LAUGHED AT HIS WEAKNESS.
Lyman walked slowly across the public square. The lawyers, the clerks,
the tradesmen, who had become acquainted with his habits were wont to
say, as they saw him strolling about, "There he goes, blind as a bat,
with a story in his head." And they commented upon him now, but they
could see that he was not in a dreaming mood, for his head was high
and his heels fell hard upon the ground. At the edge of the sidewalk
he halted for a moment, and his eye ran along the signs over the
doors. Then he stepped up to an open door and entered without pausing
at the threshold. Caruthers was sitting with his face toward the door.
He flushed as Lyman entered, took his feet off the corner of the table
and straightened himself back in his chair. Lyman stepped up to the
table and without a word, stood there looking at him.
"Well, you have come at last," said Caruthers, "I have been sitting
here day after day, waiting for you."
"You expected me," said Lyman.
"Yes, as I say I have been waiting for you day after day. But where is
the constable? You didn't bring him along."
Lyman took out the note. "The fog that settled between us," said he.
Caruthers nodded.
"I would have come sooner," said Lyman, "but the fog was not defined
until a few moments ago."
"And I suppose your plan is to send me to the penitentiary. Tell me
what you intend to do--don't stand there looking at me that way. Give
a man a chance to defend his honor."
"Honor," Lyman repeated, with a cold smile. "You haven't as much honor
as a hyena."
"Well, then, let me say name."
"You can say name. A snake has a name. And you want a chance to defend
yours."
"Mr. Lyman, I really have no defense--I'm done up. I needed money and
I put your name to that note, and if you want to disgrace my family,
why you can send me to the penitentiary. I have suffered over it, day
and night, and I am going to make the amount good if I live long
enough. You can take everything I've got in here. But I suppose you
would rather send me to the penitentiary."
Lyman sat down. "When I left my office," said he, "I was angry enough
to kill you, but now you appear so contemptible that I am sorry for
you."
"And I feel as contemptible as I look."
"I don't think that is quite possible. If you felt as contemptible as
you look you'd blow your brains out." He got up and stood looking at
Caruthers. He put his hand to his forehead as if a troublesome thought
were passing through his mind. "Now that I am here I don't know what
to do," said he. "I know that you ought to be punished, but my old
weakness comes upon me and I falter." Caruthers brightened and Lyman
looked like an abashed criminal.
"Lyman," said Caruthers, "if you have any mercy left, let me throw
myself upon it. I know that there ought to be an end to your
forgiveness, but why should you draw the line at me?"
"I am a fool," said Lyman, "and it makes me blush to know that I can't
hide it from you. But you are so contemptible that I haven't the heart
to punish you."
He tore the note into bits and turned toward the door, with his head
hung low. He thought that he heard something and looking back he
caught Caruthers laughing at him. His head went up; a strange light
drove the gentleness out of his eyes.
"Ah, you laugh at my weakness. A moment ago I didn't know what to do.
Now I know."
He sprang at Caruthers and seized him by the collar--he shoved him
back and struck him in the mouth--he jerked him to his knees, threw
him upon the floor and kicked him. The cries of the wretch brought a
crowd to the door. A constable rushed in. "Get away," Lyman commanded.
"He belongs to me."
"But you don't want to kill him," the officer replied. "Look, you have
knocked his teeth out."
"So I have. Well, you may have him now."
Warren sat in the office, smoking. "Why, what's the matter?" he asked,
as Lyman entered. "I'll bet you've got another piece of news to
suppress."
"No, I haven't--we'll give it two columns. I knocked Brother
Caruthers' teeth out and I'm glad of it."
"Good!" Warren cried. And then he called the office boy. "Tom, wet
down two hundred extra copies for the next edition. Oh, Samuel, you
are coming on first rate. What did he do?"
"He laughed at my weakness."
"Glad of it. Oh, we are prospering. Make a piece of news out of it,
and don't think about yourself. Write it in the third. Talk
about hard times when things come this way! Why, the world is on a
keen jump. Hold on a moment. Here comes Nancy's dad."
Old man Pitt came walking carefully into the room, looking about to
avoid upsetting anything. He shook hands with Lyman and Warren, looked
for a place to spit, did not find it and spat on the floor. "I seen
your little rumpus over yonder jest now," said he, "and it was
powerful entertainin'. You snatched that feller about like he wa'n't
nothin' more than a feather pillow. And I'm glad of it, for if there
ever was a scoundrel on the face of the earth he's the man. I drapped
in town today to see if there was any news goin' on, an' I bucked up
agin it the first off-start. That's what I call keepin' things lively.
Mr. Warren, our cousin Jerry was over at the house last night."
"The deuce you say!" Warren exclaimed.
"Yes, sir, last night; and he apologized for havin' been a leetle
slow. He 'lowed that it had been in his mind all along to marry
Nancy--"
"I'll shoot the top of his head off!" Warren broke in.
"No need of that, my son. I told him that we was much obleeged for his
deliberation as the feller says, but that he was too late; and Nancy
she up and tells him that she never had thought of marryin' him, and
that she wouldn't have had him if he had asked her three years ago.
