Conspirant ’gainst this ’high-illustrious prince.—_King Lear_,
v, 3.
“I suppose,” said George Washington Dodd, indulgently, as they went out
the gate, “that you, being possessed of youth, beauty, and a romantic
temperament, would prefer to go home around by the brook.”
“Yes,” said Lillian, “I would, and I am going that way. But if you, not
being possessed of those very desirable qualities, prefer to go the
other way, you may.”
“No, we’ll both go around by the brook,” said Dodd, airily; “for those
qualities are as much mine as yours. Beauty is entirely a matter of
opinion, and my own opinion is that I am very beautiful. Youth is a
matter of comparison, and by some standards I am exceedingly young; and
as to my romantic temperament—give me a chance.”
“Your beauty of its kind, I will admit, though perhaps it is not equal
to my own,” said Lillian, consideringly; “your romantic temperament is
an unknown quantity—it may be like mine; but surely I am not quite as
old as you are.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Dodd replied. “Of course, you are young, but
then so am I. The gods love me, and I shall never grow old.”
“But,” objected Lillian, “those whom the gods love die young.”
“That is, I admit, the accepted intent of the quotation, but its real
meaning is that those whom the gods love are young when they die, for
the simple reason that they never grow old. That makes me just the same
age as you, and I shall always stay so.”
“All right,” said Lillian; “then we’ll go around by the brook.”
“And now,” said Dodd, as they walked along the path to the brook, “since
you have conceded my youth and beauty, I will proceed to convince you of
my romantic temperament. Just now it is wildly enthusiastic over the
beauty of the night. To me, the moon is a beautiful golden boat, sailing
away over blue waters. And that reminds me, I shall sail myself next
month, I am going abroad.”
“To study art?”
“No, not that, although I mean to buy a few pictures that I’ve had my
eye on for some years. By the way, I want you to go with me.”
“To advise you about the pictures?” said Lillian, delightedly.
“No, as my wife.”
“What!” exclaimed Lillian.
“You heard me,” said Dodd. “It may seem precipitate, but I am a man of
quick decisions. I always decide quickly when I find what I
want—whether it’s a picture or you.”
“Are you sure you want me?” asked Lillian.
“Yes, I’m sure. I was sure the moment I saw you. I want you, and I want
you now. I want you to marry me and go abroad with me next month.”
“And then may I study art?”
“You may not. There’s to be no more of this art foolishness. We will
look at pictures together, and we will buy pictures together, but you
have painted your last picture. Will you go with me?”
“Well, for a girl with a confessedly romantic temperament, this is about
the most unromantic proposal I ever heard of; and from a man, too, who
boasted of his own romantic temperament.”
“Never you mind that. Once you have answered my question in the way I
want you to, my romantic temperament is at your disposal for the rest of
your life; but just now I am in earnest.”
“You seem to be in earnest,” said Lillian, “but if ever I want an
exhibition of your romantic temperament, it is at a time like this.
Unless you can—”
“Oh, I can ask you in more romantic terms, if that’s what you want.”
Dodd dropped on one knee, struck his breast melodramatically, and
began—
“Queen Regent of my heart, may I supplicate—”
“Oh, not that way,” interrupted Lillian. “That’s foolish. I don’t
believe your romantic temperament is the real thing at all.”
“Yes, it is—truly, it is. I’ll try again.”
He put his arm around Lillian, and began with an impassioned, “My
darling—”
“Oh, that won’t do at all—that’s too familiar.”
“Is it?” said Dodd, composedly, but he did not release her. “Well, then,
I’ll tell you what. I’ll just say in plain English, ‘Will you be my
wife?’ and you just say, ‘Yes,’ and then to-morrow I’ll make a study of
this and write it out in a sort of an essay. We’ll write it together.
Now then, will you marry me?”
Lillian was helpfully silent.
“Say Yes,” he prompted.
Lillian said yes.
* * * * *
The next day George Washington Dodd wandered around the house in a sort
of beatific daze quite contrary to his usual alert activity.
He and Lillian had planned to announce their engagement that afternoon
at tea, and they anticipated a truly exciting occasion. After luncheon
Mr. Dodd strolled into the darkened library and lay down upon a couch in
a remote corner, where he promptly fell asleep. A little later he was
wakened by voices in the room.
