these the curious stoppage of the library chimney was the least
interesting. I doubted whether it would ever recur. The love-affair
of Hartley Wiggins was, however, a matter of importance to me, his
friend, and I determined to make every effort to see him the next day
and learn the exact status of his affair with Cecilia Hollister.
VI
I DELIVER A MESSAGE
I was aroused at six o'clock the next morning by the sound of
gun-shots, and springing out of bed I beheld, in an open pasture beyond
the stable-yard, the indomitable Miss Hollister engaged in the pleasing
pastime of breaking clay pigeons with a fowling-piece. Her Swedish
maid stood by with a formidable pad of paper, keeping score. A boy
pulled the trap for her, and she threw up her gun and blazed away with
a practised hand. Her small, slight, tense figure, awaiting the
launching of the target, the quick up-bring of the gun as she sighted,
and the pause, following the firing of the shot, in which she bent
forward rigidly watching the result, were features of a picture which I
would not have missed. My eye could not follow the curving disc in its
flight, but when the shot told, the bursting clay made a little patch
of dust in the air that was plainly visible from where I sat. Beyond
the stable-roofs, on a broad stretch of pasture whose aftermath made a
green field about her, and against a background of the more distant
woods' tapestry, Miss Octavia Hollister was a figure to admire. And I
will write it down here and be done with it, that it has been my good
fortune to know many delightful women, but I have never known one more
interesting or charming than Miss Octavia Hollister. The spirit of
deathless youth was in her heart; and youth's gay pennants fluttered
about her, as the reports of her gun fell cheerily upon the crisp
morning air, a rebuke and a challenge to all indolent souls.
[Illustration: She threw up her gun and blazed away with a practised
hand.]
I made myself presentable as quickly as possible and went forth to
report to her. She nodded pleasantly as I greeted her immediately
after she had scored a capital shot. A second gun was produced, and I
saw that it was not without satisfaction that she observed my lack of
prowess. One out of five was the best I could do, whereas she smashed
three with the greatest ease.
On alternate mornings, she informed me, she shot glass balls with a
rifle, a sport which she declared to be superior to pigeon-shooting in
the severity of its demand upon the nerve and eye.
"If I had known you would be up so early I should have sent coffee to
your room," she remarked as we walked toward the house. "Very likely
your lack of luck with the birds is attributable entirely to the
impoverished state of your stomach."
Breakfast was served on a delightful sun-porch that I had not before
seen. Cecilia appeared promptly, having in fact been gathering fall
flowers for some time, I judged, from the considerable armful of
chrysanthemums, asters, dahlias and marigolds, which we found her
arranging for the table. She seemed in excellent spirits, and greeted
us most amiably.
"I heard the artillery booming and thought an army had descended. It's
a great regret to me, Mr. Ames, that I have never been able to make any
headway at the traps. I suffer from chronic and incurable gun-shyness.
I 'm sorry archery has gone out. I think I might have done better with
the long bow."
"Pinkle!" exclaimed Miss Hollister disdainfully. "I cured myself of
gun-shyness easily enough by having the gardener follow me about
whenever I took my daily walks, firing a gun at irregular intervals
just behind me. I was threatened with deafness when I began, but the
agitation of my tympanums by the explosions of my gun has corrected the
difficulty. I have mentioned my discovery of this remedy to a
distinguished aurist, and he is preparing a paper on the subject--not,
however, without my permission--which he expects to read shortly before
one of the most learned societies in Europe. Cecilia, the chops are
overdone again; please remind me to speak to the cook about it. If it
were not that he is so expert in detecting spurious steam-mill
corn-meal, which is constantly sold as a substitute for the Boydville
water-ground article, I should discharge him for this. An ill-broiled
chop can do much to shake one's faith in human nature. If I wanted to
eat grilled patent leather I should order it."
In spite of her sharp observations it was quite clear to me that Miss
Hollister's was the gentlest and sweetest of natures. I fully believed
that her whims were the honest expression of a revolt against the
tedious and conventional, and nothing in my later acquaintance
disturbed this opinion. It was her privilege to do as she liked, and
if she preferred cracking clay saucers with a shot-gun to knitting or
darning stockings or gossiping, it was no one's business.
The mail arrived and was placed by her plate before we left the table.
