FOR ELSIE.
“Elsie.”
She stopped and turned as she heard her name spoken. Mrs. Parker
approached, accompanied by a young man, whom she introduced.
It was Gene Skelding.
“The dancing is about to begin,” said Mrs. Parker. “Gene is my
nephew, Elsie.”
Then, in a very clever manner, she practically asked Elsie to give
Gene Skelding the first waltz.
Now, Elsie did not care to dance with Skelding, but she could not
refuse under the circumstances, and Bart Hodge was filled with
dismay, chagrin, and anger when he saw the fellow bear Elsie away
toward the drawing-room on his arm. She glanced back over her
shoulder, but he had seen her turn, and he pretended to be deeply
interested in another direction.
This was a disappointment to Elsie, for she had intended to
indicate to him by a look that she was not pleased with the
arrangement, which she had been unable to avoid.
Skelding was triumphant. For a long time he had admired Elsie
Bellwood, but, being outside Merriwell’s set, he had not succeeded
in making her acquaintance.
When he chose, Skelding could converse pleasantly, and he exerted
himself just now to be agreeable. In fact, he exerted himself so
much that he came near overdoing it.
When they reached the drawing-room, the dancing had begun. It was
with great satisfaction that Shielding glided onto the floor with
Elsie, brushing past Frank Merriwell, who was still surrounded by
several pretty girls.
Gene knew Merriwell had paid Elsie great attentions in the past,
and it was his belief that Frank still cared for her. Therefore, he
regarded the securing of the first waltz with her as a very clever
thing on his part.
Frank saw Elsie with Skelding, and he was astonished, for he did
not know the fellow was Mrs. Parker’s nephew, and he wondered how
he had obtained her for that dance.
A sudden fear came to Frank. Was it possible that Elsie did not
care for Bart, and had taken particular pains to avoid him, giving
this dance to another for the purpose of causing him pain? No, he
could not think that of her. Elsie was not the girl to deliberately
give pain to any one she regarded as her true friend.
But perhaps she really did wish to avoid Bart. Perhaps she
considered this as the best way of showing him what her wishes
were. If she did not care for Bart--what then? Frank remembered
the past, and it gave him no little uneasiness.
“Why hasn’t Hodge told her of my engagement to Inza?” he inwardly
cried.
Then he realized that he was standing there with those girls
talking to him, yet without understanding a word they had been
saying for the past three minutes.
The college men ventured to come up and bear one after another of
the girls away. Frank selected one, and was soon in the midst of
the waltz.
In vain he looked for Bart. Hodge was not dancing. Indeed, Bart had
withdrawn from the house to the veranda, where he stood facing the
cool breeze that felt so pleasant on his flushed cheeks.
“Curse that fellow!” he inwardly cried. “Properly, this is my dance
with her. Why did she give it to him?”
He longed to throttle Skelding. The fact that Elsie was waltzing
with a member of the despicable Chickering set caused him to grind
his teeth in rage. He felt a touch on the arm.
“You did not decide to dance?”
It was the voice of the doctor.
“No,” answered Hodge shortly.
“It is a beautiful evening.”
“Yes.”
Bart did not feel inclined to talk just then, but the doctor
lingered.
“If you are not going to dance, what do you say to a stroll?”
Now, Hodge had no fancy for taking a stroll with this man just
then, and he politely declined.
“Perhaps I might be able to tell you some things of interest,”
suggested the doctor, in a low voice. “You know I have a secret.
Wouldn’t you like to be able to acquire marvelous strength?”
“I am quite satisfied with my strength.”
“Are you?” asked the man, as if he really pitied the poor fellow.
“That is because you do not know what you are missing. You do not
know what it is to feel that you are able to move a mountain if you
wish. That is living! It goes all through you.”
Bart turned away. The talk of this lunatic wearied him.
“If you will come to the lodge in the grove,” whispered the doctor,
“I’ll reveal to you my wonderful secret. Think of it! I have never
before made such an offer to any living human being. I will show
you how you may become strong like me.”
“Why should you do this?”
“Because I have taken a fancy to you. Come, come!”
He seized Bart’s arm as if he would force him from the house toward
the grove near at hand.
“Stop!” said Bart sternly. “Let go, sir! I will not go with you!”
The man’s eyes seemed to gleam at him balefully through the gloom,
and it was plain that he was hesitating. Hodge nerved himself for
the struggle, in case he was attacked. But the attack did not come.
The doctor’s hand fell from the arm of the student, and he laughed
softly.
“You are the first man I ever offered to give a part of my great
secret,” he said, “and you have refused to accept it! I did not
expect it of you! My confidence in you has been misplaced, but
again I warn you to be silent. If you betray me, it will cost you
your life!”
