The Earth Trembled Part 25

"In proving you mistaken, time will be my ally."

"You have asked me to be frank," she resumed. "In justice to you and myself I feel that I must be so. I do not share in the prejudices, if you prefer that word, of my father, but I must be governed by his wishes. I trust that you will not ask me to say more. Won't you please let me go now? See, the last guests are leaving."

"Tell me one thing," he pleaded eagerly as he rose. "I am not personally disagreeable to you?"

"The idea of my telling you anything of the kind!" and there was a flash of mirthfulness in her face which left him in a most tormenting state of uncertainty. A moment later she had shaken hands with Mrs. Willoughby, and was gone.

He stood looking after her, half-dazed by his conflicting feelings.

Turning, Mrs. Willoughby saw and understood him at once. She came to his side and said kindly, "Sit down, Mr. Houghton, I've not had a chance to talk with you yet."

With an involuntary sigh he complied.

CHAPTER XXV

FEMININE FRIENDS

Mrs. Willoughby was a woman of the world, yet in no bad sense. Indeed, beneath the veneer of fas.h.i.+onable life she possessed much kindliness of nature. She was capable of a good deal of cynicism toward those who she said "ought to be able to take care of themselves," and in this category she placed Clancy and Miss Ainsley. "I shall leave both to paddle their own canoes," she had said to herself.

Looking kindly at Houghton, who seemed to have lost his volubility, and waited for her to speak again, she thought: "If this young fellow was infatuated with Caroline I'd warn him quick enough." With the astuteness of a matron she merely remarked: "You seem greatly pleased with my little friend, Miss Bodine. You must not trifle with her, if she is poor, for she comes of one of the best families in the State."

"Trifle with Miss Bodine! What do you take me for, Mrs. Willoughby?" and he rose indignantly.

"There, now, sit down, my friend. I only said that so you might reveal how sincere you are, and I won't use any more diplomacy with you."

"I hope not," he replied laughing grimly. "You ought to know, what I am fast finding out, that a young fellow, like me, can no more understand a woman, unless she is frank, than he can Choctaw."

Mrs. Willoughby laughed heartily, and said: "I'll be frank with you, if you will be so with me."

"Then tell me why I am treated by so many in your set as if I had overrun the South with fire and sword?"

His first question proved that she could not be frank, for in order to give an adequate explanation she would have to reveal to him his father's animus and the hostility it evoked. She temporized by saying: "I do not so treat you, and surely Miss Bodine seemed to enjoy your conversation."

"I'm not so sure of that. At any rate she said she would have to ostracize me like the rest."

"She was kind in telling you that she would have to do so. She certainly bears you no ill-will."

"She probably does not care enough about me yet to do that. The worst of it is that I shall have no chance. Her father objects to her having anything to do with me, and that blocks everything. Even if I were capable of seeking a clandestine acquaintance, she is not. She is a thoroughly good girl; she doesn't know how to be deceitful."

"I'm glad you appreciate her so truly."

"I'd be a donkey if I didn't."

"Well, don't be unwise in your future action."

"What action can I take?" and he looked at her almost imploringly. A young man of his age is usually very ready to make a confidante of a married woman older than himself, yet young enough to sympathize with him in affairs of the heart. Houghton instinctively felt that the case might not be utterly hopeless if he could secure an ally in Mrs. Willoughby, for he recognized her tact, and believed that she was friendly. He promptly determined therefore to seek and to take her advice.

She looked at him searchingly as she said: "Perhaps it would be best not to take any action at all. If Miss Bodine has made only a pa.s.sing and pleasant impression, and you merely desire to secure another agreeable acquaintance you had better stop where you are. It will save you much annoyance, and, what is of far more consequence, may keep her from real trouble. As you suggest, you cannot do anything in an underhand way. If you attempted it, you would lose her respect instantly, your own also. She idolizes her father, and will not act contrary to his wishes. Why not let the matter drop where it is?"

"Can't take any such advice as that," he replied, shaking his head resolutely.

"Why not?"

"Oh, confound it! Suppose some one, years ago, had advised Mr. Willoughby in such style."

"Is it as serious as that?"

He pa.s.sed his hand in perplexity over his brow. "Mrs. Willoughby," he burst out, "I'm in deep water. 'I reckon,' as you say here, you understand me better than I do myself. I only know that I'd face all creation for the sake of that girl, yet what you say about making her trouble, staggers me.

I'm in sore perplexity, and don't know what to do."

"Will you take my advice?"

"Yes, I will, as long as I believe you are my honest friend, as long as I can."

"Well, you won't try to see Ella before you have consulted me?"

"I promise that."

"Don't do anything at present Think the matter over quietly and conscientiously. I'm sorry I must make one other suggestion. I fear your father would be as much opposed to all this as Captain Bodine himself."

"I think not. My father is not so stern as he seems. At least he is not stern to me, and he has let me spend more money than my neck's worth. I fancy he is well disposed toward Captain Bodine, for he has given him employment. I asked the old gentleman about it one day, but he changed the subject. He wouldn't have employed the captain, however, unless he was interested in him some way."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Oh, well, he naturally prefers to have Northerners about him."

"Will you permit me to be a little more frank than I have been?"

"I supposed you were going to be altogether frank."

"For fear of hurting your feelings I have not been. Your father is not friendly to us, and we reciprocate. This makes it harder for you."

Houghton thought in silence for a few moments, and then said: "You should make allowance for an old man, half heart-broken by the death of his oldest son, drowned in the bay there."

"I do; so would others, if he were not vindictive, if he did not use his great financial strength against us."

"I don't think he does this, certainly not to my knowledge. He only seeks to make all he can, like other business men."

"Mr. Houghton, you haven't been very much in Charleston. Even your vacations have been spent mainly elsewhere, I think, and your mind has been occupied with your studies and athletics. You are more familiar with Greek and Roman history than with ours, and you cannot understand the feelings of persons like Captain Bodine and his cousin, old Mrs. Bodine, who pa.s.sed through the agony of the war, and lost nearly everything--kindred, property, and what they deem liberty. You cannot understand your own father, who lost his son. You think of the present and future."

Houghton again sighed deeply as he said: "I admit the force of all you say. I certainly cannot feel as they do, nor perhaps understand them."

Then he added: "I wouldn't if I could. Why should I tie the millstone of the past about my neck?"

"You should not do so; but you must make allowance for those to whom that past is more than the present or future can be."

"Why can't they forgive and forget, as far as possible, as you do?"