King Spruce Part 3

"It might be well to save our discussion of Mr. Dustin until that impetuous suitor has shown that he wants to marry me," she remarked, with a little acid in her tone.

"He has come to me like a gentleman, told me what he wants, and asked my permission," stated Mr. Barrett.

"Following a strictly business rule characteristic of Mr. Dustin--'Will you marry your timber lands to my saw-mill, Mr. John Barrett, one daughter thrown in?'"

"At least he didn't come sneaking around by the back door!" cried her father, jarred out of his earlier determination to probe the matter craftily.

"Intimating thereby that I have an affair of the heart with the iceman or the grocery boy?" she inquired, tartly.

She was looking full at him now with all the Barrett resoluteness s.h.i.+ning in her eyes. And he, with only the vague and malicious promptings of Pulaski Britt for his credentials, had not the courage to make the charge that was on his tongue, for his heart rejected it now that he was looking into her face.

"In the old times stern parents married off daughters as they would dispose of farm stock," she said, whipping her pony with a little unnecessary vigor. "But I had never learned that the custom had obtained in the Barrett family. Therefore, father, we will talk about something more profitable than Mr. Dustin."

Outside the city, in the valley where the road curved to enter the gates of "Oaklands," they met Dwight Wade returning, chastened by self-communion.

Barrett did not look at the young man. He kept his eyes on his daughter's face as she returned Wade's bow. He saw what he feared. The fires of indignation quickly left the dark eyes. There was the softness of a caress in her gaze. Love displayed his crimson flag on her cheeks.

She spoke in answer to Wade's salutation, and even cast one shy look after him when he had pa.s.sed. When she took her eyes from him she found her father's hard gaze fronting her.

"Do you know that fellow?" he demanded, brusquely.

"Yes," she said, her composure not yet regained; "when he was a student at Burton and I was at the academy I met him often at receptions."

"What is that academy, a sort of matrimonial bureau?" His tone was rough.

"It is not a nunnery," she retorted, with spirit. "The ordinary rules of society govern there as they do here in Stillwater."

"Elva," he said, emotion in his tones, "since your mother died you have been mistress of the house and of your own actions, mostly. Has that fellow there been calling on you?"

"He has called on me, certainly. Many of my school friends have called.

Since he has been princ.i.p.al of the high-school I have invited him to 'Oaklands.'"

"You needn't invite him again. I do not want him to call on you."

"For what reason, father?" She was looking straight ahead now, and her voice was even with the evenness of contemplated rebellion.

"As your father, I am not obliged to give reasons for all my commands."

"You are obliged to give me a reason when you deny a young gentleman of good standing in this city our house. An unreasonable order like that reflects on my character or my judgment. I am the mistress of our home, as well as your daughter."

"It's making gossip," he floundered, dimly feeling the unwisdom of quoting Pulaski Britt.

"Who is gossiping, and what is the gossip?" she insisted.

"I don't care to go into the matter," he declared, desperately. "If the young man is nothing to you except an acquaintance, and I have reasons of my own for not wanting him to call at my house, I expect you to do as I say, seeing that his exclusion will not mean any sacrifice for you."

He was dealing craftily. She knew it, and resented it.

"I do not propose to sacrifice any of my friends for a whim, father. If your reasons have anything to do with my personal side of this matter, I must have them. If they are purely your own and do not concern me, I must consider them your whim, unless you convince me to the contrary, and I shall not be governed in my choice of friends. That may sound rebellious, but a father should not provoke a daughter to rebellion. You ought to know me too well for that."

They were at the house, and he threw himself out of the phaeton and tramped in without reply. During their supper he preserved a resentful silence, and at the end went up-stairs to his den to think over the whole matter. It had suddenly a.s.sumed a seriousness that puzzled and frightened him. He had been routed in the first encounter. He resolved to make sure of his ground and his facts--and win.

Usually he did not notice who came or who went at his house. The still waters of his confidence in his daughter had never been troubled until the Honorable Pulaski D. Britt had breathed upon them.

This evening, when he heard a caller announced, he tiptoed to the head of the stairs and listened.

It was Dwight Wade, and at sight of him his pride took alarm, his anger flared. After the afternoon's exasperating talk, this seemed like open and insulting contempt for his authority. It was as though the man were plotting with a disobedient daughter to flout him as a father. His purpose of calm thought was swept away by an unreasoning wrath.

Muttering venomous oaths, he stamped down the stairs, whose carpet made his approach stealthy, though he did not intend it, and he came upon the two as Wade, his great love spurred by the day's opposition, despondent in the present, fearing for the future, reached out his longing arms and took her to his heart.

They faced him as he stood and glowered upon them, a pathetic pair, clinging to each other.

"You sneaking thief!" roared Barrett.

The girl did not draw away. Wade felt her trembling hands seeking his, and he pressed them and kept her in the circle of his arm.

"I don't care to advertise this," Barrett went on, choking with his rage, "but there's just one way to treat you, you thief, and that's to have you kicked out of the house. Elva, up-stairs with you!"

She gently put away her lover's arm, but she remained beside him, strong in her woman's courage.

"I have always been proud of my father as a gentleman," she said. "It hurts my faith to have you say such things under your own roof."

"That pup has come under my roof to steal," raged the millionaire, "and he's got to take the consequences. Don't you read me my duty, girl!"

Even Barrett in his wrath had to acknowledge that simple manliness has potency against pride of wealth. Wade took two steps towards him, the instinctive movement of the male that protects his mate.

"Mr. Barrett," he said, gravely, "give me credit for honest intentions.

If it is a fault to love your daughter with all my heart and soul, I have committed that fault. For me it's a privilege--an honor that you can't prevent."

"What! I can't regulate my own daughter's marriage, you young hound?"

"You misunderstand me, Mr. Barrett. You cannot prevent me from loving her, even though I may never see nor speak to her again."

And Elva, blus.h.i.+ng, tremulous, yet determined, looked straight in her father's eyes, saying, "And I love him."

Barrett realized that his anger was making a sorry figure compared with this young man's resolute calmness. With an effort he held himself in check.

"We won't argue the love side of this thing," he said, grimly. "I haven't any notion of doing that with a nineteen-year-old girl and a pauper. But I want to inform you, young man, that the marriage of John Barrett's only child and heir is a matter for my judgment to control.

I'm taking it for granted that you are not sneak enough to run away with her, even if you have stolen her affections."

The millionaire understood his man. He had calculated the effect of the sneer. He knew how New England pride may be spurred to conquer pa.s.sion.

"These are wicked insults, sir," said the young man, his face rigid and pale, "but I don't deserve them."

"I tell you here before my daughter that I have plans for her future that you shall not interfere with. This is no country school-ma'am, down on your plane of life--this is Elva Barrett, of 'Oaklands,' a girl who has temporarily lost her good sense, but who is nevertheless my daughter and my heiress. She will remember that in a little while. Take yourself out of the way, young man!"

The girl's eyes blazed. Her face was transfigured with grief and love.

She was about to speak, but Wade hastened to her and took her hand.

"Good-night, Elva."