Then he turned and left the veranda, walking rapidly away into the
darkness. Hodge gave himself a shake.
“The man means me harm!” he decided. “I feel that he wished to get
me away from the house for no good purpose. He is dangerous, and
Elsie must not remain beneath this roof!”
Then he thought of Elsie waltzing with Skelding and ground his
teeth again.
“Why did she accept him for that waltz? She knew I was waiting for
her! Can it be that she wishes to stand me off?”
The thought filled him with intense anguish, so that beads of cold
perspiration started out upon his face. The music stopped. The
waltz was over.
“I’ll keep out of the way for a time,” he decided. “I am in no mood
to be seen now.”
Some of the dancers came out onto the veranda, where they could
chat, but Bart remained in a dark corner. Everybody seemed happy,
and he was most miserable.
After a time a little group of students gathered near him and
lighted their cigarettes. He saw their faces by the flash of the
match, and an exclamation nearly escaped his lips as he observed
that Skelding was one of them.
“Never enjoyed a waltz so much in my life, fellows,” declared Gene.
“Didn’t I have a queen?”
“She’s Merriwell’s best,” said somebody. “Look out, or you’ll get
tangled up with him.”
“Merriwell be hanged! I don’t care for him.”
“Perhaps not, but still, he’s bad medicine. She is a queen, though.”
“Fellows, she’s a peach of a waltzer,” declared Gene, while Hodge
began to tremble in every limb.
“You must be struck on her,” chuckled one of the others.
“I’m hard hit. I wouldn’t mind winning her for keeps.”
“You can’t win her away from Merriwell.”
“I got the first waltz with her.”
“Well, that was something; but he’ll waltz with her oftener than
you do to-night.”
“I’ll go the fizz for the crowd that he doesn’t.”
“Done!”
By this time Bart was furious. His hands were opening and closing
nervously, and it seemed that his hoarse breathing must be heard by
the group of students.
“Oh, this is going to be easy!” laughed Skelding.
“That’s all right. We’ll see how easy it is. I saw Merriwell
watching you.”
“I’m glad of that. Made him jealous. Ha, ha!”
“You seem to think you have a safe thing.”
“Why, fellows, I’ll tell you something: she squeezed my hand during
the waltz.”
“You’re a miserable liar and a cur!” said Bart Hodge, as he stepped
into the midst of the group and confronted Skelding.
Before Gene could get out of the way or lift his hand, Hodge seized
him by the nose, which he gave a pull that brought a cry of pain
from the fellow’s lips.
Then the two were thrust apart. Gene had clasped his nose with both
hands. Beneath his feet his cigarette spluttered sparks and went
out. Somebody laughed beyond an open window.
“Curse you!” hoarsely breathed Skelding. “You shall pay for this!”
“With pleasure,” said Bart grimly.
“Now!”
“The sooner the better!”
“Follow me.”
“Lead on.”
Some of the others tried to interfere and prevent the fight for the
time, but such a thing could not be averted. They left the piazza
and moved away from the house toward the lake. Bart did not seek
the companionship of friends. The men whom Gene had been speaking
to thus lightly about Elsie went along.
They found a quiet spot at a distance from the house, yet within
hearing of the music and laughter. The orchestra had started up
again, and the happy throng in the house was dancing.
Hodge was eager to get at Skelding. He boiled to teach the cheap
fellow a lesson. That any one had dared speak in such a manner of
Elsie was enough to make him furious.
They stripped off their coats and vests. They even removed collars,
neckties, and white shirts.
Skelding’s friends helped him prepare. Bart disdained help. Hodge
fastened his suspenders about his waist to support his trousers. He
was ready first.
“I’ll make you sorry for what you did!” vowed Skelding.
“I’ll make you swallow your lying words, or I’ll kill you!”
declared Bart, in a low, terrible voice.
“Are you ready?”
“I am waiting.”
They stepped quickly toward each other. In a moment they were at it.
It was not light enough for them to see to fight in a scientific
manner. Hodge pressed the fighting from the very start. Skelding
had tried to do this, but he found Bart a perfect whirlwind, flying
about him here, there, everywhere, hitting him on one side and then
on the other.
The spectators watched in great excitement. It was a fierce fight,
and they knew it could not last long. Suddenly one of the men went
down before a blow that sounded like a pistol-shot.
It was Skelding. Bart stood over him, panting.
“Get up! Get up and let me finish you! I’ve not begun to give you
what you deserve!”
Skelding was ready enough to get up. He did so as soon as he could,
meeting Bart’s rush in the best form he could command.
But the blows rained on Gene’s face. He felt the blood flowing, and
he panted and staggered. What made him feel the worst was that he
could not seem to reach Hodge with a single good blow.
