The Green Dolphin
the Slough of Despond, when, behold, down the vista of the fairy lane
came Rebecca herself! In a limp white gown that clung to her figure,
and a violet scarf that floated out against the green of the landscape,
she seemed an apparition of his own conjuring, a phantom beautiful and
unreal. Breathlessly he watched, fearful lest the vision perish. Airily
she moved along, a veritable dryad of the woodland. Then of a sudden
she spied him, faltered, started to turn back, thought better of it,
and resolutely came on.
“What a day!” called she in her full, clear voice.
“It is fine weather.”
“And the lane--I never saw it lovelier.”
With desperate determination Lemmy pulled himself together.
“A regular lovers’ lane, ain’t it?” quavered he.
“‘Hamlet’ with Hamlet left out, I’m afraid,” fluted Miss Crosby.
“However, it is just as pretty for all that. Youth is wonderful,
though, isn’t it?”
“Bein’ young is in the feelin’s,” replied the Captain gallantly.
“So they say. And yet when rheumatism cricks my fingers I know better.”
So grave was her smile and so positive the assertion, Lemuel decided to
abandon that tack and try another.
“Age ain’t so bad,” he ventured. “Folks come to a time when they’re
full as willin’ to settle down.”
“I don’t mean ever to settle down,” was the disconcerting response.
“But--”
“What is the use of becomin’ stodgy an’ old until you have to?”
continued Rebecca with spirit.
“There ain’t none. I didn’t mean that. What I was intendin’ to say was
folks reach an age when it seems good to ’em to set an’--an’--let the
world go by.” Inspired by a memory from his tangled past he seized
avidly upon the words.
“I sha’n’t sit an’ let the world go by--not till I have to,” Rebecca
announced. “I mean to enjoy life till I collapse into my grave. Brother
Thomas used often to declare that was the way to do. Why, on the very
mornin’ of the day he died he was out puttin’ in onion sets.”
Feeling that some expression of sympathy should be forthcoming, Lemuel
leaped frantically into the breach.
“I never was partial to onions,” he murmured.
“Thomas’s death had nothin’ to do with the onions,” Miss Crosby said
with dignity.
“No, likely not--no, indeed! Nevertheless you must always sorter
associate him with ’em.” Then catching a glimpse of his lady’s
stiffening countenance he hurriedly added: “I mean they must always
kinder remind you of him.”
“I associate my Brother Thomas with far more beautiful things,” was the
icy retort.
“Yes, of course!” Lemuel wretchedly agreed. He took a wild, quick
breath and an onlooker might have seen his figure straighten as if for
a plunge.
“He certainly had the most beautiful thing in the world handy by him,”
gasped he.
Rebecca turned and as he met her puzzled gaze he crumpled weakly.
Still, clinging tenaciously to his purpose he floundered on:
“I mean bein’ brother to you he--you--you were his--his sister.”
“I should hope so.” Rebecca’s laughter echoed down the lane like a
chime of bells.
The Captain mopped his brow.
“Oh, damn it!” he burst out. “What I want to say is--wall, you must
have some notion. Ain’t you got no inklin’ at all?”
With averted head he moodily scanned the turf, fearing to confront the
eyes of the coy Rebecca.
Silence greeted his query.
Ah, she was, perhaps, as shy as he. The possibility reënforced his
waning courage and prompted him to look up. He even took a bold step
forward, but the next minute recoiled, aghast.
The lady of his heart was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished!
“Now I’ve made a nice variety of ass of myself,” soliloquized the
dejected lover, dismally kicking the grass. “I was fool enough before.
But after this she’ll rate me a jibberin’ idiot. ’Twas Brother Thomas
did it. I got launched an’ away all right an’ could, mebbe, have
breasted the current but for him. A plague on him an’ his onions!”
CHAPTER XX
As in utter dejection Lemuel slunk gloomily homeward, it pleased
his fancy to seek out the solitude of a dim grove of pines that lay
secluded from the highway. It was just the spot for a man whose
fortunes were at a low ebb to rail against Fate and curse himself in,
and hungering to indulge in this consoling and diverting pastime he
hastened eagerly hither.
He had not, however, more than planted foot within the confines of this
haven before, to his mingled chagrin and amazement, he espied Peggy
Davidson lying face down on the pine-matted ground sobbing as if her
heart would break.
“For goodness’ sake, Miss Peggy,” he cried, rushing to her side,
“what’s the matter? You ain’t hurt, are you?”
She lifted to him a tear-stained countenance.
“Only my feelings,” answered she wanly.
“But what’s the trouble? Why, I never saw you cry before in all my
life.”
“People have been known to cry for their sins,” she said, making a
brave attempt at lightness.
“But that ain’t what you’re cryin’ for.”
“Yes, I am--in a way.” Then the next instant, as if conscious that the
artificiality of the reply was an insult to the genuineness of Lemmy’s
sympathy, she added in a confidential outburst: “I’m crying because
I’ve been such a fool. Did you ever do anything silly and then repent
it in sackcloth and ashes?”
“Bless your heart, yes! Were I to sum up the times I’ve been a fool
’twould take me till sundown. I’ve been one this very mornin’.” He
loitered, scanning her distress with affectionate solicitude. “Do you
want I should set down; or would you rather I mogged along an’ left you
to yourself?”
“Please stay. I shall die if I don’t talk to somebody.” She motioned to
the carpet of bronze beside her. “I believe you’re the only person in
the world I could tell it all to.”
There was a quality appealingly childish in the words. Nevertheless,
despite her evident wish to unburden the griefs that oppressed her,
the foreshadowed confession was so long in coming that at length Lemmy
himself broke the silence:
“It’s about Eric, ain’t it?” began he, encouragingly.
“How did you know?”