She opened first a bulky envelope containing cuttings from a clipping
bureau, and she mused aloud upon these as she read.
"This persistent story of a sunken galleon off the Bolivian coast
sounds plausible, but I fear it is the work of some bright young
journalist. Our minister in that benighted country does n't take any
stock in it. I had a cable from him yesterday. If he had given the
story credence I should have gone down at once with a steamer and crew
of divers. The imaginative young newspaper men continue romancing,
however; and it costs me five cents a clipping."
She next opened a letter that roused her to vigorous declamation.
"Cecilia," she began, "here is a letter from that Mrs. Stanford we met
in Berne. She encloses a card that indicates her wish to be called
Mrs. Appleby now, having, I believe, spent a few months since our
meeting in one of our American States where the marital tie readily
evaporates, and shaken Stanford, whom I have heard spoken of in the
highest terms by persons of character. We live in an era of horseless
carriages, wireless telegraphy, husbandless wives and wifeless
husbands. I have hit upon a formula which I am tempted to utilize
hereafter when I meet husbandless women. When they are introduced I
shall ask:--
Shaken,
Or taken?
signifying in the first instance a loss by way of Nevada, or, in the
second, through the pearlier gates of that Paradise which is the hope
of us all. Mr. Ames, as the butler has gone to sleep in the pantry,
you will kindly pass the salt."
She had handed Cecilia a number of letters, which the girl opened and
then to my surprise meekly turned over to her aunt. Miss Hollister
surveyed them critically.
"I thought," she remarked, "that that young Henderson who was so
attentive to you at Madrid was an impostor, and this note settles the
matter. He flirted outrageously with Hezekiah behind your back. He
asks if he may call upon you here. If he were the nephew of Colonel
Abner Henderson of Roanoke, as he represented himself to be, he would
not ask if he might call upon you, but would have appeared at once in
his proper person to pay his addresses. An unchivalrous and wobbly
character, who evidently expects you to make the advances. But such
are the youth of our time. And besides, Cecilia, his stationery leaves
much to be desired. As for these other gentlemen we need not discuss
them. Their actions must speak for them."
Miss Hollister, having thus dismissed her niece's correspondents, rose
and led the way to the library. Cecilia seemed in no wise depressed by
her aunt's fling at Mr. Henderson, whoever he might be, but threw the
notes upon the flames that blazed merrily in the fireplace.
I suggested immediately that as I had come to Hopefield Manor to
inspect the flues I should now be about my business; but to my surprise
Miss Hollister evinced no interest whatever in the matter. Her tone
and manner implied that the condition of her chimneys was wholly
negligible.
"There is no haste, Mr. Ames. I have suffered all my life from the
ill-considered and hurried work of professional men. Even the
clergy--and I have enjoyed the acquaintance of many--are quite reckless
in giving opinions. I once asked the Bishop of Waxahaxie--was it
Waxahaxie, Cecilia, or Tallahassee?--well, it does n't matter
anyhow--whether he honestly believed there are no women angels. He
replied with unusual frankness for one in holy orders that he did n't
know, but added that he was sure there are angel women. Just for that
impertinence I cut in two my subscription to his cathedral
building-fund. When I ask an expert opinion of an educated person I
don't intend to be put off with mere persiflage. And to return to my
chimneys, I beg that you give me the result of your most serious
deliberations. At this hour I ride; Cecilia, will you dress
immediately and accompany me?"
She disappeared at once and I stared mutely after her. I am by no
means an idler, and this cool indifference to the value of my time
would ordinarily have enraged me; but I believe I laughed, and when I
turned to Cecilia I found her smiling.
"I 'm glad, Mr. Ames, that you are a person of humor. My aunt's
conduct verifies what I said to you last night--that the flues in this
house have given us no trouble; that they have indeed had little chance
to do so in the short time we have spent here. It is true that this
one acted queerly last night, and I have wondered about its temporary
sulkiness a good deal. It will be well, of course, for you to go over
it, and all the others in the house. It is no joke that my aunt is a
believer in thoroughness, and one of these days, when she is ready to
talk of chimneys, she will subject you to a most rigid examination."
"One of these days? Why, I have looked at the time-table, and it is my
present intention to take the 12:03 into town. I have appointments at
my office for the afternoon. I assure you, Miss Hollister, that I 'm a
man of engagements, particularly at this season."
