For Sweet Love's Sake
All the next day the storm continued in its unabated fury. The roads were
completely blocked from fence to fence, and all sources of communication
in Glendow were cut off. Each house was a little world of its own, a
lighthouse in the midst of an ocean of snow where the long drifts piled
and curled like hungry foaming breakers.
"This is the first holiday I've had for some time," chuckled good Doctor
Leeds as he leaned back comfortably in an easy-chair, and puffed away at
his pipe. "No one can come for me to-day, that's certain."
Nellie, too, was glad, and as she watched the storm from the window a
feeling of relief came into her heart.
"Dear storm," she said to herself. "How I love you to-day. You are a stern
protector, keeping out all prying eyes and malignant tongues. Mr. Dobbins
will not venture out while you are abroad, and so we will have peace a
little longer."
Parson John passed a restless night, moaning much from the pain in his
shoulder. Towards morning, however, he passed into a comfortable sleep,
and did not wake until near noon. Nellie and the doctor had a long chat
together. He told her about the accident, and she related to him the
incident of the constable's visit to the Rectory.
"The brute!" roared the doctor, when Nellie had finished. "Farrington's a
scoundrel! Why can't he leave decent people alone! He's always meddling
with someone. He's never happy unless he's persecuting people. Oh, I've
known him for years. And so he wants to have your father arrested, does
he, for saving the Stickles' cow?"
"Yes," Nellie replied, "and I'm dreading the effect it will have upon my
father."
"I see, I see," mused the doctor, while his eyes closed in a dreamy sort
of a way. "It will not be for his good, that's certain. But there's a way,
lassie, there's a way; don't forget that."
"What do you mean, Doctor?"
"I was just thinking what a villain Farrington is, and in what an
underhanded way he works. But he leaves a loophole every time. Let me tell
you something."
Then the doctor leaned over, and what he said brought back the colour into
Nellie's face, and made her heart beat fast, and sent her about her
household duties with a new spirit.
During the next night the storm cleared, and the morning sun transformed
the vast, white fields into a shining, sparkling glory. Nellie was early
astir, finished her household duties, cared for her father, who was
steadily improving, ere the doctor made his appearance.
"I'm going to leave you in charge awhile this morning," she remarked as
the latter was eating his breakfast. "The day is bright and those large
drifts are so tempting, that I long for a snowshoe tramp. I have been in
the house so long that I must have a breath of fresh air."
"Good!" replied the doctor. "It's just what you need. You had better make
the most of it, too, while I am here, for as soon as the roads are broken
I must be away. There are many patients to be looked after."
"Thank you, Doctor, very much. I know father will not mind my absence for
a short time," Nellie responded, as she hurried away to make ready for her
tramp.
A pretty figure she presented as she stood a little later before the door
and bade the doctor good-bye. Snowshoeing she loved, and she had often
travelled for miles with Stephen in the clear bracing air. But to-day she
was not on pleasure bent, and her heart beat fast as she moved on her way.
No sign of life did she see as steadily she plodded forward over the
yielding snow. An hour later when she stood before Farrington's house and
laid aside her snowshoes, her face was flushed with a healthy glow caused
by the vigorous exercise. Her courage almost failed as she knocked upon
the door, and waited for it to be opened. It was Mrs. Farrington who came,
and great was her astonishment when she found who was there.
"Why, it's Nellie Westmore, I do declare!" she exclaimed. "Come right in,
dear, and lay your wraps aside. I'm so glad to see ye. But how in the
world did ye git here?"
"I snowshoed all the way," was the quiet reply, "and I have come to see
Mr. Farrington. Is he in?"
"Why certainly. He's in the store. I'll call 'im at once," and Mrs.
Farrington bustled off, wondering what in the world brought Nellie on such
a morning.
As Farrington entered the house a few minutes later, Nellie rose to meet
him. She knew that now was the crucial moment, and a prayer went up from
her heart for guidance. She was surprised at her own calmness as she
looked into the face of the man who was causing her so much worry.
"I'm very glad to see ye, Nellie," and Farrington stretched out a big fat
hand. "Set down, please."
"No, thank you, Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied. "I prefer to stand. I do
not wish to keep you long. I've come to see you this morning on behalf of
my father."
