THE DRIVE.
At precisely four o’clock Jeff drove the hotel carriage up to the door
with a flourish and a feint as if it were hard to hold the horses, who
looked like anything but runaways and would have dropped their heads if
they had not been checked so high. Jeff had spent two hours in scrubbing
the carriage, polishing the harness and rubbing down the horses. His
divinity, Miss Alice, was going to drive, and there was nothing too good
for her. Helen had not impressed him as favorably as her cousin. “She
don’t look as real as my girl,” he had thought when he first saw her,
and he never had cause to change his opinion. At intervals Uncle Zach
had superintended the washing and polishing and rubbing of the turnout
which he said couldn’t be beaten outside of Worcester, and he waited
with a good deal of pride for the effect it would have upon the young
ladies.
Alice was the first to appear, looking very cool and fresh and pretty in
her dark blue serge made over from a last year’s dress, and adapted as
nearly as possible to the prevailing style. She was a natural dressmaker
and had given her costume a few touches of her own ideas. Like Uncle
Zach Jeff thought her a daisy, and although Craig and Mark were both
there, the former fastening his gloves and the latter holding the reins
by the horses’ heads, he gallantly helped her to the back seat and
smoothed down her dress with the air of a much older person. Then they
waited five minutes and ten minutes until the young men began to get
impatient. They did not know that Helen was seldom on time. She had
taken her after dinner nap and bath and had dawdled in her dressing,
notwithstanding Celine’s efforts to hurry her. When at last she did
appear she was like a picture stepping out of a fashion plate. Her
tailor made dress and jacket were without a flaw in style and fit, her
gloves harmonized perfectly with her dress, and the soft light veil
twisted around her sailor hat and tied in a big bow under her chin was
very becoming. In the morning she had worn Mark’s rose; this afternoon
she had a great clump of the _fleurs-de-lis_, Craig’s color, fastened to
her dress.
“Have I kept you waiting long? I am very sorry,” she said, with such an
air of penitence that both Craig and Mark forgave her, assuring her that
it was of no consequence. “Alice, I know, thinks me delinquent,” she
said. “She is always on time; always doing the right thing.”
“That’s so,” came from Jeff, who emphasized his words with a sudden
whopover on the grass.
They all laughed, Helen the most of all.
“You see you have an admiring champion,” she said to Alice; then to
Mark, “You are to drive, I conclude.”
“Yes, I go in the capacity of driver and guide, as I know all the points
of interest,” he replied, and Helen continued, “I suppose you and Mr.
Mason should sit on the front seat, and Alice and I on the back, but I
want to drive part of the time, and if you do not mind I will sit with
you.”
“I shall be delighted,” Mark said, and in his delight he dropped the
reins and almost lifted Helen to her place in front.
“Take care there! take care!” Uncle Zach exclaimed, hopping about like a
grasshopper and seizing one of the horses by the bit. “You didn’t or’to
be so rash droppin’ them lines. There’s no knowin’ what the horses will
take it into their heads to do. Virginny is frothin’ at her mouth now.
She’ll be pawin’ next.”
“I think it’s the high check. It makes her neck ache. Won’t you please
lower it?” Alice said.
She was a lover of animals of all kinds and could not bear to see them
needlessly pained. The high checks were Jeff’s idea, but if Alice wanted
them lowered they should be, and he at once let them out, evidently to
the satisfaction of the horses, who shook their heads as if relieved
from some disagreeable restraint. Mrs. Tracy, who had slept longer than
usual, now came down the walk, with a frown on her face as she saw where
her daughter was sitting.
“Helen,” she said, “Won’t you be more comfortable with Alice? You will
get all the wind and sun and dust where you are, and burn your face. Mr.
Mason will change with you.”
“I don’t want him to change. I like where I am. There isn’t any wind,
and I neither freckle nor burn; besides that I am going to drive,” Helen
replied.
