Phoebe Deane (36 page)

" Yes, I went with David," responded Marcia, brightly, but Miss Hortense would brook no interruption.

" It's of no consequence now. I would have come yesterday, but we had company all day, the Pattersons from above Schenectady. I couldn't leave very well. But I hurried down this morning. It's about that Deane girl, Marcia. I suppose you haven't heard the dreadful reports that are going around. It really is disgraceful in a decent town. I'm only glad she got out of your house before it became town talk. It all shows what ingratitude there is in human nature, to think she should repay your kindness by allowing herself to be talked about in this shameful way."

Marcia exclaimed in dismay, but Miss Hortense went straight on to the precise and bitter end, giving every detail in the scandal that had come to her ears, details at which even. Hiram Green would have opened his eyes wide in surprise, and would never have believed that they grew out of his own story.

Marcia listened in rising indignation.

" I am sorry that any such dreadful story is abroad, Aunt Hortense," she answered, earnestly, " but really, if you knew the girl, you would understand how impossible it is for this to be true. She is as sweet and pure and innocent as my little Eose."

" I should be sorry to have David's child compared to that miserable girl, Marcia," said Miss Hortense, severely, rising as she spoke, " and I am sure that after my warning if you do not shut that wretched creature forever out of your acquaintance I shall feel it my duty to appeal to David, and tell him the whole story, though I should dislike to have to mention anything so indelicate before him. David is very particular about the character of women. He was brought up to be; and Amelia and I both agree that he must be told."

" I shall tell him myself, of course, and he will see if anything can be done to stop this ridiculous gossip," said Marcia, indignantly. " David is as fond of Phoebe as I am."

" You will find David will look on it in a very different way, my dear. You are young and a woman. You do not know the evil world. David is a man. Men know. Good- by, my dear. I have warned you!" And Aunt Hortense went pensively down the street, having done her duty.

Marcia put her bonnet on, took little Rose, and walked straight out to Albert Deane's house, but when she reached there was denied admission. Alma opened the door, but did not ask the caller in. In a moment she came back from consulting her mother and said: " Ma says Aunt Phoebe's up in her room an' don't wish to see no one."

The door was shut unceremoniously by the stolid little girl, who was embarrassed before the beautiful, smiling Rose in her dainty attire. Marcia turned away, dismayed, hurt, at the reception she had received and walked slowly homeward.

"Wasn't that a funny little girl," said Rose. "She wasn't very polite, was she, mother ? "

Then Marcia went home to wait until she could consult with David.

When Nathaniel received his Cousin Janet's letter his anger rose to white heat. Every throb of his heart told him that the stories about Phoebe were false. Like Miranda, he felt at once that an enemy had done this, and he felt like searching out the enemy at once and throttling him into repentance. He read the postscript through twice and then sat for a few minutes in deep thought, his face shaded by his hand. The office work went on about him, but his thoughts were far away in a sunlit autumn wood. After a little he got up suddenly and going into the inner office where he could be alone, sat down quickly, and wrote:

" My Dear Phoebe : "

(He had never called her that before, it was always "Miss Deane.")

" I have loved you for a long time, ever since that afternoon that I found you among the autumn leaves in the woods. I have been trying to wait to tell you until I could be sure you loved me, but now I can wait no longer. I am lonely without you. I want you to be here with me. I love you, darling, and will love you forever, and guard you tenderly, if you will give me the right. Will you forgive this abrupt letter, and write immediately, giving me the right to come up and tell you all the rest? "

Yours in faithful love,

"Nathaniel Graham."

After he had sent it off enclosed to Miranda, he scribbled another, to Janet.

" Dear Janet," it read, " wherever did you get those ridiculous stories about Phoebe Deane? They are as false as they are foolish. Everybody that knows her at all knows they could not be true. I insist that you deny them whenever you have the opportunity, and for my sake that you go and call upon her. I may as well tell you that I am going to marry her if she will have me, and I want you, Janet, to be like a sister to her, as you have always been to me. Any breath against her name I shall consider as against mine also, so please, Janet, stand up for her for my sake. "

Your loving cousin,

" Nathaniel."

