THE SIREN AND THE IRON
The summer, the Dranes, La Fleur, and Miriam had all left Cobhurst. The
summer had gone south for an eight months' stay; the Dranes had gone to
their old Pennsylvania home to settle up their affairs, and prepare for
the marriage of the younger lady, which was to take place early in the
coming spring; La Fleur had returned to the Tolbridges' to remain until
the new Cobhurst household should be organized; and Miriam, whose
association with Dora and Cicely had aroused her somewhat dormant
aspirations in an educational direction, had gone to Mrs. Stone's school
for the winter term.
November had come to Cobhurst, and there Ralph remained to get his farm
ready for the winter, and his house in order for the bride who would come
with the first young leaves. He did not regret this period of solitary
bachelorhood, for not having very much money, he required a good deal of
time to do what was to be done.
He had planned a good deal of refitting for the house, although not so
much as to deprive it of any of those characteristics which made it dear
old Cobhurst. And there were endless things to do on the farm, the most
important of which, in his eyes, was the breaking of the pair of colts,
which task he intended to take into his own hands. Mrs. Browning and the
gig were very well in their places, but something more would be needed
when the green leaves came.
Seraphina, Mike's sister, now ruled in the kitchen, but Ralph's thoughts
had acquired such a habit of leaving the subject on which he was engaged
and flying southward, that even when he took a meal with the Tolbridges,
which happened not infrequently, he scarcely noticed the difference
between their table and his own. Nothing stronger than this could be said
regarding his present power of abstracting his mind from surrounding
circumstances.
His income was a limited one, although it had been a good deal helped by
the products of his farm, and he had to do a great deal of calculating
with his pencil before he dared to order work which would oblige him to
draw a check with his pen. But by thus giving two dollars' worth of
thought to every dollar of expenditure, he made his money go a long way,
and the lively and personal interest he took in every little improvement,
made a garden fence to him of as much importance and satisfaction as a
new post-office would have been to the people of Thorbury.
One day he went into a hardware store of the town to buy some nails, and
there he met Miss Panney, who had just purchased a corkscrew.
"A thing you will not want for some time," she said, "for you do not look
as if you needed anything to cheer your soul. Now tell me, young man, is
it really the engagement rapture that has lasted all this time?"
"Oh, yes," said Ralph, laughing, "and besides that I have had all sorts
of good fortune. For instance, one of my hens, setting unbeknown to
anybody in a warm corner of the barn, has hatched out a dozen little
chicks. Think of that at this season! I have put them in a warm room, and
by the time we begin housekeeping we shall have spring chickens to eat
before anybody else. And then there is that black colt, Dom Pedro. I had
great doubts about him, because he showed such decided symptoms of free
will, but now he is behaving beautifully. He has become thoroughly
reconciled to a haycart. I have driven him in a light wagon with his
sister, and he is just as good as she is, and yesterday I drove him
single, and find that he has made up his mind to learn everything I can
teach him. Now isn't that a fine thing?"
"Oh, yes," said Miss Panney, "it must be such things as those that make
your eyes sparkle! But of course it warms your heart to give her delicate
eating when she first comes to you, and to have a fine pair of horses for
her to drive behind. If your face beams as it does now while she is
away, it will serve as an electric light when she comes back. Good
fortune! Oh, yes, of course, you consider that you have it in full
measure. But we are sometimes apt to look on our friends' good fortune in
an odd way. Now, if I had wanted you to go to Boston to get rich, and
instead of that you had insisted on going to Nantucket, and had become
rich there, I suppose that I should have been satisfied as long as you
were prosperous, but I do not believe I would have been; at least, not
entirely so. In this world we do want people to do what we think they
ought to do."
"Yes," said Ralph, knowingly, "I see. But now, Miss Panney, don't you
really think that Boston would have been too rich a place for me? That it
would have expected too much of me, and that perhaps it would have done
too much for me? Boston is a good enough place, but if you only knew how
much lovelier Nantucket is--"
"Stop, stop, boy!" said the old lady. "I am getting so old now, that I am
obliged to stop happy people and disappointed people from talking to me.
If I listened to all they had to say, I should have no time for anything
else. By the way, have you heard any news from the Bannister family? That
sedate Herbert is going to be married, and he intends to live with his
wife in the Bannister mansion."
"And how will his sister like that?" asked Ralph.
"She won't like it at all. She has told me she is going away."
"I am sorry for that," he said. "That is too bad."
"Not at all. She could not do better. A girl like that in a town such as
Thorbury, with nobody to marry her but the rector, is as much out of
place as a canary bird in a poultry yard. I have advised her to visit her
relatives in town, and go with them to Europe, where I hope she will
marry a prince. Good conscience! Look at her! Imagine that girl in a
sweeping velvet robe with one great diamond blazing on her breast."
Ralph turned quickly, and as his eyes fell upon Dora, as she entered the
store, it struck him that no royal gowns could make her more beautiful
than she was at that moment.