And then she 'lowed that she loved you--"
"Talk about women!" Warren cried. "There's one for your life. And say,
I'll be out there tomorrow morning at eight o'clock and the ceremony
will be performed at half past eight. Just hold on, now, there's no
use in arguing with me. She was born to you, but, by George, she was
born for me, and that's all there is to it."
"Young feller," said Mr. Pitt, "the day for me to buck agin you is
past. I don't mind markin' yearlin' calves and I don't hold off when
it comes to breakin' up a hornet's nest, but I stand ready and
willin' to fling up my hands when it comes to pullin' agin you. I have
been kept busy many a time in my life; I have been woke up at mornin'
and kept on the stretch pretty nigh till midnight, but you can come
nearer occupyin' all my time and the time of all my folks than any
article I ever come up against. I give in and so do the rest of them.
You can jump on a hoss and ride right out there and marry her before I
can git home if you want to."
The old fellow bowed his head as if he were exhausted with the strain
of a long fight. Lyman sputtered with laughter, and Warren, his eyes
shedding the light of victory, thus addressed the old man: "I am glad
that you have at last given your consent, and I want to tell you that
you shall never regret it."
"That's all right, young feller. I never squeal when a man outwinds
me, and I am as much out-winded now as if I'd been wrasselin' with a
bear. Nancy saw how the fight was goin', her and her mother, and for
the past week or so they have been makin' clothes fitten to kill
themselves, and if Nancy ain't got enough yet, why, I'll jest tell her
to put on all she's got ready and let it rip at that. Well, I'm goin'
now. I expect mebby, young feller, you'll beat me home and be married
agin I git there, but I've got nothin' to say. I know when I'm winded.
Good day."
They shook hands with him, and when he was gone Warren said: "Well,
things are settling down on a fair sort of a basis. I like that old
man, Lyman, and I don't believe I'll rush him; believe I'll give them
more time to get things ready. I could go out there tonight, but I'll
wait till tomorrow morning and let the ceremony be performed at eight
o'clock. I'll get up about five and pick up a preacher on the way.
He's a poor fellow and needs the job."
"Good!" Lyman cried. "I am really glad that you have decided not to
push the old man."
"Yes, I think it best to give him and the girl plenty of time. Don't
you?"
"I rather think so. They ought at least to have time enough to wash
their faces and comb their hair. But to tell you the truth I don't
relish the idea of getting up so early."
"You don't? Why, you've got nothing to do with it. Did you think I was
going to let you go? Not much. You'd guy me and that would turn the
whole thing into a farce. It's a fact that I don't want you; I may be
peculiar, but I can't help it. I tell you what you must do: We'll be
in town day after tomorrow night and I want you to come down to the
house and take supper with us."
"I'll be there."
"But you mus'n't guy Nancy. She'll be scared anyway."
"I won't guy her. I shall feel more disposed to pronounce a
benediction."
"I'm glad you feel that way though we don't want the occasion to be
solemn. Where are you going?"
"Over to old Jasper's to imprison myself in my room. I want to think."
* * * * *
While Lyman was busy with Caruthers, Eva was tripping along a
grass-grown street. She and her mother had just returned. The social
relationship between the banker's daughter and the daughter of old
Jasper Staggs had not been close; Eva's visits had always been a
surprise. And on this day when Annie saw her coming, she got up in a
flutter to meet her at the door.
"Why, how do you do?" Annie cried, catching her hand. "I am delighted
to see you. When did you get home? We didn't hear that you had come
back."
"We returned not more than an hour ago."
"Come in and put your things off."
"I haven't time to stay but a few moments. Is your mother well?"
"Yes, very well. I will call her."
"Oh, no, I'm going to remain so short a time. I was out walking and I
thought I'd stop for a moment. Is your father well?"
"Yes, as well as usual. I don't know where he is--out in the garden, I
suppose."
"Is Mr. Lyman here yet?"
"You mean is he still in town? Oh, yes, and he boards here, but I
suppose he's at his office."
"Somebody told me that he was thinking of leaving town."
"That may be, but he hasn't gone yet."
"Does he do most of his work here?"
"Yes, all but the work for the paper."
"Would you mind showing me the room where he does his work? I'd like
so much to see it."
"With pleasure, I'm sure."
She led Eva to the room above. The young woman stood with her hands
clasped, looking at the bare walls--she looked at the chair, at every
article of meager furniture. She went to the desk and took up a pen.
"Is this the pen he writes with?" she asked.
"Yes, I think so. Did you wish to write something?"
"Oh, no," she answered, holding the pen. "And is that where he walks
up and down while he's thinking?" she asked, pointing to a thread-bare
pathway in the rag carpet.
"It must be," Annie answered. "We hear him walking a good deal and he
always seems to be walking up and down in the same place."
Eva put down the pen and turned to go. Annie looked at her narrowly.
They went down stairs and Eva did not halt until she had reached the
door. "Won't you sit down?"
"Oh, no, thank you. I must be getting back. You must come over to see
us. Good-bye."
Annie went out to the dining-room where her mother was ironing. "Eva
has just been here," she said. "All she wanted was to go into the room
where Mr. Lyman does his work. She's dead in love with him and he's
blind as a bat not to see it. I don't believe he wrote the book--I
don't believe he could write anything."