BURT'S SORE DILEMMA
Mr. Hargrove greeted Amy cordially, but his questioning eyes rested
oftenest on his daughter. Her expression and manner caused him to pace
his study long and late that night. Mrs. Hargrove was very polite and a
little stately. She felt that she existed on a plane above Amy.
The young girls soon pleaded fatigue, and retired. Once in the seclusion
of their room they forgot all about their innocent fib, and there was not
a trace of weariness in their manner. While Burt was staring at his
dismal, tangled fortune, seeing no solution of his difficulties, a
fateful conference relating to him was taking place. Amy did not look
like a scorner, as with a sister's love and a woman's tact she pleaded
his cause and palliated his course to one incapable of harsh judgment.
But she felt that she must be honest with her friend, and that the whole
truth would be best and safest. Her conclusion was: "No man who loved
_you_, and whom you encouraged, would ever change. I know now that I
never had a particle of such feeling as you have for Burt, and can see
that I naturally chilled and quenched his regard for me."
Miss Hargrove's dark eyes flashed ominously as she spoke of Burt or of
any man proving faithless after she had given encouragement.
"But it wasn't possible for me to give him any real encouragement," Amy
persisted. "I've never felt as you do, and am not sure that I want to for
a long time."
"How about Webb?" Miss Hargrove almost said, but she suppressed the
words, feeling that since he had not revealed his secret she had no right
to do so. Indeed, as she recalled how sedulously he had guarded it she
was sure he would not thank her for suggesting it to Amy before she was
ready for the knowledge. Impetuous as Miss Hargrove was at times, she had
too fine a nature to be careless of the rights and feelings of others.
Moreover, she felt that Webb had been her ally, whether consciously or
not, and he should have his chance with all the help she could give him,
but she was wise enough to know that obtrusion and premature aid are
often disastrous.
The decision, after this portentous conference, was: "Mr. Bart must seek
me, and seek very zealously. I know you well enough Amy, to be sure that
you will give him no hints. It's bad enough to love a man before I've
been asked to do so. What an utterly perverse and unmanageable thing
one's heart is! I shall do no angling, however, nor shall I permit any."
"You may stand up straight, Gertrude," said Amy, laughing, "but don't
lean over backward."
Burt entertained half a dozen wild and half-tragic projects before he
fell asleep late that night, but finally, in utter self-disgust, settled
down on the prosaic and not irrational one of helping through with the
fall work on the farm, and then of seeking some business or profession to
which he could give his whole mind. "As to ladies' society," he
concluded, savagely, "I'll shun it hereafter till I'm grown up."
Burt always attained a certain kind of peace and the power to sleep after
he had reached an irrevocable decision.
During the night the wind veered to the east, and a cold, dismal
rain-storm set in. Dull and dreary indeed the day proved to Burt. He
could not go out and put his resolution into force. He fumed about the
house, restless, yet reticent. He would rather have fought dragons than
keep company with his own thoughts in inaction. All the family supposed
he missed Amy, except Webb, who hoped he missed some one else.
"Why don't you go over and bring Amy home, Burt?" his mother asked, at
the dinner-table. "The house seems empty without her, and everybody is
moping. Even father has fretted over his newspaper, and wished Amy was
here."
"Why can't they print an edition of the paper for old men and dark days?"
said the old gentleman, discontentedly.
"Well," remarked Leonard, leaning back in his chair, and looking
humorously at Maggie, "I'm sorry for you young fellows, but I'm finding
the day serene."
"Of course you are," snapped Burt. "With an armchair to doze in and a
dinner to look forward to, what more do you wish? As for Webb, he can
always get astride of some scientific hobby, no matter how bad the
weather is."
"As for Burt, he can bring Amy home, and then every one will be
satisfied," added his mother, smiling.
Thus a new phase of his trial presented itself to poor Burt. He must
either face those two girls after their night's conclave, with all its
possible revelations, or else awaken at once very embarrassing surmises.
Why shouldn't he go for Amy? all would ask. "Well, why shouldn't I?" he
thought. "I may as well face it out." And in a mood of mingled
recklessness and fear he drove through the storm. When his name was
announced the girls smiled significantly, but went down looking as
unconscious as if they had not spoken of him in six months, and Burt
could not have been more suave, non-committal, and impartially polite if
these ladies had been as remote from his thoughts as one of Webb's
theories. At the same time he intimated that he would be ready to return
when Amy was.
At parting the friends gave each other a little look of dismay, and he
caught it from the same telltale mirror that persisted in taking a part
in this drama.
"Aha!" though the young fellow, "so they have been exchanging confidences,
and my manner is disconcerting--not what was expected. If I have become a
jest between them it shall be a short-lived one. Miss Hargrove, with all
her city experience, shall find that I'm not so young and verdant but that
I can take a hand in this game also. As for Amy, I now know she never cared
for me, and I don't believe she ever would;" and so he went away with
laughing repartee, and did not see the look of deep disappointment with
which he was followed.
Amy was perplexed and troubled. Her innocent schemes might not be so
easily accomplished if Burt would be wrong-headed. She was aware of the
dash of recklessness in his character, and feared that under the impulse
of pride he might spoil everything, or, at least, cause much needless
delay.
