Jane Plays Mouse to the Lion
It can well be understood that Jane had no disposition to return to
Mrs. Holcroft and the humdrum duties of the house. There opened before
her an exciting line of action which fully accorded with her nature,
and she entered upon it at once. Her first impulse was to follow the
man of whom she had learned so much. Not only was she spurred to this
course by her curiosity, but also by her instinctive loyalty to
Holcroft, and, it must be admitted, by her own interests. Poor little
Jane had been nurtured in a hard school, and had by this time learned
the necessity of looking out for herself. This truth, united with her
shrewd, matter-of-fact mind, led her to do the most sensible thing
under the circumstances. "I know a lot now that he'll be glad to know,
and if I tell him everything he'll keep me always. The first thing
he'll want to know is what's become of that threatenin' scamp," and she
followed Ferguson with the stealth of an Indian.
Ferguson was not only a scamp, but, like most of his class, a coward.
He had been bitterly disappointed in his interview with Alida. As far
as his selfish nature permitted, he had a genuine affection for her,
and he had thought of little else besides her evident fondness for him.
He was so devoid of moral principle that he could not comprehend a
nature like hers, and had scarcely believed it possible that she would
repulse him so inflexibly. She had always been so gentle, yielding,
and subservient to his wishes that he had thought that, having been
assured of his wife's death, a little persuasion and perhaps a few
threats would induce her to follow him, for he could not imagine her
becoming attached to such a man as Holcroft had been described to be.
Her uncompromising principle had entered but slightly into his
calculations, and so, under the spur of anger and selfishness, he had
easily entered upon a game of bluff He knew well enough that he had no
claim upon Alida, yet it was in harmony with his false heart to try to
make her think so. He had no serious intention of harming Holcroft--he
would be afraid to attempt this--but if he could so work on Alida's
fears as to induce her to leave her husband, he believed that the
future would be full of possibilities. At any rate, he would find his
revenge in making Alida and Holcroft all the trouble possible. Even in
the excitement of the interview, however, he realized that he was
playing a dangerous game, and when Jane answered so readily to Alida's
call he was not a little disturbed. Satisfied that he had accomplished
all that he could hope for at present, his purpose now was to get back
to town unobserved and await developments. He therefore walked rapidly
down the lane and pursued the road for a short distance until he came
to an old, disused lane, leading up the hillside into a grove where he
had concealed a horse and buggy. Unless there should be necessity, it
was his intention to remain in his hiding place until after nightfall.
Jane had merely to skirt the bushy hillside higher up, in order to keep
Ferguson in view and discover the spot in which he was lurking.
Instead of returning to the house she kept right on, maintaining a
sharp eye on the road beneath to make sure that Holcroft did not pass
unobserved. By an extended detour, she reached the highway and
continued toward town in the hope of meeting the farmer. At last she
saw him driving rapidly homeward. He was consumed with anxiety to be
at least near to Alida, even if, as he believed, he was no longer
welcome in her presence. When Jane stepped out into the road he pulled
up his horses and stared at her. She, almost bursting with her great
secrets, put her finger on her lips and nodded portentously.
"Well, what is it?" he asked, his heart beating quickly.
"I've got a lot to tell yer, but don't want no one to see us."
"About my wife?"
The girl nodded.
"Good God! Speak then. Is she sick?" and he sprung out and caught her
arm with a grip that hurt her.
"Please, sir, I'm doin' all I kin for yer and--and you hurt me."
Holcroft saw the tears coming to her eyes and he released his hold as
he said, "Forgive me, Jane, I didn't mean to; but for mercy's sake,
tell your story."
"It's a long 'un."
"Well, well, give me the gist of it in a word."
"I guess she's goin' to run away."
Holcroft groaned and almost staggered to his horses' heads, then led
them to the roadside and tied them to a tree. Sitting down, as if too
weak to stand, he buried his face in his hands. He could not bear to
have Jane see his distress. "Tell your story," he said hoarsely,
"quick, for I may have to act quickly."
"Guess yer will. Did yer know she was married?"
"Certainly--to me."
"No, to another man--married by a minister. He's been there with her."
She little foresaw the effect of her words, for the farmer bounded to
his feet with an oath and sprang to his horses.
"Stop!" cried Jane, tugging at his arm. "If you go rushin' home now,
you'll show you've got no more sense than mother. You'll spoil
everything. She aint goin' to run away with HIM--she said she
wouldn't, though he coaxed and threatened to kill yer if she didn't.
'Fi's a man I wouldn't act like a mad bull. I'd find out how to get
ahead of t'other man."
"Well," said Holcroft, in a voice that frightened the child, "she said
she wouldn't run away with this scoundrel--of course not--but you say
she's going to leave. She'll meet him somewhere--good God! But how
should you understand? Come, let me get home!"
