A Bicycle of Cathay Part 7

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WENT OUT FOR A WALK"]

"This ought to be a good country for sport," I said--"fis.h.i.+ng, and that sort of thing."

"You're stoppin' here for the night?" he asked. I presumed from his voice and appearance that he was a stable-man, and from his tone that he was disappointed that I had not brought a horse with me.

I a.s.sented to his question, and he said:

"I never heard of no fis.h.i.+n'. When people want to fish, they go to a lake about ten miles furder on."

"Oh, I do not care particularly about fis.h.i.+ng," I said, "but there must be a good many pleasant roads about here."

"There's this one," said he. "The people on wheels keep to it." With this he turned and walked slowly towards the back of the house.

"A lemon-loving lot!" thought I, and as I approached the porch I saw that the lady who had gone to school at Walford was standing there. I did not believe she had been eating lemons, and I stepped forward quickly for fear that she should depart before I reached her.

"Been taking a walk?" she said, pleasantly. There was something in the general air of this young woman which indicated that she should have worn a little ap.r.o.n with pockets, and that her hands should have been jauntily thrust into those pockets; but her dress included nothing of the sort.

The hall lamp was now lighted, and I could see that her attire was extremely neat and becoming. Her face was in shadow, but she had beautiful hair of a ruddy brown. I asked myself if she were the "lady clerk" of the establishment, or the daughter of the keeper of the inn.

She was evidently a person in some authority, and one with whom it would be proper for me to converse, and as she had given me a very good opportunity to open conversation, I lost no time in doing so.

"And so you used to live in Walford?" I said.

"Oh yes," she replied, and then she began to speak of the pleasant days she had spent in that village. As she talked I endeavored to discover from her words who she was and what was her position. I did not care to discuss Walford. I wanted to talk about the Holly Sprig Inn, but I could not devise a courteous question which would serve my purpose.

Presently our attention was attracted by the sound of singing at the corner of the little lawn most distant from the house. It was growing dark, and the form of the singer could barely be discerned upon a bench under a great oak. The voice was that of a man, and his song was an Italian air from one of Verdi's operas. He sang in a low tone, as if he were simply amusing himself and did not wish to disturb the rest of the world.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MRS. CHESTER]

"That must be the Italian who is stopping here for the night," she said. "We do not generally take such people; but he spoke so civilly, and said it was so hard to get lodging for his bear--"

"His bear!" I exclaimed.

"Oh yes," she answered, with a little laugh, "he has a bear with him.

I suppose it dances, and so makes a living for its master. Anyway, I said he might stay and lodge with our stable-man. He would sing very well if he had a better voice--don't you think so?"

"We do not generally accommodate," "I said he might stay"--these were phrases which I turned over in my mind. If she were the lady clerk she might say "we"--even the boy said "we"--but "I said he might stay" was different. A daughter of a landlord or a landlady might say that.

I made a remark about the difficulty of finding lodging for man and beast, if the beast happened to be a bear, and I had scarcely finished it when from the house there came a shrill voice, flavored with lemon without any sugar, and it said, "Mrs. Chester!"

"Excuse me," said the young lady, and immediately she went in-doors.

Here was a revelation! Mrs. Chester! Strange to say, I had not thought of her as a married woman; and yet, now that I recalled her manner of perfect self-possession, she did suggest the idea of a satisfied young wife. And Mr. Chester--what of him? Could it be possible? Hardly.

There was nothing about her to suggest a widow.

CHAPTER VII

MRS. CHESTER IS TROUBLED

I sat on that porch a good while, but she did not come out again. Why should she? n.o.body came out, and within I could hear no sound of voices. I might certainly recommend this inn as a quiet place. The Italian and the crickets continued singing and chirping, but they only seemed to make the scene more lonely.

I went in-doors. On the left hand of the hall was a door which I had not noticed before, but which was now open. There was a light within, and I saw a prettily-furnished parlor. There was a table with a lamp on it, and by the table sat the lady, Mrs. Chester. I involuntarily stopped, and, looking up, she invited me to come in. Instantly I accepted the invitation, but with a sort of an apology for the intrusion.

"Oh, this is the public parlor," she said, "although everything about this house seems private at present. We generally have families staying with us in the summer, but last week nearly all of them went away to the sea-sh.o.r.e. In a few days, however, we expect to be full again."

She immediately began to talk about Walford, for evidently the subject interested her, and I answered all her questions as well as I could.

"You may know that my husband taught that school. I was his scholar before I became his wife."

I had heard of a Mr. Chester who, before me, had taught the school, but, although the information had not interested me at the time, now it did. I wished very much to ask what Mr. Chester was doing at present, but I waited.

"I went to boarding-school after I left Walford," said she, "and so for a time lost sight of the village, although I have often visited it since."

"How long is it since Mr. Chester gave up the school there?" I asked.

This proved to be a very good question indeed. "About six years," she said. "He gave it up just before we were married. He did not like teaching school, and as the death of his father put him into the possession of some money, he was able to change his mode of life. It was by accident that we settled here as innkeepers. We happened to pa.s.s the place, and Mr. Chester was struck by its beauty. It was not an inn then, but he thought it would make a charming one, and he also thought that this sort of life would suit him exactly. He was a student, a great reader, and a lover of rural sports--such as fis.h.i.+ng and all that."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SHE BEGAN TO TALK ABOUT WALFORD"]

"Was." Here was a dim light. "Was" must mean that Mr. Chester had been. If he were living, he would still be a reader and a student.

"Did he find the new life all that he expected?" I said, hesitating a little at the word did, as it was not impossible that I might be mistaken.

"Oh yes, and more. I think the two years he spent here were the happiest of his life."

I was not yet quite sure about the state of affairs; he might be in an insane asylum, or he might be a hopeless invalid up-stairs.

"If he had lived," she continued, "I suppose this would have been a wonderfully beautiful place, for he was always making improvements.

But it is four years now since his death, and in that time there has been very little change in the inn."

I do not remember what answer I made to this remark, but I gazed out upon the situation as if it were an unrolled map.

"When you wrote your name in the book," she said, "it seemed to me as if you had brought a note of introduction, and I am sure I am very glad to be acquainted with you, for, you know, you are my husband's successor. He did not like teaching, but he was fond of his scholars, and he always had a great fancy for school-teachers. Whenever one of them stopped here--which happened two or three times--he insisted that he should be put into our best room, if it happened to be vacant, and that is the reason I have put you into it to-day."

This was charming. She was such an extremely agreeable young person that it was delightful for me to think of myself in any way as her husband's successor.

There was a step at the door. I turned and saw the elderly servant.

"Mrs. Chester," she said, "I'm goin' up," and every word was flavored with citric acid.

"Good-night," said Mrs. Chester, taking up her basket and her work.

"You know, you need not retire until you wish to do so. There is a room opposite, where gentlemen smoke."

I did not enter the big, lonely room. I went to my own chamber, which, I had just been informed, was the best in the house. I sat down in an easy-chair by the open window. I looked up to the twinkling stars.

Reading, studying, fis.h.i.+ng, beautiful country, and all that. And he did not like school-teaching! No wonder he was happier here than he had ever been before! My eyes wandered around the tastefully furnished room. "Her husband's successor," I said to myself, pondering. "He did not like school-teaching, and he was so happy here." Of course he was happy. "Died and left him some money." There was no one to leave me any money, but I had saved some for the time when I should devote myself entirely to my profession. Profession--I thought. After all, what is there in a profession? Slavery; anxiety. And he chose a life of reading, studying, fis.h.i.+ng, and everything else.