eyes were unusually brilliant. I knew that she fully realized that the
crisis was near, but she asked no questions and her manner reassured me
of her confidence. We idled on the stone terrace above the
frost-smitten garden, which in its ruin still satisfied the eye with
color. I had purposely drawn some chairs to a corner well screened by
vines, so that I could note the approach of any visitors who came cross
country by way of the stile.
We were hardly seated before Dick entered the garden, followed
immediately by the six other suitors I had last seen at the inn. They
ranged themselves on a stone bench facing the house at the end of one
of the paths. They wore sack coats and hats in a variety of styles, so
that they did not present quite the bizarre effect produced by their
frock coats and silk tiles. They surveyed the house sadly, bowed their
heads upon their sticks, and seemed to have come to stay. The siege,
then, had become a practical matter!
"Why don't the gentlemen come in?" asked Cecilia, peering through the
vines.
"Hush! There's a rumor that you are terribly ill; they've come merely
to pay their tribute of respect by waiting in the garden. You had
better go quietly into the house. The shock of seeing you in your
usual health might be too much for them."
"But I can't! I must be accessible at all times," she cried, looking
helplessly from me to Pepperton, who was all at sea for an explanation.
"If that impression is abroad, I shall appear at once."
"Then you and Pepperton must patrol the terrace here; you are lovers
for all I know. Ignore them utterly in your absorption with one
another. If any one approaches you, Pepperton, ask Miss Hollister to
marry you."
"Me!" gasped Pepperton.
"No; it can't be done that way," Cecilia interposed. "Mr. Pepperton
has told me of his engagement. I can't be party to a fraud, a trick.
I can't countenance it at all. It would ruin everything!"
"Then stay right here; pace back and forth, and I'll manage the rest.
I don't for the life of me know how, but I'll do it."
As Cecilia and Pepperton stepped from behind the screen of vines, the
men on the benches lifted their heads; then I heard murmurs of
amazement and chagrin, and caught a fleeting glimpse of Dick tearing
through the hedge with his late companions tumbling after in fierce
pursuit.
I ran to the stable and found a horse, feeling that I must be in a
position to move rapidly if I saw Wiggins approaching. If Dick eluded
his wrathful pursuers he would be on the lookout somewhere, awaiting
his own time, and if he saw Wiggins rushing madly for the house, he
might yet circumvent us.
I satisfied myself that Cecilia and Pepperton were still plainly
visible from the garden, and I knew that for the time she was safe. I
gained the high point in the road from which Hezekiah and I had
observed Dick on guard at noon, and waited. Remembering the fine
figure the philosopher had made against the sky, I dismounted and
rested by a stone wall where I could watch with less risk of being seen
from a distance.
I at once saw matters that interested me immensely. Dick had thrown
off the other suitors, and was rapidly crossing the fields toward
Hopefield. When I caught sight of him, he was just leaving the orchard
where Hezekiah and I had held our memorable interview. A long stretch
of rough pasture lay before him, and he settled down to a quick trot.
He took several fences without lessening his gait, crossed the stile
like a flash a little later, and was out of sight.
As I turned to my horse I heard the swift patter of hoofs, and saw a
man and woman galloping furiously toward me. They were rapidly nearing
the ridge, and their horses were springing over the firm white road in
prodigious leaps. Wiggins had got my message; Hezekiah had met him in
the road and was urging him on! Here indeed was a situation to stir
the heart, and the blood sang in my ears as I watched them. I waved my
arm as they checked their horses for the long climb. The riders had
lost their hats in their mad race, and Wiggins's horse was nearly done
for. As they came still nearer, I saw that Wiggins had taken fire at
last.
"Orton said some one was killed,--who--what--who"--
"I just picked him up five minutes ago; he doesn't know anything," said
Hezekiah; "and you dare n't tell him--remember the rules! What's
doing?" she inquired coolly.
She bade Wiggins exchange horses with her, and while he was readjusting
the saddle-girths I explained to Hezekiah the situation at Hopefield
and told her of Dick's scamper across the fields.
"There's no use fooling with this thing any more. I'll take Wiggy to
the house and lock him up until I 've been numbered six,--it's safest."
"Not much it isn't. I don't intend that Cecilia shall have the
pleasure of refusing you."
"I'd like to know why not. It's only to fill the gap."
"Oh!" said Hezekiah, "that would be an embarrassment to me all the rest
of my life. Listen carefully. Take Wiggy in by the back way, and give
him a picture-book to look at. Leave Cecilia alone on the terrace when
you're all ready, and see what happens. If Dick's on his way to the
house he's going to do something, and he must feel the edge of my
displeasure. I owe him a few on general principles."
"What does all this mean? You say there 's nothing wrong at the
house?" began Wiggins as we left Hezekiah and started toward Hopefield.