There was no use arguing with her, and Mrs. Tracy could only look her
disapproval, while Uncle Zach, still hopping about and very proud for
this fine equipage to be seen before his door by the passers by, said in
some alarm, “Better not let her drive till the horses have had some of
the wind taken out of their sails. They’ve et two quarts of oats extra,
and may take it into their heads to run away and upset the kerridge.”
“Oh, please go on, or we shall not get started till dark,” Helen said,
and with a chirrup to the horses the carriage started, Uncle Zach taking
off his hat to it, and Jeff indulging in two or three summersaults as it
went rapidly up the street and past the houses from which many eyes
looked curiously at the young ladies of whom every one had heard,
although they had not been twenty-four hours in town.
When the carriage disappeared Mrs. Tracy, who evidently had something on
her mind, followed Uncle Zacheus into the office and said in her most
insinuating, amiable voice, “Dear Mr. Taylor, I don’t want to be
troublesome, but would you mind opening the safe for me? I mean would
you mind showing me how to open it; then when I feel nervous about the
diamonds I can see for myself that they are there, and need not trouble
any one. I could ask your hired man to show me if he would, but I’d
rather you should do it.”
“My hired man! Great guns! How does Joel Otis know anything about the
safe?” Uncle Zach exclaimed, thinking of his man of all work.
Mrs. Tracy saw her mistake and hastened to explain: “I mean your clerk,
Mr. what’s his name? He is hired, isn’t he?”
“Why, yes; and I pay him a good round sum. He’s worth it, too, and runs
everything. I never think of callin’ him my hired man, and I dunno’s
he’d like me to show you how to open the safe.”
“Surely you are the master here, aren’t you?” Mrs. Tracy asked, in a
tone which at once piqued the man’s pride.
“Of course I am. This is my house. What did you say you wanted?”
“I want to know how to unlock the safe, so I can see my diamonds
whenever I choose,” Mrs. Tracy replied.
Uncle Zach thought a minute, standing first on one foot, then on the
other, and rubbing his bald head and wishing Dot were there. But Dot was
at a neighbor’s, gossiping about her city boarders and their elegant
clothes, even their night dresses trimmed with real Valenciennes and
nothing but silk stockings for every day. Dot could not help him. He
must act alone, and it would not do to disoblige Mrs. Tracy, so he
finally said, “Wall, seein’ it’s you, I don’t care if I do, though I
mistrust Mark won’t like it.”
“I don’t see what business it is of Mark’s. The safe is yours,” Mrs.
Tracy replied.
“That’s so,” Uncle Zach rejoined, and in a minute he was explaining to
the lady the intricacies of the lock.
“The word is ‘_John_,’” he said. “That’s our little boy who died and is
down in the cemetry. For J you give four turns _so_; for O three turns
_so_; for H two turns _so_; for N a final jerk, and here you be. No you
ain’t neither! What ails the pesky thing?” he exclaimed, as with all his
right and left turns and twists and yanks the safe resisted his efforts
to open it.
He tried again with no better result; then yielded his place to Mrs.
Tracy, to whom he gave the most minute directions. She, too, failed and
after two or three trials called to Celine, whom she heard on the
piazza.
“It’s strength we need, and Celine has it,” she said, explaining to the
girl what was wanted and crouching down by her as she tried her skill on
the obdurate lock.
Uncle Zach had lost his wits entirely, and went down on his knees to
assist with advice and orders.
“Whew!” came through the window in a tone of surprise, and the next
moment Jeff came in like a whirlwind, and made the fourth in the group
by the safe. “What are you up to?” he asked, and at sight of him Mrs.
Tracy, remembering what Alice had told her, rose to her feet.
Celine, however, had no such prejudice, and she explained the matter
very volubly.
“Pshaw!” Jeff said contemptuously. “Is that all? I’ll bet I can pick the
lock, give me time. Any way, I can open it. I’ve seen Mark do it a
hundred times. Get out of the way.”
He spoke to Celine, but Mr. Taylor and Mrs. Tracy both stepped back with
Celine, leaving Jeff a fair field. It did not take him long to open the
door, and with an “I told you I could,” he disappeared, leaving Mrs.