"Umph!" ejaculated Farrington, as he threw himself into an easy-chair.
"You know," continued Nellie, "my father met with a bad accident night
before last, and is now confined to his bed, and I have come to ask you
not to let Mr. Dobbins trouble him while he is in his weak condition.. I
feel quite sure you will do this."
"Ye want me to spare 'im, do ye?" Farrington blurted out. "Spare the man
who has injured me above measure!"
"Indeed! And in what way?" Nellie applied.
"In what way? do ye ask. Why, didn't he outbid me in the Frenelle
homestead? Doesn't he refuse to buy goods at my store; an' then, to cap it
all, interfered with my hired man when he went after that cow? Hev I any
right to spare 'im? Tell me that."
"You have the right of consideration for an old man. My father is aging
fast, and any trouble worries him so much. He doesn't know about what you
intend to do, and I hope I can prevail upon you to go no further."
Nellie's voice was low and pathetic, and she made some impression upon
Farrington, for when she had finished he did not at once reply. He sat
looking at her, thinking how pretty she was.
"Nellie," he at length remarked, "we've allus been very fond of ye. We've
known ye ever sense ye was a baby, an' ye seem like one of our own. Ye hev
a good eddication, an' bein' a lady ye are well fitted to adorn a good
man's home. Now, our Dick is a most promisin' feller, who thinks a sight
of ye, so if ye'd consent to look upon him favourably, it ud please us all
mighty well. Besides----"
"Mr. Farrington!" interrupted Nellie, "what do you mean? What do I
understand you to say? Do you----"
"Wait a minute, my dear," remonstrated Farrington. "It's jist as well fer
ye to consider this reasonable proposition fust as last. Yer dad's gittin'
old now, so he can't last much longer; an' ye'll hev a home."
"An' jist think, Nellie dear," spoke up Mrs. Farrington, "what an
advantage it'll be to ye. Richard'll inherit the hull of our property some
day. He will be a gentleman, an' the son of a gentleman, too--of a good
old fambly. It'll be a very gratifyin' thing, too, fer ye to know that
Richard's father was a Councillor of Glendow. So now, dear, give up that
uncouth Frenelle boy, an' take on with our son Richard."
Nellie's cheeks were flushed a deep crimson now, and her eyes were
flashing with an angry light. Her heart was filled with disgust at these
cool, self-satisfied schemers. Had they been less confident of their own
importance they would have realized that they were treading on dangerous
ground. They could not comprehend that back of Nellie's quiet, reserved
demeanour there was a moral courage which would rise to any height of
self-sacrifice at the call of duty, or in defence of those she loved. They
had known her from childhood, and to natures such as theirs her gentleness
and retiring disposition were interpreted as weakness or lack of proper
spirit. To be suddenly awakened from such an idea was startling in the
extreme.
"Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied, holding herself in check with a mighty
effort, "I am very much astonished at the words I have just heard. I came
here to talk to you as a lady would talk to a gentleman. But great is my
surprise to be insulted to my face. You have no right to speak to me as
you have done this morning, or to take such liberties as regards Stephen
Frenelle. He is a real gentleman's son, and has the true instincts of a
gentleman. We were children together, and I do not wish you to speak of
him or any friend of mine in a slighting manner. As to your remarks in
reference to your son, they are so unworthy of a father and mother that
they arouse in me the feelings of deepest pity for you. I blush to think
that you should ever suggest such a thing, and am surprised that your
better nature does not assert itself, and cause you to cover your heads in
shame for having uttered such words."
Nellie spoke rapidly with her eyes fixed full upon Farrington's face. The
latter shifted uneasily at this torrent of words, and occasionally glanced
at his wife, who was sitting near with open-mouthed wonder.
"Dear me, dear me!" Mrs. Farrington replied. "I allus thought ye was sich
a nice, modest little thing, an' to think that ye should go on like this.
What would yer dear mother think if she was livin'?"
"You are a mother, Mrs. Farrington," Nellie responded, "and what would you
think if anyone made such a proposition to Eudora as you have made to me?"
"Oh, that's a different question."
"And in what way?"