“I just gave a guess, thinkin’ mebbe it might be. I’ve been kinder
upset about him, too.”
“Really!”
“Yes,” nodded Lemuel impressively, “I’ve been considerable concerned
about him--considerable concerned. It’s sorter seemed to me things
warn’t goin’ ’xactly as they’d oughter. That Shattuck chap, glistenin’
as his buttons are, ain’t no feller for you to marry.”
“I know it.”
“You do? Wal’, wal’! I’m thankful to hear you say so. It takes a load
off my mind.” He patted her hand with satisfaction. “So you’ve actually
come to that conclusion, have you?”
Peggy bowed her head.
“I decided so yesterday,” she responded, following with thoughtful eyes
the flicker of the shadows spangling the pine-strewn earth. “He went
away this morning.”
“He’s gone already?”
“Yes.”
“My land! An’ now you’re cryin’? You ain’t sorry so quick, I hope.”
“I’m not sorry at all.”
It was plain from the long breath Lemmy drew he was relieved.
“U----m! Then that’s done an’ over with!” announced he jubilantly.
Nevertheless, notwithstanding his approval of this initial step toward
the unravelling of Peggy’s difficulties, he halted, aware that those to
follow were not so simple.
“An’ now what happens?” he questioned cautiously.
“Nothing.”
“Nothin’! But bless my soul! Surely you don’t mean that. If nothin’ was
to happen afterwards what was the use of packin’ young Shattuck off bag
an’ baggage?”
“He bothered me--stirred me up. I couldn’t think when he was at my
elbow.”
“Oh, that was it, eh? Then his goin’ had nothin’ to do with Doctor
Hollingsworth after all.” The Captain could not conceal his
disappointment.
“Eric Hollingsworth?” He saw her flush. “Why should it? Eric and I are
just old friends. Besides, he’s all taken up with that Miss Parker. He
is with her every minute of the day. Not that I care,” she continued,
drawing in her chin. “He has a perfect right to trail round with
anybody he pleases. She’s an awfully nice girl and I don’t blame him an
atom. Only--”
“I don’t ’xactly see how you could,” drawled Lemuel. “You left him
kinder high an’ dry, you see. Naturally he had to take up with
somebody.”
“I suppose in a man’s estimation one girl is as good as another,” cut
in Peggy, for the first time displaying irritation.
The thrust, however, failed to penetrate Lemuel Gill’s good humor.
“No,” contradicted he in the same slow, placid tone, “generally
speakin’ men have their preferences same’s women. Still, when a girl’s
comely as Eleanor Parker is sorter lyin’ round loose a man would be
next to a numskull not to anchor to her--particularly after you’d
showed him you warn’t interested in him.”
“But I am!” came instantly from Peggy.
“Mebbe--after a fashion. Nevertheless, you don’t set any ’special store
by him.”
“Yes, I do!”
“Oh! Wal’, wal’! That changes matters, don’t it? Makes ’em awkward.
Pity Eric warn’t made aware of the fact before, ’cause now with you
carin’ for him at such a rate an’ he apparently carin’ for this Parker
girl--”
He heard a stifled sob.
“I--I--told you I’d been--been a fool.”
Lemuel covered the slim white hand with one of his brown ones.
“There, there, I wouldn’t cry about it if I was you,” said he. “Cryin’
ain’t goin’ to mend nothin’. You’d much better put a brave face on it an’
keep a stiff upper lip. Why, if I was to cry because of the way Rebecca
Crosby turns up her nose at me I’d be drowned in brine.”
“Rebecca Crosby!” Peggy, startled out of her own misfortunes by the
remark, stared at him.
“I s’pose you think ’cause I’m three times your age I’ve no feelin’s,”
continued Lemmy, with wounded dignity.
“You know I don’t,” was the indignant protest. “Nobody in the world has
a bigger heart than you. But you see I never--why, the idea of your
falling in love never crossed my mind.”
“Nor mine either,” confessed the swain with frankness. “Yet had I
considered the possibility fore an’ aft for the last twenty years
an’ mapped out precisely what I’d do if I ever found myself in such
a predicament, ’twouldn’t ’a’ had much weight when it come to the
scratch. Fallin’ in love ain’t one of the things you set out to do,
same’s you plan to go a-fishin’. It’s more like walkin’ blindfolded
into a puddle of water--first you know of the puddle you’re in it.”
In spite of herself Peggy laughed.
“Carin’ for folks makes you terrible wretched,” commented Lemmy after a
long, dreamy silence.
“Doesn’t it! Why, I lay awake nights and--”
“I don’t,” cut in the Captain. “I ain’t got that far--at least not
yet. Much as I love Rebecca, I sleep every night like a top. I find
there’s plenty of time durin’ the day to keep her in mind an’ get
fussed up. Evenin’s, too, when I don’t need to weed an’ it gets too
dark for pickin’ off dead blossoms or cultivatin’, I fall to thinkin’
of her. It’s lonely over to the shack after dusk. So as I set there
with nothin’ to do but shoo off the mosquitoes I get to considerin’
how senseless ’tis she should be goin’ through the world alone an’
I committin’ a similar foolishness, when we could just as well be
spliced together an’ cheerin’ one another up. We could live cosy as two
squirrels at my place. She likes flowers an’ is a prime cook. An’ then
over across the way there’d be Althea for her to visit with.”
“So there would!” exclaimed Peggy with enthusiasm. “Why, it would be
ideal. Have you suggested it to ’Becca?”
“Kinder faintly. But she didn’t seem to swaller the bait. While I was
skirmishin’ round gettin’ het up to present the notion so it would
sound temptin’ she melted away somewheres. So you see you’re the only
person I’ve actually discussed the scheme with. I’d give my eye teeth,
though, to know what Asaph’s opinion would be of such a match.”
“Suppose I ask him.”