Tracy no better off than she was before. She could not open the door
after it was shut, for she tried it until she was tired, and scorning to
ask Jeff to teach her, gave it up, saying she supposed she was foolish
in wishing to look at her diamonds whenever she chose without calling on
any one to assist her, but something made her very nervous about them.
“Dot gets nervous spells, too, about nothin’. It’s the way of wimmen,”
Uncle Zacheus said. “I guess we better not let Mark know we tinkered
with his safe. He’d be awful mad.”
“I think you defer too much to the opinion of an employee. It spoils
them,” Mrs. Tracy suggested, and Uncle Zach replied, “Can’t spile
Mark,—the best feller ever born. I’d trust him with my life.”
Meanwhile Mark was feeling that he was as near Paradise as he would ever
be until he reached its gates. It was a good deal to be sitting side by
side with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and it was still
more to have the beautiful girl as friendly and gracious as she was,
treating him as if she had known him for years, and seldom looking back
to speak to Craig, whom she left entirely to Alice. She professed to be
enchanted with everything, and her face glowed with excitement. The
spirit, which in one of her confidences with Alice she had ascribed to
his satanic majesty whom she called the _old gentleman_ was upon her,
and she could no more help flirting with Mark Hilton than she could have
helped breathing. Craig’s reserve had piqued her, but while ignoring him
she didn’t forget him at all, or lose a word he was saying to Alice. He
was the fish she meant to draw into her net eventually, but she was very
happy watching Mark getting more and more entangled in her meshes.
It was a lovely summer afternoon and owing to the heavy rain of the
previous night the road was neither dusty nor rough, and for a time Paul
and Virginia did credit to Uncle Zach’s praise of them and trotted on
without a sign of lagging. Mark still held the lines, but when they had
crossed the river and the causeway and were out among the hills Helen
said to him, “Don’t you believe the bloods have digested that two quarts
of oats by this time and had the wind taken out of their sails
sufficiently for me to drive.”
She held out her hands for the lines which Mark gave to her, asking if
she had ever driven much.
“No,” she said, “but I want to learn, and I like to drive fast and feel
the wind on my face. Touch them, please, with the whip.”
Mark touched Paul, while woman-like Helen jerked the reins and told them
to go on, which they did at a rapid rate, until a long, steep hill was
reached, or rather a succession of short hills, with level spaces like
plateaus between. Up two of these hills the bloods pulled steadily, but
stopped at the third, while Paul looked back expectantly and Virginia
laid her head against his neck in a caressing kind of way.
“What have they stopped for? Get up! Get up!” Helen said, but her get
ups were unavailing.
Paul still looked back and Virginia finally joined him while Mark and
Craig laughed aloud. Craig had been up that hill, which was known as the
mile hill and was rough and stony, but had at its summit one of the
finest views in the surrounding country. He knew the habits of the
horses and wondered that they had not stopped sooner and signified their
wish for the load to be lightened, especially as it was more than double
now with four people and the carryall to what it had been with himself
and Uncle Zach and a light buggy.
“What are they stopping for?” Helen asked again, and Craig replied,
“Stopping for us to get out and walk. Have you never heard that the
horses in Norway are brought up to do that? I fancy the bloods may have
come from that region.”
Alice sprang out in a moment and began to pat Virginia, whose eyes were
beginning to have in them a dangerous gleam as she felt the weight of
the load behind her and saw the long steep hill in front, with still
another and another beyond. Craig alighted, too, and so did Mark, and
tried to coax the horses to move on. At first Paul seemed inclined to do
so, and turned half way towards Virginia, who, true to her sex, stood
her ground and would not budge. She knew there was still one occupant in
the carriage and until all were out she would stay where she was.
“Make them go. Give them the whip. I’m not going to walk up that
mountain to please any brute,” Helen said, beginning to grow impatient.
Mark knew better than to use the whip, much as he wished to do so. Paul
might not resent it, but Virginia was of a different make and knew how
to use her heels if thwarted in having her way.