"Nothing whatever the matter; everything perfectly all right; but
you've got to keep mum now and do what I tell you. I've worked hard
for you, old man, and when it's all over I'm going to send you a bill
for professional services. Come!"
I urged my horse to his utmost, and Wiggins rode steadily beside me.
The fright Orton had given him had done my friend good, and I felt that
I was dealing with a live man at last. Our speed did not permit
conversation, but feeling that Wiggins was entitled to some further
assurance, I waited until we were climbing our last hill to add a word.
"I'll tell you all about this after we have a good-night cigar
to-night. You know I told you I was going to help, and if nothing goes
wrong and Hezekiah does n't fail, you will see the world with new eyes
before you sleep."
We rode direct to the stable, and I took Wiggins to my room by the back
stairs and bade him help himself to my raiment. He was perfectly
tractable, and I was glad to see that he trusted implicitly to my
guidance.
I met Miss Octavia in the lower hall. She was just in from the
kennels. Her new Airedale was a perfect specimen of the breed, she
declared, and she announced her intention of exhibiting him at all the
reputable bench shows in America.
"I hope, Arnold, that you have not been without entertainment to-day."
"Miss Hollister, the three musketeers were fat monks asleep under the
sunny wall of a monastery compared with me!"
"I am glad you are not bored. By the way, if you should by any chance
see Hezekiah, you will kindly intimate to her that if she returns that
Estabrook mare she borrowed this morning in reasonably good condition,
I will overlook her indiscretion in taking it from the stable without
permission."
She did not wait for a reply, but continued on to her room, and I went
direct to the terrace. Cecilia and Pepperton were just going into the
house to look up a book or piece of music which they had been
discussing. Cecilia was making herself interesting, as she so well
knew how to do, and she seemed in no wise anxious.
"We had forgotten tea," she said. "Aunt Octavia has just ordered it."
"She and Mr. Pepperton may have their tea. I believe the air outside
will do you good for a little longer,--so if you don't mind, Pepperton,
Miss Hollister will resume her promenade alone."
Pep has told me since that he thought me quite mad that afternoon. I
bade Cecilia patrol the long terrace slowly. She turned up the collar
of the covert coat and obeyed, laughing a little nervously but asking
no questions. The scene could not have been more charmingly set. The
great house loomed darkly behind her; beneath lay the garden, over
which the dusk was stealing goldenly.
She paused suddenly as I watched from the window, and I stepped out to
see what had attracted her attention. There into the garden from its
farther entrance filed the six suitors who had previously come to sit
beneath the windows of their stricken lady! Having failed to visit
their wrath upon the perfidious Dick they had changed their clothes and
returned to Hopefield. If Hezekiah had not expressly commanded me not
to become the sixth man, I should have offered myself on the spot, and
waited only until Cecilia had made the inevitable answer before
summoning Wiggins to end the whole affair. Such, however, was not to
be the order of events.
The procession, headed by Ormsby, was within a few yards of the
terrace. Cecilia, apparently unconscious of their proximity, continued
her promenade. In a moment she must recognize them, ask them into the
house, give them tea, and otherwise destroy my hope of securing her
happiness before the day's end.
A chorus of yelps and barks, as of dogs suddenly released, greeted my
ear. The oncoming suitors heard it too, and the line wobbled
uncertainly. Then round the house swept mastiffs, hounds, terriers,--a
collection of prize-winners such as few kennels ever boasted, loping
gayly in unwonted freedom toward unknown and forbidden pastures.
The vanguard of fox-terriers leaped down into the garden, with the rest
of the pack at their heels. Happy dogs, to find grown men ready for a
gambol! Six coat-tails streamed from the hips of six gentlemen in a
hurry. Several battered hats mixed with geraniums were retained later
as spoils of war by the gardener. That garden had been built for
repose and contemplative amblings, not for panic and flight. The
disorder was superior in picturesqueness to that which attended the
pumpkin stampede; at least it struck me at the moment as funnier; and I
have never since been able to attend a day wedding without appearing
idiotic--the procession of ushers suggests possibilities that are too
much for me. Four of the suitors found one of the proper exits into
the road; two leaped the box-hedge on the other side without shaking a
leaf.
I ran round the house, stumbling through the rear-guard of the truant
canines, and passing the kennel-master, who had rallied the stable men
and was in hot pursuit.
"Somebody turned 'em out--turned 'em out!" he shouted, and swept
profanely by. The gate of the kennel-yard stood open. A familiar
figure, running low, paused, and then sprinted nimbly along the paddock
fence. A white sweater was distinguishable for a moment on a stone
wall, then it followed a pair of enchanted heels into oblivion.
