Dorian Part 15

"Drive?"

"No; I'm walking."

"Then you'll ride with us. Plenty of room. Glad to have you."

"Thank you, I--"

"Yes, come," urged Carlia.

Dorian hesitated. He tried to carry an independent manner, but Mr.

Lamont linked his arm sociably with Dorian's as he said:

"Of course you'll ride home with us; but first we'll have a little ice cream."

"No thanks," Dorian managed to say. What more did this fellow want of him?

However, as Dorian could give no good reason why he should not ride home with them, he found no way of refusing to accompany them to a nearby ice-cream parlor. Mr. Lamont gave the order, and was very attentive to Carlia and Dorian. It was he who kept the flow of conversation going.

The other two, plainly, were not adept at this.

"What did you think of the show, Mr. Trent?"

"The moving pictures are wonderful, but I did not like the story very much."

"It was rotten," exclaimed the other in seeming disgust. I did not know what was on, or I should not have gone. Last week they had a fine picture, a regular cla.s.sic. Did you see it?

"No; in fact, this is my first visit."

"Oh, indeed. This is Miss Duke's second visit only."

Under the bright lights Carlia showed rouge on her cheeks, something Dorian had never seen on her before. Her lips seemed redder than ever, and he eyes shone with a bright l.u.s.ter. Mr. Lamont led them to his automobile, and then Dorian remembered the night when this same young man with the same automobile had stopped near Carlia's home. Carlia seated herself with the driver, while Dorian took the back seat. They were soon speeding along the road which led to Greenstreet. The cool night air fanned Dorian's hot face. Conversation ceased. Even Carlia and the driver were silent. The moon peeped over the eastern hills. The country-side was silent. Dorian thought of the strange events of the evening. This Mr. Lamont had not only captured Carlia but Dorian also.

"If I were out with a girl," reasoned Dorian, "I certainly wouldn't want a third person along if I could help it." Why should this man be so eager to have his company? Dorian did not understand, not then.

In a short time they drove up to Carlia's gate, and she and Dorian alighted. The driver did not get out. The machine purred as if impatient to be off again and the lamps threw their streams of light along the road.

"Well, I shall have to be getting back," said Mr. Lamont. "Goodnight, Miss Duke. Thanks for your company. Goodnight, Mr. Trent; sure glad to have met you."

The machine glided into the well-worn road and was off. The two stood looking at it for a moment. Then Carlia moved toward the house.

"Come in" she said.

He mechanically followed. He might as well act the fool to the end of the chapter, he thought. It was eleven by the parlor clock, but the mother seemed greatly relieved when she saw Dorian with her daughter.

Carlia threw off her wraps. She appeared ill at ease. Her gaiety was forced. She seemed to be acting a part, but she was doing it poorly.

Dorian was not only ill at ease himself, but he was bewildered. He seated himself on the sofa. Carlia took a chair on the other side of the room and gazed out of the window into the night.

"Carlia, why did you--why do you," he stammered.

"Why shouldn't I?" she replied, somewhat defiantly as if she understood his unfinished question.

"You know you should not. It's wrong. Who is he anyway?"

"He at least thinks of me and wants to show me a good time, and that's more than anybody else does."

"Carlia!"

"Well, that's the truth." She arose, walked to the table in the middle of the room and stood challengingly before him. "Who are you to find fault? What have you done to--"

"I'll admit I've done very little; but you, yourself."

"Never mind me. What do you care for me? What does anybody care?"

"Your mother, at least."

"Yes, mother; poor, dear mother.... Oh, my G.o.d, I can't stand it, I can't stand it!" With a sob she broke and sank down by the table, hiding her face in her arms. Dorian arose to go to her. The door opened, and the mother appeared.

"What is it, Carlia," she asked in alarm.

The girl raised her head, swiftly dashed the tears from her eyes, then with a sad effort to smile, said:

"Nothing, mother, nothing at all. I'm going to bed. Where's father?"

"He was called out to Uncle Zed's who is sick. Dorian's mother is there with him too, I understand."

"Then I'd better go for her," said the young man. "I'll say goodnight.

Poor Uncle Zed; he hasn't been well lately. Goodnight Sister Duke, goodnight Carlia."

Carlia stood in the doorway leading to the stairs. "Goodnight, Dorian,"

she said. "Forgive me for being so rude."

He stepped toward her, but she motioned him back, and than ran up the carpetless stairs to her room. Dorian went out in the night. With a heavy heart he hurried down the road in the direction of Uncle Zed's home.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Uncle Zed's illness did not prove fatal, though it was serious enough.

In a few days he was up and about again, slowly, quietly providing for his simple needs. However, it was plainly evident that he had nearly come to the end of his earthly pilgrimage.

After the most pressing fall work had been disposed of, Dorian spent as much of his spare time as possible with the old man, who seemed to like the company of the younger man better than anyone else in the village; and Dorian, for his part, took delight in visiting with him, in helping him with the heaviest of his not heavy ch.o.r.es. Especially, was it pleasant during the lengthening evening with a small fire and the lamp newly trimmed. Uncle Zed reclined in his easy chair, while Dorian sat by the table with books and papers. Their conversations ranged from flower gardens to dry-farms, and from agnosticism to the highest degrees of the celestial glory. And how they both reveled in books and their contents on the occasions when they were alone and unhampered by the unsympathetic minds of others.

"As you see, Dorian," said Uncle Zed on one such Sunday evening, "my collection of books is not large, but they are such that I can read and read again."

"Where is your 'Drummond's Natural Law'?" asked Dorian.

Uncle Zed looked about. "I was reading it this morning. There it is on the window." Dorian fetched him the volume.

"When I read Drummond's work," continued the old man, "I feel keener than ever my lack of scientific knowledge. I have always had a desire to delve into nature's laws through the doors of botany, zoology, mineralogy, chemistry, and all the other sciences. I have obtained a smattering only through my reading. I realize that the great ocean of truth is yet before me who am now an old man and can never hope in this life to explore much further."