After these two letters had been dispatched Nathaniel put in the best day's work he had ever done.

Miranda had reached Albany in time to catch the evening boat down the Hudson. She was more tired than she had ever been in all the years of her hard-working life. The bouncing of the stage-coach, the constant change of scenery and fellow passengers, the breathlessness of going into a strange region, had worn upon her nerves. She had not let a single thing pass unnoticed and the result was that even her iron nerves had reached their limit at last. Besides, she was more worried about Phoebe Deane than she had ever been about anything in her life. The ethereal look of the girl as she bade her good-by the night before had gone to her heart. She half feared Phoebe might fall asleep and never waken while she was gone on her desperate errand of mercy.

" Land sake alive," she murmured to herself, as she crept into her bunk in the tiny stateroom and lay clown without putting off any of her garments save her bonnet and cape. " Land sake alive! I feel as ef I'd ben threshin'. No, I feel as ef I'd ben threshed! " she corrected. " I didn't know I hed so many bones."

Nevertheless she slept little, having too much to attend to. She wakened at every stop in the night, and she heard all the bells and calls of the crew. Half the time she thought the boat was sinking and wondered if she would be able to swim when she struck the water. Anyhow she meant to try. She had heard it " came natural" to some people.

When morning broke over the heights above the river she watched them grow into splendor and majesty, and long before the city was in sight she was on deck sniffing the air like a veteran war-horse. Her eyes were dilated with excitement, and she made a curious and noticeable figure as she gripped her small bag of modest belongings, and sat strained up and ready for her first experience of city life. She felt a passing regret that she could not pause to take in more of this wonderful trip, but she promised herself to come that way again some day, and hurried over the gang-plank with the others when the boat finally landed.

Tucked safely away in her pocket was Phoebe's letter to Nathaniel and safe in her memory was its address. Every passenger with whom she had talked upon the voyage—and she had entered into conversation with all except a man who reminded her of Hiram Green—had given her detailed directions how to get to that address, and the directions had all been different. Some had told her to walk one way and take a cab, some another way. Some had suggested that she take a cab at the wharf. She did none of these things. She gripped her bag firmly and marched past all the officials, through the buildings, out into the street. There she stood a moment bewildered by the noise and confusion, a marked figure even in that hurrying throng of busy people. Small boys and drivers immediately beset her. She looked each over carefully and then calmly walked straight ahead. So far New York did not look very promising to her, but she meant to get into a quieter place before she made any inquiries.

At last after she had walked several blocks and was beginning to feel that there was no quiet place, and no end to the confusion, she met a benevolent old gentleman walking with a sweet-faced girl who looked as she imagined little Eose would look in a few years. These she hailed and demanded directions, and ended by being put into a Broadway coach under the care of the driver, who was to put her out at her destination.

Nathaniel was in the inner office attending to some special business when the office boy tapped at the door.

" There's a queer client out here," he whispered. " We told her you were busy and could not be bothered, but she says she has come a long distance and must see you at once. Shall I tell her to come again?"

Nathaniel glanced through the door, and there, close behind the careful office boy, stood the wily Miranda. She had run no risks of not seeing Nathaniel. She had followed the boy, strictly against orders.

Her homely face was aglow with the light of her mission, but in spite of freckles and red hair, and the disheveled state of her appearance, Nathaniel put out an eager hand to welcome her. His first thought was that she had brought an answer to his letter to Phoebe, and his heart leaped up in sudden eagerness. Then at once he knew that it was too soon for that, for he had only sent his own letter in the evening mail.

" Come right in, Miranda," he said, eagerly, " I'm glad to see you. Are you all alone ? " Then something in her face caused a twinge of apprehension.

