His enormous difficulty would be to bring Lucy to the understanding
of his new--but it was the old--attitude toward her. If she had never
become completely familiar to him association had made him a solid
recognized part of her existence; if not exactly a father, an uncle at
the very least. Calvin realized that she would be profoundly shocked
by any abrupt revelation of his feeling. Yet he was for the time in no
hurry to bring about the desired change in their relationship. His
life had been so long empty that it was enough to dwell on the great
happiness of his repossession.
This, he knew, could not continue, but at present, today, it was almost
enough. Before he was aware, the summer had gone, the mountains were
sheeted in gold; and he was still dreaming, putting off the actuality
before them.
The logging in Sugarloaf Valley had grown to an operation of importance,
and a great deal of his time was spent watching the spur of railroad
creep forward and the clearing of new sections; sawmills and camps were
in course of erection; and what had been a still green cleft in the
mountains was filled with human activity. He had secured an advantageous
position for a young man from the part of the county inhabited by the
Stammark family, Wilmer Deakon, and consulted with him frequently in
connection with his interests.
Wilmer was to the last degree dependable; a large grave individual who
took a serious interest in the welfare of his fellows and supported
established customs and institutions. He sang in a resounding barytone
with the Methodist Church choir; his dignified bearing gave weight to
the school board; and he accumulated a steadily growing capital at the
Greenstream bank. An admirable individual, Calvin thought, and extended
to him the wide hospitality of his house.
Lucy apparently had little to say to Wilmer Deakon; indeed, when he
was not present, to their great amusement she imitated his deliberate
balanced speech. She said that he was too solemn--an opinion with which
Calvin privately agreed--and made an irreverent play on his name and the
place he should occupy in the church. It seemed that she found a special
pleasure in annoying him; and on an occasion when Calvin had determined
to reprove her for this he was surprised by Winner's request to speak to
him outside.
Wilmer Deakon said abruptly: “Lucy and I are promised to each other.”
Calvin stood gazing at him in a lowering complete surprise, at a loss
for words, when the other continued with an intimation of his peculiar
qualifications for matrimony, the incontrovertible fact that he could
and would take care of Lucy. He stopped at the appropriate moment and
waited confidently for Calvin Stammark's approval.
The latter, out of a gathering immeasurable rage, almost shouted: “You
get to hell off my place!”
Wilmer Deakon was astounded but otherwise unshaken. “That's no way to
answer a decent man and a proper question,” he replied. “Lucy and I want
to be married. There's nothing wrong with that. But you look as if I had
offered to disgrace her. Why, Mr. Stammark, you can't keep her forever.
I reckon it'll be hard on you to have her go, but you must make up your
mind to it some day. She's willing, and you know all about me. Then Lucy
won't be far away from you all. I've cleared the brush up and right now
the bottom of our house is laid in Sugarloaf.”
Calvin's anger sank before a sense of helplessness at this latter fact.
Wilmer was building a house for her just as he had built one for Hannah.
He remembered his delight and pride as it had approached completion; he
remembered the evening, nearly twenty years ago, when he had sat on the
bank across the road and seen it finished. Then he had ridden, without
waiting to fix up, to the Braleys'; Hannah had scolded him as they sat
in the parlor.
“I must talk to Lucy,” he said in a different weary tone. Bareheaded he
walked over into the pasture, now his. The cattle moved vaguely in the
gloom, with softly blowing nostrils, and the streams were like smooth
dark ribbons. When he returned to his house the lights were out, Wilmer
Deakon was gone and Lucy was in bed.
He again examined his countenance in the mirror, but now he was
surprised that it was not haggard with age. It seemed that twenty more
years had been added to him since supper. He wondered whether there had
ever been another man who had lost his love twice and saw that he had
been a blind fool for not speaking in the June dusk when Lucy had come
back from school.
Lucy, it developed, had spoken to Ettie, and there was a general
discussion of her affair at breakfast.
Calvin carried away from it a persistent feeling of dissatisfaction,
but for this he could find no tangible reason. Of course, he silently
argued, the girl could not be expected to show her love for Wilmer
publicly; it was enough that he had been assured of its strength; the
fact of her agreement to marry him was final.
He went about his daily activities with a heavy absent-mindedness, with
a dragging spirit. A man was coming from Washington to see him in the
interest of a new practically permanent fencing, and he met him at
the post-office, listened to a loud cheerful greeting with marked
inattention.
The salesman was named Martin Eckles, and he was fashionably dressed in
a suit of shepherd's check bound with braid, and had a flashing ring--a
broad gold band set with a mystic symbol in rubies and diamonds. After
his supper at the hotel he walked, following Calvin's direction, the
short distance to the latter's house, where Calvin and Ettie Stammark
and Lucy were seated on the porch.
Martin Eckles, it developed, was a fluent and persuasive talker, a man
of the broadest worldly experiences and wit. He was younger than Calvin,
but older than Wilmer Deakon, and a little fat. He had a small mustache
cut above his lip, and closely shaved ruddy cheeks with a tinge of
purple about his ears. Drawing out his monologue entertainingly he gazed
repeatedly at Lucy. Calvin lost the sense of most that the other said;
he was immersed in the past that had been made the present and then
denied to him--it was all before him in the presence of Lucy, of Hannah
come back with the unforgetable and magic danger of her appeal.