A GENTLE EXORCIST
Burt's black horse was again white before he approached his home. In the
distance he saw Amy returning, the children running on before, Alf
whooping like a small Indian to some playmate who was answering further
away. The gorgeous sunset lighted up the still more brilliant foliage,
and made the scene a fairyland. But Burt had then no more eye for nature
than a man would have who had staked his all on the next throw of the
dice. Amy was alone, and now was his chance to intercept her before she
reached the house. Imagine her surprise as she saw him make his horse
leap the intervening fences, and come galloping toward her.
"Burt," she cried, as he, in a moment or two, reined up near her, "you
will break your neck!"
"It wouldn't matter much," he said, grimly. "I fear a worse fate than
that."
"What do you mean?" she asked, in alarm. "What has happened?"
He threw the bridle over a stake in the fence, and the horse was glad to
rest, with drooping head. Then he came and stood beside her, his face
flushed, and his mouth twitching with excitement and strong feeling. For
a moment he could not speak.
"Burt," she said, "what is the matter? What do you fear?"
"I fear your scorn, Amy," he began, impetuously; "I fear I shall lose
your respect forever. But I can't go on any longer detesting myself and
feeling that you and Miss Hargrove despise me. I may seem to you and her
a fickle fool, a man of straw, but you shall both know the truth. I
shan't go away a coward. I can at least be honest, and then you may think
what you please of my weakness and vacillation. You cannot think worse
things than I think myself, but you must not imagine that I am a
cold-blooded, deliberate trifler, for that has never been true. I know
you don't care for me, and never did."
"Indeed, Burt, you are mistaken. I do care for you immensely," said Amy,
eagerly clasping his arm with both her hands.
"Amy, Amy," said Burt, in a low, desperate tone, "think how few short
months have passed since I told you I loved you, and protested I would
wait till I was gray. You have seen me giving my thoughts to another, and
in your mind you expect to see me carried away by a half-dozen more. You
are mistaken, but it will take a long time to prove it."
"No, Burt, I understand you better than you think. Gertrude has inspired
in you a very different feeling from the one you had for me. I think you
are loving now with a man's love, and won't get over it very soon, if you
ever do. You have seen, you must have felt, that my love for you was only
that of a sister, and of course you soon began to feel toward me in the
same way. I don't believe I would have married you had you waited an age.
Don't fret, I'm not going to break my heart about you."
"I should think not, nor will any one else. Oh, Amy, I so despised myself
that I have been half-desperate."
"Despised yourself because you love a girl like Gertrude Hargrove! I
never knew a man to do a more natural and sensible thing, whether she
gave you encouragement or not. If I were a man I would make love to her,
rest assured, and she would have to refuse me more than once to be rid of
me."
Burt took a long breath of immense relief. "You are heavenly kind," he
said. "Are you sure you won't despise me? I could not bear that. It seems
to me that I have done such an awfully mean thing in making love to you
in my own home, and then in changing."
Her laugh rang out merrily. "Fate has been too strong for you, and I
think--I mean--I hope, it has been kind. Bless you, Burt, I could never
get up any such feeling as sways you. I should always be disappointing,
and you would have found out, sooner or later, that your best chance
would be to discover some one more responsive. Since you have been so
frank, I'll be so too. I was scarcely more ready for your words last
spring than Johnnie, but I was simple enough to think that in half a
dozen years or so we might be married if all thought it was best, and my
pride was a little hurt when I saw what--what--well, Gertrude's influence
over you. But I've grown much older the last few months, and know now
that my thoughts were those of a child. My feeling for you is simply that
of a sister, and I don't believe it would ever have changed. Who knows? I
might eventually have an acute attack also, and then I should be in a
worse predicament than yours."
"But you will be my loving sister as long as you live, Amy? You will
believe that I have a little manhood if given a chance to show it?"
"I believe it now, Burt, and I can make you a hundredfold better sister
than wife. The idea! It seems but the other day I was playing with dolls.
Here, now, cheer up. You have judged yourself too harshly;" and she
looked at him so smilingly and affectionately that he took her in his
arms and kissed her again and again, exclaiming, "You can count on one
brother to the last drop of his blood. Oh, Amy, whatever happens now, I
won't lose courage. Miss Hargrove will have to say no a dozen times
before she is through with me."
At this moment Webb, from the top of a tall ladder in the orchard,
happened to glance that way, and saw the embrace. He instantly descended,
threw down his basket of apples, and with it all hope. Burt had won Amy
at last. The coolness between them had been but a misunderstanding, which
apparently had been banished most decidedly. He mechanically took down
his ladder and placed it on the ground, then went to his room to prepare
for supper.
"Burt," cried Amy, when they were half-way home, "you have forgotten your
horse."
"If he were Pegasus, I should have forgotten him to-day. Won't you wait
for me?"
"Oh, yes, I'll do anything for you."
"Will you?" he said, eagerly. "Will you tell me if you think Miss
Hargrove--"
"No, I won't tell you anything. The idea! After she has refused you half
a dozen times, I may, out of pity, intercede a little. Go get your horse,
smooth your brow, and be sensible, or you'll have Webb and Leonard poking
fun at you. Suppose they have seen you galloping over fences and ditches
like one possessed."
"Well, I was possessed, and never was there such a kind, gentle exorcist.
I have seen Miss Hargrove to-day; I had just parted from her."
"Did you say anything?"
"No, Amy. How could I, until I had told you? I felt I was bound to you by
all that can bind a man."
"Oh, Burt, suppose I had not released you, but played Shylock, what would
you have done?" and her laugh rang out again in intense merriment.
"I had no fears of that," he replied, ruefully. "You are the last one to
practice Mrs. MacStinger's tactics. My fear was that you and Miss
Hargrove both would send me West as a precious good riddance."
"Well, it was square of you, as Alf says, to come to me first, and I
appreciate it, but I should not have resented the omission. Will you
forgive my curiosity if I ask what is the next move in the campaign? I've
been reading about the war, you know, and I am quite military in my
ideas."
"I have Miss Hargrove's permission to call to-night. It wasn't given very
cordially, and she asked me to bring you."
"No, I thank yon."
"Oh, I told her she would have to forgive me if I came alone. I meant to
have it out to-day, if old Chaos came again." When Amy's renewed laughter
so subsided that he could speak, he resumed: "I'm going over there after
supper, to ask her father for permission to pay my addresses, and if he
won't give it, I shall tell him I will pay them all the same--that I
shall use every effort in my power to win his daughter. I don't want a
dollar of his money, but I'm bound to have the girl if she'll ever listen
to me after knowing all you know."
Amy's laugh ceased, and she again clasped her hands on his arm. "Dear
Burt," she said, "your course now seems to me manly and straightforward.
I saw the strait you were in, but did not think you felt it so keenly. In
going West I feared you were about to run away from it. However Gertrude
may treat you, you have won my respect by your downright truth. She may
do as she pleases, but she can't despise you now. There goes your horse
to the stable. He has learned this afternoon that you are in no state of
mind to take care of him."