"Oh, Eudora will hev money, an' will not be left penniless, while you an'
yer father are jist dependin' upon the parish."
"Yes, I know it only too well," Nellie bitterly answered. "We are little
more than paupers, trusting to the voluntary offerings of the people for
our support. But then, this has little to do with what I came here for. We
have wandered from the subject. I came simply to speak on behalf of my
father."
"Oh, that matter's settled now once and fer all," Farrington replied in a
cool, matter-of-fact manner. "Ye've taken the bizness into yer own hands.
We've made ye a good offer, an' ye've refused pint blank, so we'll
consider this little affair atween us settled. Sam Dobbins is in the store
waitin' fer me, so I shall tell 'im to go ahead an' serve the summons."
"Stop a minute," Nellie demanded, as Farrington rose to his feet,
stretched himself, and started leisurely towards the door.
"There's something you evidently have not considered which might change
matters a little. I came here this morning trusting to get your consent to
leave my father alone without any unnecessary trouble. I appealed to your
manhood, but in vain. Now, there is only one course open to me, which I
will be obliged to take."
"Hey, what's this?" and Farrington's brow knitted in perplexity. "I don't
understand you."
"No, certainly you don't, but you will presently. I would like to ask who
it was you sent out after the Stickles' cow?"
"Why, Pete, of course; my hired man. He allus does that work fer me, an'
has taken dozens of 'em at various times."
"Yes, so I have heard," and Nellie's voice was charged with a warning
note. "But were you not afraid of the risk you were running, Mr.
Farrington?"
"Risk? what risk? I never had any trouble. What do you mean?"
"But is Pete a constable?"
"A constable, be blowed! What are ye drivin' at?"
"Did he have a warrant from a magistrate to go to the Stickles' place,
open the door, enter the barn, and try to take away that cow?"
"N-no, certainly not. But he never had one afore, an' everything was all
right."
"Yes, it was all right as far as you were concerned, because no one
interfered, and the people were always too poor to make a fuss. But do you
know that you have laid yourself open to a grave offence? In the eyes of
the law you tried to steal that cow from the Stickles."
"Girl! Girl! What do ye mean by talkin' this way?" and Farrington bounded
from his chair in a rage. "Explain to me at once what ye mean by sich
words!"
"There's nothing much to explain, Mr. Farrington. Without a warrant, or
any legal authority, you sent your servant to break into a private barn,
and lead away a cow belonging to Mr. Stickles. Because my father
interfered you wish to have him arrested. I hope you see the point."
Farrington was certainly a study just then. His eyes glowered, and his
face was inflamed with rage. He was in a trap and he knew it.
"Ye'll pay fer this!" he cried, stamping upon the floor, in anger.
"Ye'll--Ye'll----!"
"Very well," Nellie calmly replied. "I've simply told you your position,
so now if you wish to go ahead, do so. You will know what to expect.
Perhaps I have been a better friend to you than you now imagine. Remember,
we have friends, who know a thing or two, and besides, if you are not
careful, something may go wrong on election day."
"Who told you this, girl?" Farrington demanded. "Who put ye up to this
bizness?"
"That's my own affair. I have warned you, so go ahead if you care to. I
shall say no more."
With that she turned and walked quietly out of the house, put on her
snowshoes, and started on her homeward way. But the trying ordeal through
which she had passed told upon her. She trembled violently, and a great
weakness came over her. She felt that she would sink down upon the snow.
How could she continue? She looked all around, but no sign of life could
she behold; no one to aid her. What was she to do? She thought of her
father. Was he waiting for her, perhaps wondering where she was? With a
great effort she moved slowly forward, and presently found her strength
returning. On and on she plodded. Never had the snowshoes seemed so heavy,
or the way so long, and right glad was she to see at last the Rectory rise
up large and homelike before her. She reached the door, doffed the
snowshoes, entered the house, hurried to her own room, and throwing
herself upon her bed, wept as if her heart would break. She was tired--oh,
so tired. The tears brought a blessed relief to her surcharged feelings,
and when she at length sought her father's side a sunny smile illumined
her face, her step was firm, and little remained to show to a casual
observer the fierce struggle through which she had recently passed.