IN SUGAR CAMP HOLLOW.
Gill did not caution Lizzi to keep their engagement secret. He knew she
would, for every true woman enjoys alone for a short time the knowledge
that her love is reciprocated. She does not hasten to tell that she has
had a proposal and accepted it. To her such conduct seems eagerness to
boast of a good bargain. And Gill reckoned rightly when he esteemed
Lizzi a true woman.
He did not speak of his intended marriage to any one but Jim Harker. It
did not occur to Lizzi that he was trying to see as little of her as
possible. Very busy at opening and marking the fall invoice of new
goods, he saw her only when he passed the Block on his way to the
warehouse, or when she came to the store. On these occasions he was very
gallant, and addressed her with a meaning in his tones and looks that
her heart quickly interpreted.
* * * * *
Sugar Camp Hollow was the shortest cut from Three-Sisters to the farm on
which an uncle of Lizzi lived. It was a long, deep ravine, where grew
great towering pines and graceful sugar-maples. These latter gave it the
name. Every spring there was a sugar-boiling at the mouth of the hollow.
In the fall and winter the deer herded in the laurel thickets near the
top of the mountain. A narrow path ran the length of the ravine, and
from a spring near the mountain-top a noisy brook rolled to the
mountain's foot and tumbled into the river.
Lizzi's aunt was ill, and, on the Sunday following her engagement,
Lizzi, with a basket full of good things, went to visit her. The day was
very still, and she enjoyed the deep silence of the woods, broken only
by the rustling of the dead leaves as she stepped lightly on them.
Sometimes she paused to let the quiet rest her.
As she turned a sharp bend in the path she discovered Gill waiting for
her, and uttered an exclamation of glad surprise. Putting down the
basket, she let him fold her in his arms. Her heart beat quickly and
strongly. He felt it throb, and a thrill startled his steady nerves.
Lifting her head from his shoulder, he took her face in both hands and
drew it slowly closer to his, feasting his eyes on it. She looked a
quick protest and then yielded. A flush mantled her cheeks.
He would have repeated the kiss, but she would not let him. Repetition
would be profanation in her eyes and he understood her refusal. Ever
after in her life she regarded that first kiss as sacred.
Usually his manner was lightsome, but to-day it was subdued.
"Why have you got such a long face, John? Ain't you glad to see me?"
"Of course I am."
He pressed her hand and looked away from her. The sad smile on his face
was succeeded by an expression of dejection.
"Sit down on this log and tell me what's the matter."
Gill sat on the log and looked down the mountain-side to the village
below. Lizzi took a seat close to him, and waited for his confidence.
Apparently he was hesitating.
"What am I for if you can't tell me your troubles?" she asked
impulsively, and caught him by the arm.
Thus encouraged, Gill said:
"I had a letter from mother, yesterday."
She withdrew her hand quickly, sat erect and waited for him to continue,
ready to become intensely jealous of that mother, who was probably some
selfish old woman that would not let her son marry.
Gill took from his pocket a neatly folded, daintily perfumed letter, the
chirography of which was like steel-engraving. From it he read:
"'There are indications in your letter just received and read with the
eagerness of a mother homesick for her only child, that your affections
for the first time in your life are feeling with restless tendrils for a
place to cling to in another woman's heart.'"
Gill could see from the corner of his eye the resolute expression melt
on Lizzi's face and a gentle glow of color appear on her cheeks, while a
soft look suffused her eyes. He continued:
"'Now I hasten to warn you. I care not how beautiful, how accomplished
the woman is who enthralls you; if I hear again of this--rather, I
should say, that if you do not write to me that you are free, I shall
make my will according to your father's directions.'"
Lizzi had placed one arm on his shoulder and was reading the beautifully
written lines, breathlessly looking for the threat she knew they
embodied. When she saw it she rose to her feet, and passed her hand
quickly over her eyes as if to brush away something that prevented her
from seeing clearly. Gill stood up too, and, grasping her shoulder with
one hand, gave her a little shake.
"Don't you see, Lizzi? I have been in love with you for a long time and
gave mother a hint to learn her opinion, and then before the reply came,
my heart broke from its bonds, and I told you my love."