I remembered what Jewett had told me of Fortner, the painter, and his
detention at Newport by Miss Octavia Hollister. I had no intention of
being immured in any such fashion, and I was about to protest further
when Cecilia took a step toward me, and after a glance at the door
spoke in a low tone and with great earnestness.
"Mr. Ames, I have every reason to believe that you are a gentleman, and
in that confident belief I 'm going to ask a favor of you. You have
said that you know Mr. Hartley Wiggins well."
"I know no man better. You might not have inferred it from his manner
last night, but he was undoubtedly surprised and embarrassed by my
presence, and did not act quite like himself."'
"I think I understand the cause of that. If I should ask you to see
him to-day and give him a message for me, could you do so?"
"It will be an honor to serve you; and a very simple matter, as I
should see him on my own account if he is still in the neighborhood."
"He is doubtless at the Prescott Arms. My message is a verbal one.
Please urge him not to make any effort to see me, and not to call here
again. But at the same time, as the chimney smoked just as we were
about to be left alone last night, I think--I think"--she hesitated a
moment--"You may say that his interests have not been jeopardized by
his temerity in calling."
In her pause before concluding this curious commission her eyes
searched mine deeply, and I felt that she had not lightly entrusted me
with this singular errand. Her dark eyes held mine an instant after
she had spoken; then she smiled, and her face showed relief.
"Ask for anything you want. Aunt Octavia despises motors, so there 's
no car here, but you will find plenty of horses and traps. Order
whatever pleases you. I shall expect to meet you at dinner if not at
luncheon--and so"--she smiled again--"will Aunt Octavia."
She nodded to me from the door, and I heard her running lightly
upstairs.
Left to my own devices I rang the bell and ordered the library fire
extinguished and the hearth cleaned. This required a little time; but
the house man obeyed me readily, and soon, clad in my professional
overalls and jumper, I was going carefully over the flue whose behavior
had been so unaccountable the previous night. Guided by the servant I
inspected the three fireplaces in the upper chambers that were served
by flues in this chimney and finally dropped my torch and plumb-line
from the chimney-pot. Never in all my experience had I seen better
flues; but remembering my ghost at Shinnecock, I had the ashes thrown
out of the dump in the cellar and found the chute in perfect order. I
learned by inquiry that the other flues worked perfectly, but I
nevertheless scrutinized them carefully. My freedom of the house
afforded an excellent opportunity for a study of its beautiful
construction. It was modern in every sense, with no dark, mysterious
corners in which goblins might lurk. I prowled about with increasing
admiration for Pepperton, and with a deepening sense of my own failure
in the art which he adorned.
My professional labors were finished. I was quite ready for Miss
Hollister's most searching inquiries. As for the library flue, I had
decided that a little care in piling the logs in the hearth would
obviate the possibility of any recurrence of the difficulty. And I
thereupon hurried to my room, and after a tub (my vocation encouraged
frequent tubbing) chose from the stable a neat trap for one horse.
Thus equipped I set out to find Wiggins.
The Prescott Arms is an inn that sprang into being with the advent of
motoring. The tourist is advised of his approach to it by signs swung
at the crossways, and its plaster and timber walls are in plain sight
from one of the excellent state roads. Gasoline and other liquids are
offered there; one may have tea or an ampler meal on short notice; and
a few guests may be lodged in case of necessity. I remembered it well,
having several times found it a haven on motor-flights with friends.
As I drove into the entrance I saw Wiggins pacing the long veranda. He
waved a hand and came out to meet me, and when I had rid myself of the
trap he suggested that we take a walk.
[Illustration: As I drove into the entrance.]
His manner was not cordial, and he wore the haggard look of a man on
bad terms with his pillow. I attributed his appearance to
preoccupation with his love-affair. When we had withdrawn a little way
from the inn he turned on me sharply.
"Well?" he demanded.
"Well," I laughed.
"Oh, you needn't take that tone about it! Your being here is something
that requires explanation; and your being _there_"--he flung out his
arm toward Hopefield Manor--"your presence there is not a laughing
matter."
"My dear Wiggins, I came here in a spirit of friendship, and you treat
me like a pickpocket. I must say that if you had not acted like a clam
the other night at the club, but had told me what was in the wind, we
might not be meeting now like ancient enemies instead of old and
intimate friends."