“How long do you think she will stand here if I don’t get out?” Helen
asked, and Mark replied, “All night, I dare say. She is gentle enough
except about the hills, which she abominates. She was born on a western
ranche. Hadn’t you better give in?”
“No, never,” Helen said laughingly. “I’ll not be beaten by a horse. I
can stay here as long as she can, if you’ll stay with me.”
“Of course I’ll stay,” Mark said, and folding his arms resigned himself
to the situation, wondering which would give in first, the woman or the
beast.
Neither showed any signs of it, and he began to think what he should do.
Craig and Alice had walked on slowly, sometimes stopping to gather wild
flowers and sometimes sitting on a boulder to rest. Evidently they were
enjoying themselves, for more than once Alice’s merry laugh came down
the hill and Helen saw Craig pinning some field flowers on her hat.
Suddenly it struck her more forcibly than it had ever done before that
Alice was just the one to attract a man like Craig. This would never do,
for whatever her relations to Mark might be she looked upon Craig as her
property.
“I submit to the inevitable,” she said, extending her arms to Mark, who
lifted her very carefully and set her down upon the grass with a slight
pressure of which he was scarcely conscious, but which Helen felt and
knew that her subjugation of him was complete.
He was her slave and she could now give her attention to Craig. She had
said she could not walk up the hill, but she did walk very rapidly until
she reached the boulder on which Alice and Craig were seated. Then she
grew so tired and exhausted and faint that when at last they started up
the remainder of the declivity she said to Alice, “I must lean on you or
never get there.”
This was surprising to Alice, who had heard her cousin boast of her
ability to walk miles among the Alps and knew that she had walked up Mt.
Washington without apparent fatigue.
“Let me assist you,” Craig said, offering her his arm, and finally
passing it round her the better to support her when he felt her totter
as if about to fall.
He was very kind, and the weaker and fainter she grew the kinder he
became and the closer he held her, while he tried to divert her by
laughing at the idiosyncrasies of Paul and Virginia, who were rushing up
the hill with a rapidity which compelled Mark to run to keep pace with
them. Of the two he was more exhausted than Helen when the crest of the
hill was reached, for he was white about the lips and the perspiration
was standing in great drops on his face. But he gave no thought to
himself when he saw how limp and helpless Helen seemed as she sank down
upon a broken bit of stone wall and closed her eyes wearily.
“You are not going to faint? You must not faint here where there is no
water, and nothing but this hartshorn,” Alice said with energy, giving
Helen a little shake as her head fell over on Craig’s shoulder, the only
place where it could rest easily.
She did not look like fainting, for her color was as brilliant as ever,
but she kept her eyes shut while Alice held smelling salts to her nose,
and Mark and Craig fanned her with their hats, the former envying the
latter his position with his arm now entirely round her and her head on
his shoulder. Suddenly Mark exclaimed: “There is a spring not far from
here where I can get some water in my hat,” and he darted off in the
direction of a clump of trees. Helen was perfectly quiet until Mark came
back with his straw hat half full of water. Then she started up with a
laugh and throwing back her head said, “I am all right now. It was a
little touch of the heart, climbing the steep hill. I hope I haven’t
made a lot of trouble.”
She looked down at Craig still sitting on the stone wall, then at Mark
holding his hat with the water dripping from it. From this she recoiled
and held back her dress lest a drop should fall upon it.
“I am awfully sorry about your hat. Do you think you have spoiled it?”
she asked, giving him a look which she knew always did its work and
which made Mark feel that the price of forty hats would scarcely pay for
a look like that.
He and Craig were greatly relieved at her recovery, and assisted her to
the carriage, one on either side, while she made a protest against being
helped, when she was perfectly able to walk by herself.
“Did you ever have an attack like this before?” Alice asked.
Helen gave her a warning look and answered, “Not exactly like this. My
heart has troubled me some. Let us go home, please, before I do anything
more that is foolish.”