“I wish I knew,” said Miss Esther, “exactly how the situation stands. Do
you think there’s any hope?”
“I don’t know,” said Lincoln. “Dad thinks an awful lot of her, but don’t
believe she cares for him much; and it’s awfully soon, anyway. Give them
time.”
“Oh, I think Lillian is very fond of your father,” said Miss Esther;
“but somehow he doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of her art
work.”
“He hasn’t,” said Lincoln, honestly. “But he has a high opinion of her.”
“Well, that will do just as well, if only he will come to the point
soon. I wish you’d ask him what he means to do, for if Lillian sails by
the fifteenth of August something must be done soon.”
“Me ask him!” exclaimed Dodd; “he’d tell me to go about my business. No,
you ask him, or at least with your clever tact find out from him. I’d
rather ask Lillian.”
“Well, then, you do that,” said Miss Esther; “and find out what you can
and we’ll compare notes. You meet me here in the library to-night and
tell me what you’ve learned, and in the mean time I’ll find out what I
can from your father. And another thing that’s bothering me is this, I’m
afraid Helen is not going to accept Mr. Brewster.”
“Has he asked her?” said Lincoln.
“No,” replied Miss Esther; “but it’s because she won’t give him a
chance. She is so proud and reserved, and she snubs him far more than
she realizes. I don’t wonder that he doesn’t like it.”
“Can’t you reason with her?”
“No; the more you reason with Helen Fairbanks, the worse she is. The
only girl who is acting just right is Jean, and Putnam is a dear. That
affair is going on just as I want it to.”
George Washington Dodd, on the sofa, suddenly realized that he was
deliberately listening to the deep-laid plans of a desperate conspiracy,
but as he had not made his presence known in the first place, he
certainly could not do so now, and it was with a decided feeling of
relief that he saw the conspirators leave the room, quite unaware of his
eavesdropping presence.
“Huh!” he exclaimed; “so they’re going to hold a court of inquiry over
Lillian and me, are they? Well, we’ll be ready for them. After I’ve made
up my mind what to say, and after I’ve told Lillian what she’s to say,
they may begin as soon as they like. I’ll go over and see her now, and I
rather think we’ll defer that announcement this afternoon. We’ll have a
lot of fun out of this thing.”
As he left the house, Lincoln was just coming from the stables in his
automobile. “Take me in,” said his father. “Where are you going?”
“Over to the Hastings house,” said Lincoln. “Where do you want to go?”
“That’s where I want to go. I wish you’d leave me there and then do an
errand for me down in the village.”
“But I was going to take Miss Hastings for a ride.”
“All right. You can come back and get her after you do this errand for
me. I want to send a wire to New York. Here it is. I have written it
down.”
Lincoln tucked the paper in his pocket. “All right,” he said; “I’ll be
back in half an hour.”
While the telegraph operator waited, Lincoln read the message his father
had given him. It ran:
“No message for New York. Just want to be rid of you for a few minutes.”
“There’s some mistake here,” said Lincoln to the operator. “I have
brought the wrong paper. I’ll see you again later.”
“Phew!” he said. “Dad’s coming it rather strong. To think of his sending
me on a kid’s errand like that! But I’ll be even with him yet!”
When he reached the Hastings house he found his father and his hoped-for
stepmother apparently wrapped in the deepest gloom. They sat far apart
on the veranda and appeared to be dejected beyond power of words. As he
drew up, his father said, “I believe you were to take Miss Hastings for
a drive. She is quite ready to go. I will walk on home.”
“Just as well take you over, Dad!”
“No, thank you. I prefer to walk.”
After a very slight exchange of courtesies with Lillian, which Lincoln
had no idea was part of a carefully prearranged plan, George Washington
Dodd walked away, inwardly chuckling, but displaying great gravity of
demeanor.
“That telegram scheme was an inspiration,” he said to himself. “Now if
Lillian only does exactly as I told her to, and I think she will, that
young hopeful of mine will have a ripping report to take home to his
fellow conspirator. As for the fellow conspirator herself, I will see to
it that she has a report equally hair-raising.”