THE MEETING WITH ELSIE.
In his wild desire to get away somewhere, Hodge had fancied he must
be putting distance between himself and Elsie. Instead of that, he
had hastened to her. There she was coming along the path. He stood
still and stared at her in amazement.
The man grasped his arm with a grip that seemed to crush flesh and
bone.
“You must not tell her that I am the strongest man in the world!”
he breathed hoarsely. “Promise me you will not tell her!”
“I promise,” said Bart.
“That is all I ask,” said the man, in a low tone, releasing his
hold on Hodge. “I see by your face that you are a young man who
values his word.”
Then he lifted his voice, and answered:
“Here I am, Miss Bellwood. What do you want?”
“Oh, doctor!” called Elsie, “we met with such an adventure in town.
The horses ran away and James fell off.”
Bart had drawn back. He would have slipped away, had it been
possible to do so without being observed by the approaching girl,
for he felt that he was in no mood to meet Elsie then.
How pretty she was as she came tripping through the woods. It
seemed to Bart that she had never looked more beautiful.
She trusted Merriwell, and Merriwell was deceiving her! Again his
heart seethed with indignation, and just then he felt that he
longed to stand face to face with Frank and say a few things.
In the eyes of Bart Hodge, Elsie was the most beautiful girl in
the world. In her he saw all that was sweet and good and true. He
wondered how it was possible for Frank to care more for dark-eyed
Inza than for golden-haired Elsie.
“The horses ran away?” exclaimed the “strong man,” with evident
alarm and annoyance. “And James fell off? Well, James shall be
discharged at once.”
“Oh, he was not to blame! He was not strong enough to hold them
when they became frightened.”
“Not strong enough? Then he is not fit for the place. No man has
a right to be weak. Strength should be sought by all. But I hope,
Miss Bellwood, that the runaway did not result in a disaster?”
“Fortunately not, doctor. The horses were stopped.”
“Good--very good! Who did it?”
“A policeman tried to stop them first.”
“It was his duty!”
“But he did not succeed. Oh, I was so frightened! He was thrown
down, and I thought he must be killed. We found out afterward that
he was not very badly hurt.”
“He got hold of the horses?” asked the man frowning.
“Yes, but he could not hold them.”
“Weakling!” muttered the man, contemptuously. “Why, had I been in
his place, I’d stopped them in their tracks!”
“They were mad with terror, and it seemed that no one could check
them. But there was a young man who ran out, got them by the
bridles, and brought them to a stand.”
“Ah!” cried the man, with a show of interest. “He must be the
possessor of some strength.”
“He’s the greatest athlete in Yale. His name is Frank Merriwell.”
Elsie had stopped a short distance away. As he leaned against
a tree which shielded him from her view, Hodge had not been
discovered by her. Standing thus, Bart heard her tell how Frank had
stopped the runaway horses. It gave him a strange sensation, and
all at once he began to wonder if the meeting between Frank and
Elsie had been unintentional, or accidental.
“Oh, yes; I know about him,” said the man called “doctor.” “I have
seen him many times in athletic sports and games. I presume some
men would regard him as rather strong.”
“You should have seen him drag those horses to a stop, doctor! Mrs.
Parker wished me to come and tell you about it. She thought I might
find you here, and----”
Elsie stopped. For the first time, she perceived that the man was
not alone. Finding he was discovered, Bart stepped out into view,
lifting his hat.
“Bart Hodge?” she cried, astonished. “Here?”
“Yes, Miss Bellwood,” he said, in a tone of voice that sounded
strained and unnatural. “It is a surprise to us both, I fancy.”
“So you are acquainted?” exclaimed the man, looking from one to the
other. “Well, well!”
Elsie started forward, her hands outstretched.
“I am so glad to see you, Bart!” she cried, her cheeks turning
crimson.
“Are you?” he exclaimed, feeling his heart give a great throb of
joy.
“Why, of course I am!” she asserted, as he met her and clasped her
hands.
“But you did not let me know you were in New Haven.”
“You’ll find a letter when you get back to town. I dropped one in
the office for you.”
“But Frank knew you were here.”
“He did not know I was coming. Oh, Bart, you should have seen him
fling himself at the heads of those snorting, terrified horses and
bring them to a stop! It was grand, and it was just like him!”