With the fatality of blundering which usually attends upon such
occasions, he did threaten to fulfil her fears, and so successfully that
Amy was in anxiety, and Miss Hargrove grew as pale as she was resolute
not to make the least advance, while poor Webb felt that his suspense
never would end. Burt treated Amy in an easy, fraternal manner. He
engaged actively in the task of gathering and preparing for market the
large crop of apples, and he openly broached the subject of going into a
business of some kind away from home, where, he declared, with a special
meaning for Amy, he was not needed, adding: "It's time I was earning my
salt and settling down to something for life. Webb and Len can take care
of all the land, and I don't believe I was cut out for a farmer."
He not only troubled Amy exceedingly, but he perplexed all the family,
for it seemed that he was decidedly taking a new departure. One evening,
a day or two after he had introduced the project of going elsewhere, his
father, to Amy's dismay, suggested that he should go to the far West and
look after a large tract of land which the old gentleman had bought some
years before. It was said that a railroad was to be built through it,
and, if so, the value of the property would be greatly enhanced, and
steps should be taken to get part of it into the market. Burt took hold
of the scheme with eagerness, and was for going as soon as possible.
Looking to note the effect of his words upon Amy, he saw that her
expression was not only reproachful, but almost severe. Leonard heartily
approved of the plan. Webb was silent, and in deep despondency, feeling
that if Bart went now nothing would be settled. He saw Amy's aversion to
the project also, and misinterpreted it.
She was compelled to admit that the prospects were growing very dark.
Burt might soon depart for an indefinite absence, and Miss Hargrove
return to the city. Amy, who had looked upon the mutations in her own
prospects so quietly, was almost feverishly eager to aid her friend. She
feared she had blundered on the mountain ride. Burt's pride had been
wounded, and he had received the impression that his April-like moods had
been discussed satirically. It was certain that he had been very deeply
interested in Gertrude, and that he was throwing away not only his
happiness, but also hers; and Amy felt herself in some degree to blame.
Therefore she was bent upon ending the senseless misunderstanding, but
found insurmountable embarrassments on every side. Miss Hargrove was
prouder than Burt. Wild horses could not draw her to the Cliffords', With
a pale, resolute face, she declined even to put herself in the way of
receiving the least advance. Amy would gladly have taken counsel of Webb,
but could not do so without revealing her friend's secret, and also
disclosing mere surmises about Burt, which, although amounting to
conviction in her mind, could not be mentioned. Therefore, from the very
delicacy of the situation, she felt herself helpless. Nature was her
ally, however, and if all that was passing in Burt's mind had been
manifest, the ardent little schemer would not have been so despondent.
The best hope of Burt had been that he had checkmated the girls in their
disposition to make jesting comparisons, He would retire with so much
nonchalance as to leave nothing to be said. They would find complete
inaction and silence hard to combat. But the more he thought of it the
less it seemed like an honorable retreat. He had openly wooed one girl,
he had since lost his heart to another, and she had given him a glimpse
of strong regard, if not more. His thoughts were busy with her every word
and glance. How much had his tones and eyes revealed to her? Might she
not think him a heartless flirt if he continued to avoid her and went
away without a word? Would it not be better to be laughed at as one who
did not know his own mind than be despised for deliberate trifling? Amy
had asked him to go and spend an evening with her friend, and he had
pleaded weariness as an excuse. Her incredulous look and rather cool
manner since had not been reassuring. She had that very morning broached
the subject of a chestnutting party for the following day, and he had
promptly said that he was going to the city to make inquiries about
routes to the West.
"Why, Burt, you can put off your trip to town for a day," said his
mother. "If you are to leave us so soon you should make the most of the
days that are left."
"That is just what he is doing," Amy remarked, satirically. "He has
become absorbed in large business considerations. Those of us who have
not such resources are of no consequence."
The old people and Leonard believed that Amy was not pleased with the
idea of Burt's going away, but they felt that she was a little
unreasonable, since the young fellow was rather to be commended for
wishing to take life more seriously. But her words rankled in Burt's
mind. He felt that she understood him better than the others, and that he
was not winning respect from her. In the afternoon he saw her, with Alf
and Johnnie, starting for the chestnut-trees, and although she passed not
far away she gave him only a slight greeting, and did not stop for a
little merry banter, as usual. The young fellow was becoming very
unhappy, and he felt that his position was growing intolerable. That Amy
should be cold toward him, or, indeed, toward any one, was an unheard-of
thing, and he knew that she must feel that there was good reason for her
manner. "And is there not?" he asked himself, bitterly. "What are she and
Miss Hargrove thinking about me?"
The more he thought upon the past the more awkward and serious appeared
his dilemma, and his long Western journey, which at first he had welcomed
as promising a diversion of excitement and change, now began to appear
like exile. He dreaded to think of the memories he must take with him;
still more he deprecated the thoughts he would leave behind him. His
plight made him so desperate that he suddenly left the orchard where he
was gathering apples, went to the house, put on his riding-suit, and in a
few moments was galloping furiously away on his black horse. With a
renewal of hope Webb watched his proceedings, and with many surmises,
Amy, from a distant hillside, saw him passing at a break-neck pace.