"Now, my dear," said Miss Panney, "what did you come here for? Do you
want a saw or a pitchfork?"
"I came," said Dora, with her most charming smile, "because I saw you two
in here, and I wanted to speak to you. It is a funny place for this sort
of thing, but I do not see either of you very often, now, and I thought I
would like to tell you, before you heard it from any one else, of my
engagement."
"To whom?" cried Miss Panney, in a voice that made the ox-chains rattle.
Dora looked around anxiously, but there was no one in the front part of
the store.
"To Mr. Ames," she replied.
"The rector!" exclaimed Ralph.
"Yes," said Dora; "I want to write to Miriam about it, and do you know I
have lost her address."
"Dora Bannister," interrupted Miss Panney, "it may be a little early to
make bridal presents, but I want to give you this corkscrew. It is a
very good one, and I think that after a while you will have need of it.
Good morning."
When the old lady had abruptly departed, the two young people laughed,
and Ralph offered his congratulations.
"I do not know Mr. Ames very well," he said, "but I have heard no end of
good of him. But this is very surprising. It seems--"
"Seems what?" asked Dora.
"Well, since you ask me," Ralph answered, hesitating a little, "it seems
odd, not, perhaps, that you should marry the rector, but that you should
marry anybody. You appear to me too young to marry."
"Oh, indeed!" said Dora; "you think that?"
"I do not know that you understand me," said Ralph, "but I mean that you
are so full of youth--and all that, and enjoy life so much, that it is
a pity that you should not have more of youthful enjoyment before you
begin any other kind."
Dora laughed.
"Truly," said she, "I never looked at the matter in that light. Perhaps I
ought to have done so. You think me too young, and if you had had a
chance, perhaps you would have warned me! You are so kind and so
considerate, but don't you think you ought to speak to Mr. Ames about it?
He does not know you very well, but he has heard no end of good of you,
and perhaps what you say might make him reflect."
As she spoke she looked at him with her eyes not quite so wide open as
usual. Ralph returned her gaze steadfastly.
"I know what you are thinking of," he said. "You are thinking of a fable
with an animal in it and some fruit, and the animal was a small one, and
the fruit was on a high trellis."
"Oh, dear," said Dora. "It must be very nice to have read as much as you
have, and to know fables and all sorts of things to refer to. But my life
hasn't been long enough for all that."
The more Ralph's mind dwelt upon the matter, the more dissatisfied did he
feel that this beautiful young creature should marry the rector. If, in
truth, she applied the fable to him, this was all the more reason why he
should feel sorry for her. If anything of all this showed itself in his
eyes, he did not know it, but Dora's eyes opened to their full width, and
grew softer.
"I expect I surprise you," she said, "by talking to you of these things,
but I have so few friends to confide in. Herbert is wrapped up in his
own engagement, and Mrs. Bannister is entirely apart from me. Almost
ever since I have known you two, I have felt that Miriam and you were
friends with whom I could talk freely, and I am now going to tell you,
and I know you will never mention it, that I do not believe I shall ever
marry Mr. Ames."
"What!" exclaimed Ralph. "Didn't you say you were engaged to him?"
"Of course I said so; and I am, and I was very glad to be able to say it
to Miss Panney, for she is always bothering me about such things; but
the engagement is a peculiar one. Mr. Ames has been coming to see me for
a long time, and I think it was because he heard that I was planning to
go away that he decided to declare himself at once, before he lost his
opportunity. I told him that I had never thought of anything of the sort;
but he was very insistent, and at last I consented, provided the
engagement should be a long one, and that, if after I had seen more of
the world and knew myself better, I should decide to change my mind, I
must be allowed to do so. He fought terribly against this, but there was
nothing for him to do but agree, and so now we are engaged on
approbation, as it were. This is a great relief to me in various ways,
because I feel as if I were safely anchored, and not drifting about
whichever way the wind blows, while other people are sailing where they
want to; and yet, whenever I please, I can loosen my anchor, and spread
my sails, and skim away over the beautiful sea."
It is seldom that a siren, leaning lightly against a bright new
hay-cutter, with a background of iron rakes and hoes and spades, sings
her soft song. But it was so now, and Dora, her heart beating quickly,
looked from under her long lashes to note the effect of her words.
"If he will drop the little Drane," she said to herself, "I will drop
the rector."
But Ralph stood looking past her. It was as plain as could be that he was
not approaching the rocks; that he did not like the song; and that he was
thinking what he should say about it.
"Oh, dear," said Dora, suddenly starting. "I have ever so much to do
this morning, and it must be nearly noon. I wonder what made that queer
Miss Panney think of giving me this corkscrew."
Ralph knew very well that the old lady meant the little implement as a
figurative auxiliary of consolation, but he merely remarked that Miss
Panney did and gave very queer things. He opened the door for her, and
she bade him good-by and went out.
She crossed the street, and when on the opposite sidewalk, she turned her
luminous eyes back upon the glass doors she had passed through.
But there was no one looking out after her. Ralph was standing at the
counter, buying nails.