Part 35 (1/2)
”Oh!” said Hezekiah, ”that would be an embarra.s.sment to me all the rest of my life. Listen carefully. Take Wiggy in by the back way, and give him a picture-book to look at. Leave Cecilia alone on the terrace when you're all ready, and see what happens. If d.i.c.k's on his way to the house he's going to do something, and he must feel the edge of my displeasure. I owe him a few on general principles.”
”What does all this mean? You say there 's nothing wrong at the house?” began Wiggins as we left Hezekiah and started toward Hopefield.
”Nothing whatever the matter; everything perfectly all right; but you've got to keep mum now and do what I tell you. I've worked hard for you, old man, and when it's all over I'm going to send you a bill for professional services. Come!”
I urged my horse to his utmost, and Wiggins rode steadily beside me.
The fright Orton had given him had done my friend good, and I felt that I was dealing with a live man at last. Our speed did not permit conversation, but feeling that Wiggins was ent.i.tled to some further a.s.surance, I waited until we were climbing our last hill to add a word.
”I'll tell you all about this after we have a good-night cigar to-night. You know I told you I was going to help, and if nothing goes wrong and Hezekiah does n't fail, you will see the world with new eyes before you sleep.”
We rode direct to the stable, and I took Wiggins to my room by the back stairs and bade him help himself to my raiment. He was perfectly tractable, and I was glad to see that he trusted implicitly to my guidance.
I met Miss Octavia in the lower hall. She was just in from the kennels. Her new Airedale was a perfect specimen of the breed, she declared, and she announced her intention of exhibiting him at all the reputable bench shows in America.
”I hope, Arnold, that you have not been without entertainment to-day.”
”Miss Hollister, the three musketeers were fat monks asleep under the sunny wall of a monastery compared with me!”
”I am glad you are not bored. By the way, if you should by any chance see Hezekiah, you will kindly intimate to her that if she returns that Estabrook mare she borrowed this morning in reasonably good condition, I will overlook her indiscretion in taking it from the stable without permission.”
She did not wait for a reply, but continued on to her room, and I went direct to the terrace. Cecilia and Pepperton were just going into the house to look up a book or piece of music which they had been discussing. Cecilia was making herself interesting, as she so well knew how to do, and she seemed in no wise anxious.
”We had forgotten tea,” she said. ”Aunt Octavia has just ordered it.”
”She and Mr. Pepperton may have their tea. I believe the air outside will do you good for a little longer,--so if you don't mind, Pepperton, Miss Hollister will resume her promenade alone.”
Pep has told me since that he thought me quite mad that afternoon. I bade Cecilia patrol the long terrace slowly. She turned up the collar of the covert coat and obeyed, laughing a little nervously but asking no questions. The scene could not have been more charmingly set. The great house loomed darkly behind her; beneath lay the garden, over which the dusk was stealing goldenly.
She paused suddenly as I watched from the window, and I stepped out to see what had attracted her attention. There into the garden from its farther entrance filed the six suitors who had previously come to sit beneath the windows of their stricken lady! Having failed to visit their wrath upon the perfidious d.i.c.k they had changed their clothes and returned to Hopefield. If Hezekiah had not expressly commanded me not to become the sixth man, I should have offered myself on the spot, and waited only until Cecilia had made the inevitable answer before summoning Wiggins to end the whole affair. Such, however, was not to be the order of events.
The procession, headed by Ormsby, was within a few yards of the terrace. Cecilia, apparently unconscious of their proximity, continued her promenade. In a moment she must recognize them, ask them into the house, give them tea, and otherwise destroy my hope of securing her happiness before the day's end.
A chorus of yelps and barks, as of dogs suddenly released, greeted my ear. The oncoming suitors heard it too, and the line wobbled uncertainly. Then round the house swept mastiffs, hounds, terriers,--a collection of prize-winners such as few kennels ever boasted, loping gayly in unwonted freedom toward unknown and forbidden pastures.
The vanguard of fox-terriers leaped down into the garden, with the rest of the pack at their heels. Happy dogs, to find grown men ready for a gambol! Six coat-tails streamed from the hips of six gentlemen in a hurry. Several battered hats mixed with geraniums were retained later as spoils of war by the gardener. That garden had been built for repose and contemplative amblings, not for panic and flight. The disorder was superior in picturesqueness to that which attended the pumpkin stampede; at least it struck me at the moment as funnier; and I have never since been able to attend a day wedding without appearing idiotic--the procession of ushers suggests possibilities that are too much for me. Four of the suitors found one of the proper exits into the road; two leaped the box-hedge on the other side without shaking a leaf.
I ran round the house, stumbling through the rear-guard of the truant canines, and pa.s.sing the kennel-master, who had rallied the stable men and was in hot pursuit.
”Somebody turned 'em out--turned 'em out!” he shouted, and swept profanely by. The gate of the kennel-yard stood open. A familiar figure, running low, paused, and then sprinted nimbly along the paddock fence. A white sweater was distinguishable for a moment on a stone wall, then it followed a pair of enchanted heels into oblivion.
Time had been pa.s.sing swiftly, and the shadows were deepening. I retraced my steps toward the terrace, hearing the cries of pursued and pursuers growing fainter. I had not yet gained a position from which I could see Cecilia, when a man appeared some distance ahead of me, walking guardedly in one of the garden-plots. He came uncertainly, pausing to glance about, yet evidently led toward the terrace by a definite purpose. All may be fair in love and war, but I confess to a feeling of pity for John Stewart d.i.c.k as I watched him slowly advancing to his fate. He was going boldly now, and I felt a sudden liking for him; nor can I believe that he was other than a manly fellow with sound brains and a good heart.
I reasoned, as I marked his approach to the terrace, that he had been loitering in the neighborhood, probably watching Cecilia and Pepperton, and when the architect retired, he had a.s.sumed that the sixth man had spoken. The appearance of his former comrades of the inn had doubtless disturbed him as it had me; then, thanks to the resourceful Hezekiah, they had been routed and the coast was clear. I think it likely that the sight of Cecilia sombrely pacing the terrace in the darkening shadows was too much for his philosophic poise, or like the rest of us who were actors in that comedy, he may have felt that any end was better than the doubts and uncertainties that beset us.