Bart was fighting for the honor of Elsie, and it made him a
thousand times more terrible than usual. Indeed, it was a wonder
that Gene stood up before him as long as he did.
At last, however, Skelding went down again and again before those
terrible fists. He could not stand in front of them at all, and he
was very “groggy.”
“That’s enough, Hodge!” exclaimed one of the spectators. “You have
given him punishment enough!”
“Keep back!” commanded Bart, in an awesome voice.
“But I say it’s enough!”
“If you interfere, you’ll have to fight, also!”
“Do you want to kill the man?”
“If he does not swallow his lying words, I shall never stop till he
is dead or unconscious!”
He meant it, and Skelding knew it. He knew that he could not endure
such fearful punishment much longer, and yet he hated to give up.
“You--you devil!” he almost sobbed, his heart filled with shame and
anger.
“You lied about her, Skelding! You know it, and I know it. Take
back those words!”
“I will not!”
Crack--down Gene went.
Bart waited for him to rise, and he got up slowly.
“Take back those words!”
“I refuse!”
Crack--it was repeated.
Again, after a pause, Skelding dragged himself up.
“Take back those words!”
“No, I will----”
Crack--a third time he went down.
The men who were watching did not dare interfere. Skelding dragged
himself to his elbow, but did not try to rise.
“You can’t make me take them back!” he said thickly.
Bart dropped to one knee, grasped the fellow by the neck, and
lifted his terrible fist.
“Take them back,” he said, “or I’ll disfigure you for life! I’ll
never stop till you swallow those words!”
“I--I will take them back!” faltered the beaten fellow, his nerve
failing him at last.
“Confess that you lied!”
“I--I lied; I confess it!”
“That’s all!” said Bart, rising. “But if you ever speak her name
again, and I know of it, I’ll give you worse than anything you have
received to-night!”
Then he removed his suspenders from about his waist, found his
clothes, and began to dress, his manner seeming so cool that the
witnesses of the fight wondered. A short time after, Bart sauntered
slowly up to the house, as if he had simply been out for a little
stroll.
As he mounted the steps to the veranda, some one uttered a little
exclamation of pleasure, and came toward him through the shadows.
Then Elsie was before him, and her hands were on his arm.
“I’ve been searching for you everywhere, Bart,” she declared.
“Where in the world have you been?”
“Oh, just wandering round the grounds,” he answered.
“You did not dance.”
“Without you!” His voice was full of tender reproach.
“Oh, Bart! I couldn’t help it,” she told him. “Mrs. Parker asked me
to dance with him that time, and how could I refuse?”
“Why was she so anxious?”
“He is her nephew.”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Bart; but that was all he said, though
he was thinking that Mrs. Parker might not recognize her nephew if
she could see him just then.
“I was afraid you would not understand,” said Elsie. “You see what
an awkward position I was in. I didn’t have enough wit to tell a
fib and say I had promised you.”
“I am glad you did not tell a fib, Elsie. Even a white fib would
seem out of place on your lips.”
“But were you angry with me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Bart!”
“I was as angry as a--as a--as a fool!” he said. “I couldn’t help
it! I even thought of leaving without a word, and going back to
town.”
She uttered a little cry.
“I am so glad you did not!” she whispered.
“Are you really glad, Elsie?”
“Really and truly, Bart.”
“Have you been dancing again?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I was searching for you. Somebody asked me to dance, but I refused
him.”
“Who was it?”
“Frank.”
“Frank Merriwell?”
“Yes.”
Hodge almost choked.
“You refused to dance with Frank?” he said huskily. “All because
you had not danced with me?”
“Yes, Bart,” she whispered, and he felt her hands trembling.
He found those hands and imprisoned them both, all the great love
in his heart surging up to his lips and seeking to be outpoured at
once.
“Elsie, my sweetheart! You are--I feel it! I know it! And a little
while ago I thought you did not care--I thought you wished to show
me that you did not care, and that I was nothing to you!”
“How could you think such mean things of me, Bart?”
“I did not want to think them, God knows! but they would come into
my head.”
The music was some simple little love-song, and it came sweetly to
their ears. It seemed to be particularly adapted to the moment, and
ever after, through all their lives, that tune was the sweetest of
all tunes to them.
“Elsie, you do love me--you do?”
She did not answer in words, but her hands were clasped in his, and
he received a pressure that told him much. And only a short time
before he had fought another man for claiming to receive such a
pressure from those dear hands.
He would have kissed her then and there, but a strolling couple
approached along the veranda.
“Let’s take a little walk through the grounds,” he suggested. “It
is warm. Will you need a wrap?”
“Nothing more than this I have about my shoulders,” she answered.
They descended the steps and moved away along a walk. Up from a
spot near where they had been rose a dark shadow, like a thing of
evil, and stole silently after them.