"Yes?" said Lizzi, interrogatively.
"And then I got this letter, threatening to disinherit me, as my father
directed I should be if I married without my mother's consent."
"Yes?" again the plaintive interrogation. Then by a sudden great effort
she overcame the doubt that had for the moment shackled her. She loosed
his grasp, picked up the basket, and, standing erect with one foot
advanced, a queen abdicating a throne, said:
"Write to her you are free."
"But I will not."
His reply was positive. He stood before her, blocking her way, himself
aroused to earnestness that needed no affectation, for it was honest. He
had just discovered how unselfish a woman's love can be, and reckoned
upon it as the last means of retaining his promised wife.
"See," and he tore into bits the beautiful letter. "Thus do I leave my
mother for you, Elizabeth; but it will break her heart, it will shorten
her life."
His head drooped, his chin touched his chest. Lizzi was touched by his
grief, and for him had great compassion. She still held the basket on
her left bended arm. With her free hand she gave his forehead a
quivering pressure.
"Wait, John, till your mother dies; then I will be your wife."
"I cannot. I will not!"
He lifted his hand determinedly. She still held the basket, her right
hand clasping the left, her posture signifying that she was pausing for
him to let her pass. He gave her an imploring look, but she was
inflexible. Her face had assumed a softened yet determined expression.
Regret and resolve had mingled their lines and gave her features a sad
tenderness. She was merciful, yet resolute.
Gill pulled aside the overhanging branch of a tree and bowed to let her
pass.
A sigh parted her lips as she gave him her hand in farewell. He seized
it eagerly and held it firmly. She endeavored to take it from him, but
not rudely. He loosed his grasp slightly and his hold became clinging in
its significance. Her bursting heart, for she was giving up her life to
her pride, rightly interpreted the meaning of this change in the
pressure of his hand, and she thought of the tendrils spoken of in his
mother's letter. Yes, they clung to her heart, and she could not roughly
tear them away. So she lingered.
He gave her hand a pull, bending it until the wrist would not give way.
Holding it thus, he said despairingly.
"I thought, Lizzi, you could arrange it some way."
He tried to lift her hand to his lips, but her wrist was firm.
"Can't you help me, Lizzi?"
The wrist yielded, her hand was at his lips. She let him kiss it, and
then set down her basket.
Gill knew he had won. But she would have her hand free, for that would
give her a feeling of independence. At the first hint he released it.
She interlocked it with the other and looked meditatively at the ground,
moving a loose stone with the toe of her shoe.
"I don't like bein' married as if I was ashamed of it."
She was suggesting a clandestine marriage, just what he wanted. He met
the question frankly.
"It does look cowardly in me to ask such a thing; but if I get that
money, I could buy an interest in the furnaces from Colonel Hornberger,
and we could live as well as they do."
"It would be nice to have a home like the Hornbergers'. If we was rich,
I'd want long hair. Guess it will grow, though;" and she ran one hand
through it, shaking it out.
"I like it better as it is," and he played with it too.
"Do you, dear? Then I'll never have it long again."
"And your father is old enough to quit working. We could give him and
your mother a good home, and I'd help Levi become a lawyer. We could do
lots of things if we had mother's money. She is old and won't live long,
perhaps a couple of years."
"Let us wait for two years."
"No, I will not. If you do not marry me, I will go away."
"John, would you marry me and give up the money--marry me before people
and send your mother word?"
"I would, indeed."
"Then I will marry you and not let people know."
"Thank you, sweetheart. You are so good!"
He would have kissed her again, but she would not let him. Her heart was
sore at having consented to a secret marriage.
"Let us be married on Wednesday night after prayer-meeting."
"Oh! I couldn't get a new dress by that time."
Gill laughed at her vanity.
"I thought you looked the prettiest I ever saw you on your birthday."
"Would you like me to wear that dress?"
"Yes, dear."
"I will if you want me to, but I must hurry to aunt's, or she'll think
I'm lost."
Gill lifted the heavy basket and went with her.
The gentle autumn day was asleep on the crazy patchwork quilt spread
over the vast mountains, and the lovers walked along in silence, lest
they should disturb its rest.