Admiration for Frank thrilled her; Hodge saw it in her face and
heard it in her voice.
“She loves him still!” he told himself, his heart sinking.
“Then there was no harm done?” asked the “strong man,” seeming
awakened at last to the possibility that the runaway might have
resulted in damage.
“None, save to the policeman who tried to stop the horses, doctor.
Of course, Mrs. Parker was frightened. James drove the team home,
and we came by trolley as far as we could, and walked across.”
“I’ll discharge him at once!” declared the man.
“Please don’t!” entreated Elsie, leaving Bart and turning to the
man. She fluttered to him, placing her gloved hands on his muscular
arms and looking up into his face entreatingly. “I am sure James
does not deserve to be discharged, doctor. Promise me that you will
not do that.”
He melted before her appeal.
“Oh, well,” he said, “I’ll have to reprimand him, but, as long as
you ask it, I’ll not discharge him.”
“Oh, that’s a good doctor!” she laughed. He patted her cheek, and
she turned to Bart in triumph.
“Now,” she said, “you must explain how you happen to be here, sir.”
“I left town for a walk, and just wandered along here; that’s all.”
“Well, wasn’t that odd! And I’m so glad to see you! You had to
leave Charlottesville in such a hurry.”
“That’s right,” he agreed. “I left much before I was ready to do
so.”
“We are going to stay here for several weeks, perhaps. Now, if Inza
and Winnie were here, how jolly it would be!”
The man had turned from them to the lodge, the doors of which he
was closing and locking.
“Who is he?” asked Bart, nodding toward him.
“Doctor Lincoln,” she answered. “He is Mrs. Parker’s brother.”
“You are visiting him?”
“Yes. He lives here at Whitney Hill all by himself.”
“Is he a practising physician?”
“No. He has never practised. He is wealthy, and it has been his fad
to experiment. He’s rather peculiar.”
“Rather,” agreed Bart. “I found that out very quickly.”
“But he is so kind and good. Some people around here seem afraid of
him.”
“Some of the neighbors?”
“Yes.”
Bart nodded.
“I shouldn’t wonder.”
She looked at him searchingly.
“Why should they fear him?” she asked. “Hasn’t a man a right to
his own peculiar ways? He built this lodge here in the grove in
order to have a private laboratory where he could continue his
experiments and investigations undisturbed. He says the neighbors
were very curious about it, and used to come prying round till he
was forced to find ways of frightening them off. Then they took a
dislike to him and said he was queer.”
“Elsie,” said Bart seriously, “I am afraid Doctor Lincoln is not
just right in his upper story.”
“Oh, you misjudge him!” she whispered. “I am sure you do! He is
very kind in the house. He’s simply original.”
“There are hundreds of men in the country with his original ways
who are spending their days in lunatic asylums,” murmured Bart,
whose feelings had changed greatly. He escorted Elsie to the house,
Doctor Lincoln following them at a distance, and giving them a
chance to talk quite freely. Bart found that he had suspected
Frank without the least cause, and he saw that his jealousy was
groundless and foolish as far as he had thought Frank meant to turn
to Elsie again.
But still within him was the feeling that Elsie still cared for
Merry, and that was gall and wormwood to him. He longed to tell
her everything, but resolved to see Frank and talk with him again
before doing so. Just then Hodge fancied that he was in need of
advice, and who was better able to advise him than Frank?
Elsie told Bart that Mrs. Parker had asked the doctor to have a
house-party of college men and young ladies at Whitney Hill, and he
had agreed.
“The invitations are to go out to-morrow,” she said. “We’ll have a
delightful time. Oh, if Inza were here!”
Bart wondered if she felt no jealousy of Inza.
Having bade Elsie adieu, and waved his hand to the doctor, who
returned the salute, Bart turned his face toward the city.
The fever had left his veins, and his heart was beating in its
usual manner as he swung along. But he was ashamed of himself on
account of the bitter things that had filled his mind in regard to
Frank, and he resolved to make a confession and ask pardon.
