HUMBLED INTO THE DUST.
Lyman found favor with the company, that is, with the exception of Eva
McElwin, whose position demanded a certain reserve. He had sought to
engage her in conversation, and she had listened as if struck with the
tone of his voice, but she turned suddenly away, remembering,
doubtless, that she was present as an act of condescension, and that
for the time being she was the social property not of any stranger,
but of her "poor kin." Lyman looked after her with a smile and a merry
twinkle of mischief in his eye. He had heard it said that her
complexion was of a sort that would never freckle, and he was amused
at his having remembered a remark so trivial. He had looked into her
eyes, had plunged into them, he fancied, for she had merely glanced up
at him: and he thought of the illumined-blue that mingles in the
rainbow, and he mused that he had never seen a head so fine, so
gracefully poised. And then he speculated upon the petulant waste of
her life. Almost divine could have been her mission; what a balm in a
house of sickness and distress. He thought of the pale man whom he had
seen lying near the window; he fancied himself thus doomed to lie and
waste slowly away, and he pictured the delight it would be to see her
enter the room, like an angel sent to soothe him with her smile. She
turned toward him to listen to a worshiping cousin, and Lyman saw her
lips bud into a pout, and it was almost a grief to see her so spoiled
and so shallow.
"Well, I see you are getting acquainted right along," said Zeb Sawyer,
speaking to Lyman. "A man doesn't have to live here long before he
knows everybody. But I'm kept so busy that I haven't much time for
society."
"What business are you in?" Lyman asked.
"Mules; nothing but mules. Oh, well, occasionally I handle a horse or
so, but I make a specialty of buying and selling mules. Good deal of
money in it, I tell you. McElwin used to do something in that line
himself. Yes, sir, and he paid me a mighty high compliment the other
day--he said I was about as good a judge of mules as he ever saw, and
that, coming from a man as careful as he is, was mighty high praise, I
tell you. Helloa, what's up?"
From the family sitting room had come a roar and a noise like the
upsetting of chairs. And into the parlor rushed McElwin, followed by
his wife, Staggs, Mrs. Staggs, and the white and terrified Miss Annie.
"A most damnable outrage!" McElwin shouted, making straight for Lyman.
"I mean you, sir," he cried, shaking his fist at Lyman. "You, sir. You
try to bunco me and now you conspire with an imbecile to humble me
into the dust. I mean you, sir. You have married my daughter. That
fool is an ordained preacher, and your sockless legislature did away
with marriage licenses."
Lyman looked about and saw Miss Eva faint in her mother's arms; he saw
terror in the faces about him, and his cheek felt the hot breath of
Sawyer's rage. He stepped back, for the banker's hand was at his
throat.
"Pardon me," he said, with a quietness that struck the company with a
becalming awe. "Pardon me, but I did not know that there was any
conspiracy. Is there a doctor present? If there's not, send for one
to attend the young lady."
Some one ran out. McElwin stood boiling with fury. Sawyer thrust forth
his hand. Lyman knocked it up. "I will not step back for you," he
said. "I have committed no outrage and I am not here to be insulted
and pounced upon. Mr. McElwin, you ought to have sense enough to look
calmly upon this unfortunate joke." He turned, attracted by a wail
from Mrs. McElwin. Again he addressed the banker, now not so furious
as awkwardly embarrassed. "They were playing and the young lady was to
go through the marriage ceremony with the first man to enter the room,
a common farce hereabouts, as you know; and I was the first man to
enter. Don't blame me for a playful custom, or the action of a
populist legislature."
"That may be all true, sir, but how could you presume, even in fun, to
stand up with her? How is she?" he demanded, turning toward a woman
who had just come from a room whither they had taken the "bride."
"Oh, she is all right. She was more scared than hurt."
He gave her a look of contempt, as if he had been hit with a sarcasm;
and then he addressed himself to Lyman. "I ask, sir, how you could
presume to stand up with her?"
"Well, I was told that I had to."
"And you were willing enough, no doubt."
"I didn't hang back very much; they didn't have to tear my clothes."
"But I wish they had torn your flesh, as you have torn mine. Who ever
knew of so disgraceful and ridiculous a situation? It beats anything I
ever heard of."
"But it can be made all right," said old man Staggs. "Nobody's hurt."
"We can get a divorce," Zeb Sawyer suggested.
"Yes," said Lyman, "but our friends, the populists, have enacted
rather peculiar divorce laws. And without some vital cause, the
application must be signed by both parties. It's in the nature of a
petition."
"Well, that can be arranged," McElwin declared, with a sigh. "Annie,
is Eva better?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you. And you must pardon me for talking to you as I did just
now, for I was never so upset in my life. Cousin Jasper, I wish you
would have my carriage ordered. Annie, tell Mrs. McElwin that we will
go home at once. Mr. Lyman, let me see you a moment in private."
Lyman followed him out upon the veranda. He had not analyzed his own
feelings, but he was conscious of a strange victory.
"Mr. Lyman, you came to me and wanted to borrow a hundred dollars."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I can let you have it."
"No, I thank you."
"What, you don't want it?"
"Well, it wouldn't look exactly right for a rich man's son-in-law to
borrow money so soon after marriage."
"Confound your impudence, sir--I beg your pardon."
"I thank you," said Lyman.
"You thank me? What for?"
"For begging my pardon."
"Come, that is all nonsense, Mr. Lyman. Tell my wife that I'll be
ready in a moment," he shouted with his head thrust in at the door.
"The most absurd of nonsense," he said, turning back to Lyman. "It
will raise a horse laugh throughout the county, and will then be
dismissed as a good joke on me. Yes, sir, on me. And now will you
agree to conform to the requirements of that ridiculous legislature,
and sign the petition to the court?"
"I haven't been informed that the legislature requires me to sign any
petition. And I have no favors to ask of the court."
"Is it possible, Mr. Lyman, that you do not see the necessity of it?"
"And is it possible, Mr. McElwin, that you do not see the humor of
it?"
"The absurdity, yes. But I see no fun in it. I am a dignified man,
sir."
"Of course you tell me this in confidence--that you are a dignified
man. All right--I won't say anything about it. But even dignity
sometimes stands in need of advice. Go home and get a good night's
sleep."
"Do you mean that you won't agree--"
"Not tonight."
"Mr. Lyman, I have heard that you are one of the kindest hearted of
men."
"Oh, then you have heard of me? And I was not an entire stranger when
I called at your bank? Yes, I suppose I have been what they were
pleased to term a good fellow, and it strikes me that I have got the
worst end of the bargain all along; so now, for once in my life, I am
going to be mean. I will not sign your petition, Mr. McElwin."
"What, sir, do you mean it?"
"Yes, I mean it. I cannot afford to surrender a position so
deliciously absurd."
"Then I will compel you, sir." He began to choke with anger.
"All right. I suppose you will invite me to be present."
"I will compel you to leave this town."
"What! After forming so strong an attachment?"
"You are not a gentleman, sir."
"No? Well, I have married into a pretty good family."
"I will not bandy words with you. But I will see you, and perhaps when
you least expect it."
"Very well. Good night, and please remember that there is no humor in
the law, that the statutes do not recognize a joke, and that, for the
present at least, the young woman is my wife."