"I understand a sight more'n you do, and you go on so that I can't tell
you anything. If you showed sense, you'd be glad I was lookin' out for
you so I could tell you everything. What's the good of goin'
rampaigin' home when, if you'd only listen, you could get even with
that scoundrel, as yer call 'im, and make all right," and Jane began to
cry.
"Oh, thunder!" exclaimed the chafing man, "tell me your story at once,
or you'll drive me mad. You don't half know what you're talking about
or how much your words mean--how should you? The thing to do is to get
home as soon as possible."
"You aint no reason to be so mad and glum all the while," cried Jane,
smarting under a sense of injustice. "Here I'm a-tryin' to do for you,
and you'll be sorry ernuff if you don't stop and listen. And she's
been a-tryin' to do for you all along, and she's been standin' up for
you this afternoon, and is goin' to run away to save your life."
"Run away to save my life? Are you crazy?"
"No, but you be," cried the girl, excited and exasperated beyond
restraint. "If she IS your wife I'd stand up for her and take care of
her, since she stands up for you so. 'Stead of that, you go round as
glum as a thundercloud and now want to go ragin' home to her. Dunno
whether she's your wife or not, but I DO know she said she loved you
and 'ud die for you, and she wouldn't do a thing that man asked but go
away to save your life."
Holcroft looked at the girl as if dazed. "Said she LOVED me?" he
repeated slowly.
"Of course! You knowed that all 'long--anybody could see it--an' you
don't treat her much better'n you did mother." Then, with an impatient
gesture, she asked, "Will you sit down and listen?"
"No, I won't!" he cried, springing toward his horses. "I'll find out if
your words are true."
"Oh, yes!" said Jane contemptuously; "run right to her to find out
somethin' as plain as the nose on her face, and run right by the man
that was threatenin' her and you too."
Wheeling round, he asked, "Where is he?"
"I know, but I won't say 'nuther word till you stop goin' on. 'Fi's a
man I'd find out what to do 'fore I did anythin'."
Jane had little comprehension of the tempest she had raised in
Holcroft's soul or its causes, and so was in no mood to make allowances
for him. By this time, the first gust of his passion was passing and
reason resuming its sway. He paced up and down in the road a moment or
two, and then sat down as he said, "I don't half understand what you've
been talking about and I fear you don't. You've evidently been
listening and watching and have got hold of something. Now, I'll be as
patient as I can if you'll tell me the whole story quickly," and he
turned his flushed, quivering face toward her.
"Then I s'pose you'll scold me for listenin' and watchin' that scamp,"
said the girl sullenly.
"No, Jane, not in this case. Unless your impressions are all mistaken
I may have to thank you all my life. I'm not one to forget those who
are true to me. Now, begin at the beginning and go right through to the
end; then I may understand better than you can."
Jane did as she was told, and many "says he's" and "says she's"
followed in her literal narrative. Holroft again dropped his face into
his hands, and before she was through, tears of joy trickled through
his fingers. When she finished, he arose, turned away, and hastily
wiped his eyes, then gave the girl his hand as he said, "Thank you,
Jane. You've tried to be a true friend to me today. I'll show you
that I don't forget. I was a fool to get in such a rage, but you can't
understand and must forgive me. Come, you see I'm quiet now," and he
untied the horses and lifted her into his wagon.
"What yer doin' to do?" she asked, as they drove away.
"I'm going to reward you for watching and listening to that scoundrel,
but you must not watch me or Mrs. Holcroft, or listen to what we say
unless we speak before you. If you do, I shall be very angry. Now,
you've only one thing more to do and that is, show me where this man is
hiding."
"But you won't go near him alone?" inquired Jane in much alarm.
"You must do as I bid you," he replied sternly. "Show me where he's
hiding, then stay by the wagon and horses."
"But he same as said he'd kill you."
"You have your orders," was his quiet reply.
She looked scared enough, but remained silent until they reached a
shaded spot on the road, then said, "If you don't want him to see you
too soon, better tie here. He's around yonder, in a grove up on the
hill."
Holcroft drove to a tree by the side of the highway and again tied his
horses, then took the whip from the wagon. "Are you afraid to go with
me a little way and show me just where he is?" he asked.
"No, but you oughtn' ter go."
"Come on, then! You must mind me if you wish to keep my good will. I
know what I'm about." As in his former encounter, his weapon was again
a long, tough whipstock with a leather thong attached. This he cut off
and put in his pocket, then followed Jane's rapid lead up the hill.
Very soon she said, "There's the place I saw 'im in. If you will go,
I'd steal up on him."
"Yes. You stay here." She made no reply, but the moment he
disappeared she was upon his trail. Her curiosity was much greater
than her timidity, and she justly reasoned that she had little to fear.
