The Morgesons Part 14

"I think she is not gifted that way."

"Then I like her."

"Why should she not talk about lovers, though? The next time I see her I will bring up the subject."

"You shall think and talk of your lessons, and nothing more, I charge you. Go on, Nell," he said, in a loud voice, turning into the yard and grazing one of the gate-posts, so that we struck together. I was vexed, thinking it was done purposely, and brushed my shoulder where he came in contact, as if dust had fallen on me, and jumped out without looking at him, and ran into the house.

"Are you losing your skill in driving, Charles?" Alice asked, when we were at tea, "or is Nell too much for you? I saw you crash against the gate-post."

"Did you? My hand was not steady, and we made a lurch."

"Was there a fight at the mills last night? Jesse said so."

"Jesse must mind his business."

"He told Phoebe about it."

"I knocked one of the clerks over and sprained my wrist."

I met his eye then. "It was your right hand?" I asked.

"It was my right hand," in a deferential tone, and with a slight bow in my direction.

"Was it Parker?" she asked.

"Yes, he is a puppy; but don't talk about it."

Nothing more was said, even by Edward, who observed his father with childish gravity, I meditated on the injustice I had done him about the gate-post. After tea he busied himself in the garden among the flowers which were still remaining. I lingered in the parlor or walked the piazza with an undefined desire of speaking to him before I should go to my room. After he had finished his garden work he went to the stable; I heard the horses stepping about the floor as they were taken out for his inspection. The lamps were lighted before he came in again; Alice was upstairs as usual. When I heard him coming, I opened my book, and seated myself in a corner of a sofa; he walked to the window without noticing me, and drummed on the piano.

"Does your wrist pain you, Charles?" still reading.

"A trifle," adjusting his wristband.

"Do you often knock men down in your employ?"

"When they deserve it."

"It is a generous and manly sort of pastime."

"I am a generous man and very strong; do you know that, you little fool? Here, will you take this flower? There will be no more this year." I took it from his hand; it was a pink, faintly odorous blossom.

"I love these fragile flowers best," he continued--"where I have to protect them from my own touch, even." He relapsed into forgetfulness for a moment, and then began to study his memorandum book.

"A note from the mills, sir," said Jesse, "by one of the hands."

"Tell him to wait."

He read it, and threw it over to me. It was from Parker, who informed Mr. Morgeson that he was going by the morning's train to Boston, thinking it was time for him to leave his employ; that, though the fault was his own in the difficulty of the day before, a Yankee could not stand a knock-down. It was too d.a.m.ned aristocratic for an employer to have that privilege; our inst.i.tutions did not permit it. He thanked Mr. Morgeson for his liberality; he couldn't thank him for being a good fellow. "And would he oblige him by sending per bearer the arrears of salary?"

"Parker is in love with a factory girl. He quarreled with one of the hands because he was jealous of him, and would have been whipped by the man and his friends; to spare him that, I knocked him down. Do you feel better now, Ca.s.sy?"

"Better? How does it concern me?"

He laughed.

"Put Black Jake in the wagon," he called to Jesse.

Alice heard him and came downstairs; we went out on the _piazza_, to see him off. "Why do you go?" she asked, in an uneasy tone.

"I must. Wont you go too?"

She refused; but whispered to me, asking if I were afraid?

"Of what?"

"Men quarreling."

"Ca.s.sandra, will you go?" he asked. "If not, I am off. Jump in behind, Sam, will you?"

"Go," said Alice; and she ran in for a shawl, which she wrapped round me.

"Alice," said Charles, "you are a silly woman."

"As you have always said," she answered, laughing. "Ward the blows from him, Ca.s.sandra."

"It's a pretty dark night for a ride," remarked Sam.

"I have rode in darker ones."

"I dessay," replied Sam.

"Cover your hand with my handkerchief," I said; "the wind is cutting."

"Do you wish it?"

"No, I do not wish it; it was a humanitary idea merely."

He refused to have it covered.

The air had a moldy taint, and the wind blew the dead leaves around us. As we rode through the darkness I counted the glimmering lights which flashed across our way till we got out on the high-road where they grew scarce, and the wind whistled loud about our faces. He laid his hand on my shawl. "It is too light; you will take cold."

"No."

We reached the mills, and pulled up by the corner of a building, where a light shone through a window.

"This is my office. You must go in--it is too chilly for you to wait in the wagon. Hold Jake, Sam, till I come back."

I followed him. In the farthest corner of the room where we had seen the light, behind the desk, sat Mr. Parker, with his light hair rumpled, and a pen behind his ear.