I
Tense quiet filled the crooked streets of Bromfield, the quiet that
presages storm. Vine Larimore looked anxiously from the window. She
was not afraid of tempests: she reveled in them. But a great fear had
gripped her in the night. Why had Calvin failed to stop on his way
home from the station? What business was it that took Calvin Stone
to Rochester every week or two? Another sweetheart? She would not
give the hideous thought house room. Was not she, Lavinia Larimore,
the handsomest girl in Bromfield? Was not her father, next to the
Calvins and the Stones, the most important man in the rusty old New
York village? Had she not worn Calvin’s ring for three endless years?
Most of the girls in her set were already married, and at New Year’s
she had worn the green stockings for her seventeen-year-old sister,
Isabel. The wedding dress she had made with so much care and skill,
two years agone, hid its once modish lines beneath the cover of the
cedar chest--the hope chest that Calvin had ordered for her at Stephen
Trench’s shop.
Calvin’s father had promised them the old house on High Street, to be
remodeled and furnished with the best that Rochester could provide.
Mr. Trench had twice figured on the contract, and yet Calvin dallied.
It was first one pretext and then another. Once, when he asked her what
she wanted for her birthday--it was the latter part of May, and Lavinia
would be twenty--she took her courage in her shaking hands and pleaded
for a wedding. It was an unmaidenly thing. Bromfield would have branded
her as bold. But Calvin saw in her abashed eyes the image of his own
dereliction. To be sure he still loved her. He had always intended to
make good his pledge. They would be married the middle of August, when
the G. A. R. was giving a great excursion to New York City. That would
be a honeymoon well worth the waiting.
And then, on the second of July, the President was shot. Vine was
shocked, as everyone was; but what had that to do with her wedding?
Calvin could not think of marrying while Mr. Garfield’s life was in
doubt.
The President had died, and it was now October. Vine saw Calvin almost
daily. In a little town, with the Larimore home near the middle of
the principal street, such contact was almost inevitable. But Lavinia
found no avenue of approach. Calvin was usually sullen or distraught.
Sometimes he took the long détour across the bridge and up behind
Stephen Trench’s carpenter shop, on his way to and from the bank.
This morning, with a storm brewing, he could hardly risk that walk.
He must pass the house any minute. She would stop him and demand an
explanation. She knew just what she wanted to say, and when she was
thoroughly aroused her tongue never failed her.
There was a step on the grass-grown flag-stones, an eager step. Lavinia
was on her feet--her fury gone, she knew not where, or why. He was
coming. In another minute she would be in his arms, listening to the
same old excuses, feeding her hope on the same old shreds of promise.
And then.... The front door opened and Ellen Porter’s interrogating
eyes met hers. Ellen and Ted Larimore were soon to be married, but the
early morning call had nothing to do with the fever of activity that
had disturbed the routine of two households for a month past.
“Vine, did Calvin show you what he bought in Rochester yesterday?”
“Who told you he bought anything?”
“Papa. He saw him in the jewelry store. He was looking at wedding
rings. He turned his back when he saw somebody from Bromfield; but papa
was almost sure he bought one. Viny, are you going to beat Ted and me
out, after all?”
Lavinia thought for a moment that she would suffocate. The blood
pounded in her ears and the room swam dizzily before her. And then
the storm broke. She tried to fashion some convincing reply; but the
thunder was deafening and the rain beat loudly against the windows. She
ran to get a floor cloth, when little rivulets began to trickle over
the sill. Ellen sought to help her with the transom, that was seldom
closed from spring to fall, when the door was pushed open violently
and Ted Larimore, dripping and out of temper, burst into the room. He
had forgotten something. No, he could not stop to change his coat. He
would take Ellen back to the store with him. For this, at least, his
sister was grateful. By noon she would have seen Calvin--would know the
meaning of the ring. She would see Calvin ... if she had to go to the
bank. Things could not go on this way.