Holcroft approached from a point whence Ferguson was expecting no
danger. The latter was lying on the ground, gnawing his nails in
vexation, when he first heard the farmer's step. Then he saw a
dark-visaged man rushing upon him. In the impulse of his terror, he
drew his revolver and fired. The ball hissed near, but did no harm,
and before Ferguson could use the weapon again, a blow from the
whipstock paralyzed his arm and the pistol dropped to the ground. So
also did its owner a moment later, under a vindictive rain of blows,
until he shrieked for mercy.
"Don't move!" said Holcroft sternly, and he picked up the revolver. "So
you meant to kill me, eh?"
"No, no! I didn't. I wouldn't have fired if it hadn't been in
self-defense and because I hadn't time to think." He spoke with
difficulty, for his mouth was bleeding and he was terribly bruised.
"A liar, too!" said the farmer, glowering down upon him. "But I knew
that before. What did you mean by your threats to my wife?"
"See here, Mr. Holcroft; I'm down and at your mercy. If you'll let me
off I'll go away and never trouble you or your wife again."
"Oh, no!" said Holcroft with a bitter laugh. "You'll never, never
trouble us again."
"What, do you mean to murder me?" Ferguson half shrieked.
"Would killing such a thing as you be murder? Any jury in the land
would acquit me. You ought to be roasted over a slow fire."
The fellow tried to scramble on his knees, but Holcroft hit him another
savage blow, and said, "Lie still!"
Ferguson began to wring his hands and beg for mercy. His captor stood
over him a moment or two irresolutely in his white-heated anger; then
thoughts of his wife began to soften him. He could not go to her with
blood on his hands--she who had taught him such lessons of forbearance
and forgiveness. He put the pistol in his pocket and giving his enemy
a kick, said, "Get up!"
The man rose with difficulty.
"I won't waste time in asking any promises from YOU, but if you ever
trouble my wife or me again, I'll break every bone in your body. Go,
quick, before my mood changes, and don't say a word."
As the man tremblingly untied his horse, Jane stepped out before him
and said, "I'm a little idiotic girl, am I?"
He was too thoroughly cowed to make any reply and drove as rapidly away
as the ground permitted, guiding his horse with difficulty in his
maimed condition.
Jane, in the exuberance of her pleasure, began something like a jig on
the scene of conflict, and her antics were so ridiculous that Holcroft
had to turn away to repress a smile. "You didn't mind me, Jane," he
said gravely.
"Well, sir," she replied, "after showin' you the way to 'im, you
oughter not grudge me seein' the fun."
"But it isn't nice for little girls to see such things."
"Never saw anything nicer in my life. You're the kind of man I believe
in, you are. Golly! Only wished SHE'D seen you. I've seen many a
rough and tumble 'mong farm hands, but never anything like this. It
was only his pistol I was 'fraid of."
"Will you do exactly what I say now?"
She nodded.
"Well, go home across the fields and don't by word or manner let Mrs.
Holcroft know what you've seen or heard, and say nothing about meeting
me. Just make her think you know nothing at all and that you only
watched the man out of sight. Do this and I'll give you a new dress."
"I'd like somethin' else 'sides that."
"Well, what?"
"I'd like to be sure I could stay right on with you."
"Yes, Jane, after today, as long as you're a good girl. Now go, for I
must get back to my team before this scamp goes by."
She darted homeward as the farmer returned to his wagon. Ferguson soon
appeared and seemed much startled as he saw his Nemesis again. "I'll
keep my word," he said, as he drove by.
"You'd better!" called the farmer. "You know what to expect now."
Alida was so prostrated by the shock of the interview that she rallied
slowly. At last she saw that it was getting late and that she soon
might expect the return of her husband. She dragged herself to the
door and again called Jane, but the place was evidently deserted.
Evening was coming on tranquilly, with all its sweet June sounds, but
now every bird song was like a knell. She sunk on the porch seat and
looked at the landscape, already so dear and familiar, as if she were
taking a final farewell of a friend. Then she turned to the homely
kitchen to which she had first been brought. "I can do a little more
for him," she thought, "before I make the last sacrifice which will
soon bring the end. I think I could have lived--lived, perhaps, till I
was old, if I had gone among strangers from the almshouse, but I can't
now. My heart is broken. Now that I've seen that man again I
understand why my husband cannot love me. Even the thought of touching
me must make him shudder. But I can't bear up under such a load much
longer, and that's my comfort. It's best I should go away now; I
couldn't do otherwise," and the tragedy went on in her soul as she
feebly prepared her husband's meal.
At last Jane came in with her basket of peas. Her face was so
impassive as to suggest that she had no knowledge of anything except
that there had been a visitor, and Alida had sunk into such depths of
despairing sorrow that she scarcely noticed the child.