with him. Yet as she plodded along she wondered how she could have done differently, unless indeed she had dared to pull up the horse and jump out at once; yet very likely she would not have been able to make her escape from her tormentor as easily earlier in the afternoon as at the time when she had taken her unpremeditated leap into the ditch.

As she looked back upon the experience it seemed as though the storm had been sent by Providence to provide her a shield and a way of escape. If it had not been for the storm the horse would not have been easily frightened into running, and Hiram would soon have found her and compelled her to get into the chaise again. What could she have done against his strength! She shuddered, partly with cold and partly with horror.

A slender thread of a pale moon had come up, but it gave a sickly light, and soon slipped out of sight again, leaving only the kindly stars whose lights looked brilliant but so far away to-night. Everywhere was a soft dripping sound, and the seething of the earth drinking in a good draught.

Once when it seemed as if she had been going for hours she sat down on the wet bank to rest, and a horse and rider galloped out of the blackness past her. She hid her white face in her lap and he may have thought her but a stump beside the fence. She was thankful he did not stop to see, but as yet nothing had given her a clue to her whereabouts, and she was cold, so terribly cold.

At last she passed a house she did not know, and then another, and another. Finally she made out that she was in a little settlement, about three miles from the Deanes' farm. She could not tell how she had wandered, nor how she came to be yet so far away when she must have walked at least twenty miles. But the knowledge of where she was brought her new courage.

There was a road leading from this settlement straight to Granny McVane's, and she would not need to go back by the road where Hiram would search for her, if indeed he had not already given up the search and gone home. The lights were out everywhere in this village, save in one small house at the farthest end, and she stole past that as if she had been a wraith. Then she breathed more freely as she came into the open country road again, and knew there were but two or three houses now between herself and home.

It occurred to her to wonder in a dull way if the horse had thrown Hiram out and maybe he was hurt, and whether she might not after all have to send a search party after him. She wondered what he would do when he could not find her, supposing he was not hurt. Perhaps he had been too angry to go back for her and her dread of him had been unnecessary. But she thought she knew him well enough to know he would not easily give her up.

She wondered if he would tell Albert, and whether Albert would be worried—she was sure he would be, good, kind Albert—and what would Emmeline say? Emmeline, who had been at the bottom of all this she was sure—and then her thoughts would trail on ahead of her in the wet, and her feet would lag behind and she would feel that she could not catch up. If only a kindly coach would appear! Yet she kept on, holding up her heavy head, and gripping her wet mantle close with her cold, cold hands, shivering as she went.

Once she caught herself murmuring: " Oh, mother, mother! " and then wondered what it meant. So stumbling on, slower and more slowly, she came at last to the little house of Granny Me Vane, all dark and quiet, but so kindly- looking in the night. She longed to crawl to the doorstep and lie down to die, but duty kept her on. No one must know of this if she could help it. That seemed to be the main thought she could grasp with her weary brain.