Time had been passing swiftly, and the shadows were deepening. I
retraced my steps toward the terrace, hearing the cries of pursued and
pursuers growing fainter. I had not yet gained a position from which I
could see Cecilia, when a man appeared some distance ahead of me,
walking guardedly in one of the garden-plots. He came uncertainly,
pausing to glance about, yet evidently led toward the terrace by a
definite purpose. All may be fair in love and war, but I confess to a
feeling of pity for John Stewart Dick as I watched him slowly advancing
to his fate. He was going boldly now, and I felt a sudden liking for
him; nor can I believe that he was other than a manly fellow with sound
brains and a good heart.
I reasoned, as I marked his approach to the terrace, that he had been
loitering in the neighborhood, probably watching Cecilia and Pepperton,
and when the architect retired, he had assumed that the sixth man had
spoken. The appearance of his former comrades of the inn had doubtless
disturbed him as it had me; then, thanks to the resourceful Hezekiah,
they had been routed and the coast was clear. I think it likely that
the sight of Cecilia sombrely pacing the terrace in the darkening
shadows was too much for his philosophic poise, or like the rest of us
who were actors in that comedy, he may have felt that any end was
better than the doubts and uncertainties that beset us.
I watched him draw nearer to Cecilia as I have watched deer go down to
a lake to drink. He would speak now; I was confident of it; and I
stole round to the side entrance and sent word to Wiggins to go to the
drawing-room and wait for me.
Miss Octavia and Pepperton still lingered over their tea-cups. The row
made by the fugitives from her kennels had not, it seemed, penetrated
to the library, and Miss Octavia bade me join the talk, which had to
do, I remember, with some project for a national hall of fame that had
incurred her characteristic displeasure. A hall of immortal rascals in
pillories she thought far likelier to please the masses.
In fifteen minutes I saw Cecilia crossing the hall. She stopped where
I could see her quite plainly, and thrust her hand into the pocket of
her coat. Out flashed the silver note-book. She made a swift notation
with the pencil that now, I knew, wrote the fate of the sixth man.
I went out and spoke to her, and walked beside her to the drawing-room
door, where Hartley Wiggins was waiting.
Miss Octavia had risen when I returned to the library, and it was time
to dress for dinner.
"Just a moment, Miss Hollister. Something of great interest is about
to occur;" and I made excuses for detaining her for perhaps five
minutes,--not more.
"You have never yet deceived me, Arnold Ames, and such is my confidence
in you that if you tell me that something interesting will soon occur,
I have no reason to doubt you. It is worth remembering, however, that
fowl is not improved by prolonged roasting."
I heard Wiggins laugh in the hall, and Miss Octavia raised her head.
Then Cecilia came into the room, and walked directly to her aunt.
"Aunt Octavia, here is the little silver notebook you gave me in Paris;
I have just written Mr. Wiggins's name in it, and as I have no further
use for the book, I return it with my love and thanks."
Without a word, Miss Octavia turned to the wall and pressed the button
twice.
"William," she said as the butler appeared, "you may serve Oriana '97,
and be careful not to freeze it to death; and the hour for dinner is
changed to eight. Arnold, you may yourself drive to Gooseberry
Bungalow for my brother and niece. They dine with me to-night."
Hezekiah and I built our bungalow in the orchard where on that October
afternoon I found her munching a red apple on the stone wall. She is
the most scrupulous of housewives, and only now took me to task for
scattering the hearth with fragments of the notes from which this
narrative has been written. She has just been reading these last
pages, with meditative brown eyes, and not without occasionally
reaching for the pen and retouching some sentence in which, she says,
soot from my chimney-doctoring days has clogged the ink. Cecilia and
Wiggins live at Hopefield across the fields. Miss Octavia insisted on
this, for the reason that the sword of Hartley's great-grandfather,
found in the chest under the old house, gives him inalienable rights to
the premises. Miss Octavia and her brother Bassford are traveling
abroad and enjoying those mild adventures to which they are both
temperamentally inclined. As Miss Octavia carried with her the Parker
House umbrella-check I am confident of her early return.
My name is joined to Pepperton's on his office-door. Pepperton
proposed this arrangement, with so many assurances of faith in me that
I could not refuse him; but I knew well enough that Miss Octavia had
first put it into his head. So while I have called myself a
chimney-doctor in these pages, I am again an architect, and the new
cathedral now rising at Waxahaxie is, let me modestly note, the work of
my hand.
"You ought to say something more about the Asolando," Hezekiah has just
murmured at my shoulder. "Everybody will ask whether we ever went back
there."
"Of course we go back there, Hezekiah, every time you come to town and
can get hold of me. Will that be enough?"
"You'd better explain that Aunt Octavia started the tea-room and still
owns it, and makes money out of it, though she rarely goes there, but
sends Freda the maid to collect the profits. And it won't do any harm
to say that when she met you there that day, she decided at once that
you would be a proper husband for me. Any one who reads your book will
want to know that."
Hezekiah is always right; so here endeth the chronicle.
The Riverside Press
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