He vouchsafed no reply, but threw himself down under a scarlet maple
and began to whittle a stick, while I went on with my story.
"I met Miss Octavia Hollister in the Asolando the day after our last
dinner at the club. I had dropped into the tea-room merely to look at
the place again. I had never seen her before in all my life. She is a
whimsical old lady--but a lady, you must admit that--and we exchanged
cards. On learning my occupation she at once declared that I must come
up here to look at her chimneys. She made an appointment by mail for
yesterday afternoon. It is not my fault that she treated me like a
guest, or that she introduced me of necessity to her niece Cecilia.
And now I have finished my work, and after I have made my report I
shall probably not meet her again. As for Miss Cecilia Hollister, I
can only say, my dear Wiggins, that she is a rarely beautiful woman,
and that if you wish to marry her you have my very best wishes for your
success and happiness."
"It struck me that you were pretty well established there," he blurted.
"I confess that I took it for granted you were not there wholly on a
professional errand; and I won't deny, Ames, that I was not pleased to
see you."
"You honor me in assuming that I might aspire to the hand of so
splendid a woman as Cecilia Hollister; but, my dear Wiggins, I tell you
I never laid eyes on her until last night."
"But you had been to the Asolando," he persisted, hacking away doggedly
at his stick.
"Of course I had. I told you I had. I told you the whole story. But
I did not see Cecilia Hollister there. She was n't there! I fancy
that after you saw her there last spring and became infatuated with her
and followed her to Europe instead of going to Dakota to harvest your
blooming wheat--after that bit of history she never returned to the
Asolando. Your lack of frankness in all this has pained me. And you
left it for a gossiping chap like Jewett to tell me the whole story.
And to cap your duplicity you sneaked out of the club the other night
while Jewett was talking to me and let the club people think you were
bound for your ranch. I call it rather low down, Wiggins, after all
the years we have known each other. My slate is clean; how about
yours?"
He threw the stick at a sparrow whose chirp irritated him from a stone
fence beyond us, and turned toward me a countenance on which dejection,
humiliation, and chagrin were written large.
"Damn it all!" he bellowed, "I believe I 'm losing my mind. I don't
know what I 'm doing. That old woman up there is responsible for all
this. She 's as crazy as a March hare,--crazier! And she 's made a
prisoner of that girl. I tell you Cecilia Hollister is the grandest
girl in the world."
"Go it, son! Those descendants of Caesar's legions at work in the road
down there are pausing to listen. Try to affect calmness if you don't
feel it. I agree to all you say of Miss Cecilia. And please get it
into your noddle that I have no intention of becoming your rival for
her hand. But I must beg of you also not to speak in such terms of her
aunt. She 's the most delightful woman I ever met."
"Mad, I tell you, quite mad!"
"Wise,--with the most beautiful wisdom; you simply don't understand
her."
"I know all I want to about her. If she were not insane she would not
build a wall of mystery about her niece and keep me camping out here
not knowing where I stand. I tell you, Ames, that woman is a
malevolent being; she 's perfectly fiendish."
There is no way of answering a man in this humor save by laughter; and
I laughed long and loud, to the consternation of the Italian
road-laborers who were now swallowing their luncheons a short distance
away from us.
Wiggins sulked awhile and then addressed me seriously.
"I didn't tell you I was going abroad, because the situation made
explanations difficult. I could hardly tell you that I was about to
race over Europe after a waitress I had seen in a tea-room. You 're
always so confoundedly suspicious. It would have an odd sound even now
if she were--well, if she were a waitress instead of what you know her
to be. And my animosity toward Miss Octavia Hollister is due to the
fact that after I had been as courteous to her all summer long as I
could, and thought myself tolerably established in her mind as a decent
person and a gentleman, she suddenly shuts Cecilia up in that
house,--bought it on purpose, I fancy,--and Cecilia herself is
compelled to take on an air of mystery, warning me to keep away,
suggesting the darkest possibilities, but giving me no hint whatever of
the reason for her conduct."
"Let us confine ourselves to Miss Octavia for a moment. While you were
acting as cavalier to her party abroad she was friendly; then she
suddenly changed. Now there must be some explanation of that."