" Is every one all well ? "

Miranda sat down and waited until the door was shut. Then she broke forth.

" No, everythin' ain't all well. Everythin' 's all wrong. Phoebe Deane's in tumble trouble, an' she's wrote a letter sayin' good-by to you, an' ast me to mail it. I said I would, an' I brung it along. I reckon it didn't make no diff'rence whether it travelled in my pocket er in the mail- bag, so it got here."

She held out the letter, and Nathaniel's hand shook as he took it. Miranda noticed that he looked pale.

" What has happened, Miranda ?" he asked, as he tore open the letter, hardly knowing what he feared.

" Oh, it's that ole snake-in-th'-grass," said Miranda; " I'd be willin' to stake my life on that. No knowin' how he done it, but it's done. There's plenty to help in a business like gossip, when it comes to that. There's ben awful lies told about her, and she's bein' crushed by it. Wai, I hed to come down to New York to get me a new balzarine frock an' I jest thought I'd drop in an' tell yeh the news. Yeh don't know of a good store where I won't get cheated, do yeh ? " she asked, making a pretense of rising.

" Sit down, Miranda," commanded Nathaniel. " You're not going away to leave me like this. You must tell me all about it. Miranda, you know, don't you, that Phoebe is my dear friend. You know that I must hear all about it."

" Well, ain't she told you in the letter ? I reckon you'll go back on her like her own folks hev done, won't you ? An' let that scoundrel git her next week like he's planned."

" What do you mean, Miranda ? Tell me at once all about it. You know Phoebe Deane is very dear to me."

Miranda's eyes shone, but she meant to have things in black and white.

" How dear ?" she asked, looking up in a biisiness-like way. " Be you goin' to b'lieve what they all say 'bout her, an' let them folks go on talkin', 'til she's all wilted down an' dead? 'Cause ef you be, you don't git a single word out o' me. No, sir!"

" Listen, Miranda. Yesterday I wrote to Phoebe asking her to marry me! "

Satisfaction began to dawn upon the face of the self- appointed envoy extraordinary.

" Well, that ain't no sign you'd do it again to-day," said Miranda, dryly. " You didn't know nothin' 'bout her bein' in trouble then."

" Yesterday morning, Miranda, I received a letter from my cousin telling me all about it, and I sat down at once and asked Phoebe to marry me."

" You sure you didn't do it out o' pity ? " asked Miranda, lifting sharp eyes to search his face. " I shouldn't want to hev nobody marry her out o' pity, the way Hiram Green's going to do, the old nimshi!"

" Miranda, I love her with all my heart, and I will never believe a word against her. I shall make it the object of my life to protect her and make her happy if she will give me the precious treasure of her love in return. Now are you satisfied, you cruel girl, and will you tell me the whole story? For the little I heard from my cousin has only filled me with apprehension,"

Then the freckles beamed out and were lost in smiles as Miranda reached a strong hand and grasped Nathaniel's firm white one with a hearty shake.

" You're the right stuff. I knowed you was. That's why I come. I didn't darst tell Mis' Spafford what was up, 'cause she wouldn't 'a' let me come, an' she'd 'a' tried to work it out in some other way. But I hed it all figgered out, an' there wan't time for any fiddlin' business. It hed to be done t' woncet ef 'twas to be did 't all, so I told her I wanted a pleasure trip an' a new balzarine, an' I come. Now I'm goin' to tell you all 'bout it, an' then ef there's time fer the balzarine 'fore the evenin' boat starts I'll get it, otherwise it'll hev to git the go-by this time, fer I've got to git right back to Phoebe Deane. She looked jest awful 'fore I left, an' there's no tellin' what they'll do to her while I'm gone."

Nathaniel, with loving apprehension in his eyes, listened to the story, told in Miranda's inimitable style, his face darkening with anger over the mention of Hiram's part.

" The scoundrel!" he murmured, clenching his fingers as if he could hardly refrain from going after him and giving him what he deserved.