His love for Elsie was more intense than ever. While he thought
of her, visions of the strange, uncanny doctor kept obtruding
upon him. He saw the man standing there in the woods, big, thick,
muscular, staring at the huge stone at his feet. He seemed harmless
enough, but Bart was firm in his conviction that such queer
characters were dangerous, and should be watched. This being the
case, he could not help feeling uneasy about Elsie as long as she
remained at Whitney Hill.
It was growing dusk when Bart came swinging down Whitney Avenue. He
did not look like the same person who had rushed madly and blackly
out of town a while before. His face wore such a pleasant look that
he was positively handsome.
Some children had been playing a game of tag. One of them fell and
was hurt. Bart stopped, picked up the child, wiped away its tears,
soothed it to laughter, and left it with a quarter clasped in its
soiled fingers.
Straight to Frank, Bart went. He found Merry in his room, writing
steadily, manuscript scattered about. Often, of late, Bart had
found him thus employed, and he wondered somewhat what the nature
of Frank’s work could be.
“Where have you been, Hodge?” Frank asked. “I’ve tried in vain to
find you.”
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I wished to tell you something.”
“About----”
“Elsie--she is here.”
“I know it.”
“You have seen her?”
“Yes.”
Then, without shielding himself in the least, Bart told Frank how
he had seen him helping Elsie onto the car, and how he had fancied
all sorts of bad things about him. Hodge’s face was flushed with
shame as he proceeded. Several times Merriwell tried to check him,
seeing that this confession was causing him great humiliation and
distress, but the penitent fellow would not desist until he had
finished.
When it was finished they stood there, Frank looking straight at
the dark-faced lad, whose eyes were on the floor. The silence
caused Hodge to look up.
“I don’t blame you, Merriwell!” he exclaimed. “I don’t blame you
for despising me! I’m a bad fellow to think such things of you,
after all you have done for me!”
“It’s not that I am thinking, Hodge,” said Frank gently. “I am
thinking of the great change in you since the days when we first
met. Then you would not have confessed you were wrong if you had
committed a crime; now you are eager to confess, when you have no
more than thought wrong of me.”
“That was a crime! How could I think wrong of you after all you
have done?”
“What have I done? We have been friends, and I’m sure you’ve done
as much for me as I ever did for you.”
“No, no!”
“You saved my life. You dragged me from the burning hotel.”
“You have done a thousand times more than that for me. You have
saved me from dishonor and disgrace. You have saved me from going
wrong and becoming a dissolute reprobate. All that I am and all
that I hope to be I owe to you! Yet I could hold hatred for you in
my heart this day! Oh, Merriwell, the shame of it is too much to
bear!”
He shook with the intensity of his emotion, covering his drawn face
with his hands. Quickly Frank advanced to his side, and his arm
went across Bart’s shoulders.
“You think too badly of yourself, old man,” declared Frank. “You
were jealous, and jealousy has parted the truest friends.”
Bart turned and caught hold of Merry.
“But it shall not part us!” he cried fiercely. “Say it shall not
part us, Frank!”
“I hope not, Bart. We will not permit it.”
“No, no! Such friendship as ours comes but once in a lifetime! Once
lost, nothing can ever take its place.”
Frank nodded.
“That is true,” he said. “I think there is no danger, Bart.”
“But can you feel just the same toward me after--after this?”
“Just the same, old man? If anything, I must think more of you. You
might have hidden it from me, and I’d never been the wiser.”
“Oh, I couldn’t! Had I thought such things wrongly of any one else,
I’d never confessed it; but of you----”
“I understand, Bart. You had no reason to be jealous, for you know
I am engaged to Inza.”
“Elsie does not know?”
“Because you have not told her, after asking the privilege to do
so. I should have let her know it long ago but for that. Bart, you
must tell her. It is not treating her right to keep it from her.”
Then Hodge confessed why he had not told her before--confessed that
he feared she still cared for Merry.
“I hope you are not right, Bart. Something tells me that you are
not. But you know it is possible that she believed she would be
doing me an injustice if she learned to care more for another, and
Elsie would not, to save her life, do anything she thought wrong.
The safest way, Bart, is to tell her everything. If you will not,
you must let me do it.”
“I will!” said Hodge resolutely. “There is to be a party out there,
given for Elsie, and we’ll receive invitations to-morrow. At that
party, I’ll find a way to tell her, Frank.”