"Well, for one thing, she flew off at a tangent about my ancestors. We
were in Berlin on the Fourth of July and got to talking about the
American revolution. She asked me what my people had done for the
patriotic cause. The painful fact is that most of them were Tories;
but my great-grandfather broke with his father and brothers, joined
Washington's army, and fought through the whole business. But to save
the feelings of the rest of them, who went to England till it was all
over, he changed his name. There's no mention of him in the war
records anywhere. I've had experts working on it, but they can't find
any trace of him. He was greatly embittered by the estrangement from
his people, and though he had a farm in this very neighborhood
somewhere--I 've thought sometime I 'd look it up and try to get hold
of it--he never mentioned his military experiences even to his own
children. Usually Miss Hollister changes front if you give her time.
I've heard her say that we'd have been better off if we'd never broken
with England; but she persists in prodding that weak place in my armor."
"That's very dark, Wiggy. If she keeps it up you'll have to dig up
your great-grandfather someway. The spiritualists might call him on
long distance. But let us turn to Miss Cecilia. I don't for a moment
believe that she is a victim of ancestor worship. The perambulator
rampant adorns the Hollister shield to the exclusion of everything
else. From what you say Cecilia has not repelled you; on the other
hand she has frankly given you to understand that you must not press
your suit at this time for reasons she sees fit to withhold. A little
more patience, a little calm deliberation and less violent language,
and in due course the girl is yours. Now what do you fancy is the
cause of Cecilia's abrupt change of attitude?"
He refused to meet my eyes, but turned away as though to conceal an
embarrassment whose cause I could not surmise. When he spoke it was in
a voice husky with emotion.
"Am I a cad? Am I beneath the contempt of decent people?"
"It's possible, Wiggy, that you are. Go on with it."
"Well, you know," he began diffidently, "Cecilia has a sister."
I grinned, but his scowl brought me to myself again.
"Yes. And her name is Hezekiah. The name pleases me."
"She was with Miss Octavia in her gallop over Europe, so I saw a good
deal of her necessarily. She is younger than Cecilia; she's a good
deal of a kid,--the sort that never grows up, you know."
"Just like her aunt Octavia!"
"Bah! Don't mention that woman. Hezekiah is a very pretty girl; and I
suppose,--well, when you are thrown with a girl that way, seeing her
constantly"--
I clapped my hand on his knee as the light began to dawn upon me.
"You old rascal, you don't need to add a single word! I dare say you
are guilty. I can see it in your eye. After waiting till you reached
years of discretion before beginning an attack upon womankind, you
began mowing them down in platoons. So they come running now that you
've got a start. Oh, Wiggy, and I believed you immune! And you 're
trying to drive 'em tandem."
The thing was funny, knowing Wiggins as I did, and I gave expression to
my mirth; but his fierce demeanor quickly brought me back to the
serious contemplation of his difficulty.
"That, you shameless wretch, would be a sufficient reason for Miss
Octavia's aloofness,--your double-faced dealing with her nieces? You
confirm my impression that she is a wise woman. And Cecilia, I take
it, may be deeply embarrassed by her sister's infatuation for you. You
certainly have made a tangle of things, you heart-wrecker, you
conscienceless deceiver! But where, may I ask, does this Hezekiah keep
herself?"
"Oh, she's with her father. They have a bungalow over the hills there,
several miles from Hopefield Manor."
"Well, I hope you are no longer toying with her affections. Of course
you don't see her any more?"
"Well," he mumbled, "I did see her this morning. But I could n't help
it. It was the merest chance. I met her in the road when I was out
taking a walk. She 's always turning up,--she's the most unaccountable
young person."
"I suppose, Wiggy, that if you stand in the road and Miss Hezekiah
Hollister strolls by on her way to market, you fancy that she is
pursuing you. As Miss Octavia has well said, this is not a chivalrous
age. I 'm deeply disappointed in you. Your conduct and your attitude
toward this trusting young girl are disgraceful."
He rose and flung up his arms despairingly. It was much easier to
laugh at Wiggins than to be angry at him; but I recalled the message
which Cecilia had entrusted to me, and this, I thought, might give him
some comfort.
"Miss Cecilia asked me this morning to say to you that you must not try
to see her again; you must keep away from the house."
This obviously increased his dejection.