She was absent more than an hour. Lizzie was becoming afraid of
something she knew not what--something due, perhaps, to the suggestion
laid upon her by Jane Holder's abortive attempt, when Tilly appeared at
the head of the stairs, her nunlike face in the disk of the lamp's rays.
"I've swept and dusted, and made the bed," she said. "There are a few of
his things that I'd like to have, provided you don't want to keep
them--the books, the drawings, and his hat and shoes."
"You may have them," Lizzie answered, as they went back into the parlor
and sat down.
"I am going to ask another favor," Tilly went on. "I intended to spend
the night at the cottage, but if you wouldn't mind I'd like to stay here
with you and sleep in John's old bed. You may think it odd, but I want
to do it, Mrs. Trott. I want to do it more than anything in the world."
"Oh!" Lizzie started and protested, "you couldn't stay here, my child.
It would never do. You are too young and inexperienced to understand
why. I've harmed you and John enough already; surely you see--you see--"
"I know what you mean, but it doesn't matter," Tilly insisted. "I want
to stay to-night, for I must go back to-morrow. Don't refuse me--please,
please don't! I want to sleep there and I want to get up in the morning
and cook your breakfast and make your coffee for you. Please, please let
me."
Lizzie lowered her head. Her features were in the shadow. She was very
silent. Then Tilly felt some tears falling on her hands, and with her
black-bordered handkerchief she wiped Lizzie's wet cheeks and drew her
head down to her shoulder. Suddenly, as if ashamed of her emotion,
Lizzie rose, went to the front door and stood there in silence, looking
out.
"How could I let her do it?" she reflected. "If it got out she would be
stamped as I am by the public. No, it won't do--it won't do; and yet,
and yet, the dear, sweet child--"
She turned back to Tilly and sat down. "I don't know what to do," she
faltered. "You are upset now with grief, and are willing to do things
that later on you may be sorry for. Go back to the cottage and stay
there. It will be best."
"No, Mrs. Trott--mother, I'm going to call you mother. I shall not
desert you to-night. From the cottage I saw the hearse come here this
afternoon and a man told me what it meant. This is your first night
alone and I must be with you."
In silence Lizzie acquiesced. Remembering that Mandy had left supper
prepared, she went to the kitchen, lighted a lamp, and began putting the
food on the table. Tilly joined her, helping at this and that with
swift, deft hands. Presently they sat down opposite each other. Neither
ate much, though both were pretending to relish the food. The meal was
almost concluded when there was a step on the porch and a vigorous rap
on the door. Lizzie started and almost paled.
"Stay where you are," she said to Tilly. "I'll be back in a moment."
Tilly heard her light step to the door, then the door opened and a man's
voice sounded: "Hello, Liz! What's all this? My God! old girl, I just
got to town and heard at the hotel about all three, and--"
"Hush!" Tilly heard Lizzie's voice ring out. "Go away, and don't come
back ever again. Do you hear me--_never again_?"
"But Liz, Liz! Why, old friend--"
"Go away, I tell you! I don't want you here and I won't have it! Tell
all the others to stay away--every one, man and woman. I'm done, I tell
you. I'm through. Go, go, I tell you! Go!"
There was a mumbled, bewildered protest which grew fainter and fainter
till it ended with the clicking of the gate latch, and Lizzie, white and
trembling, returned. She resumed her seat, and with unsteady hands took
up her knife and fork, but made no comment on the interruption.
Supper over, they rose and put the things away. After this was done they
sat talking in the parlor till nine o'clock. Then Tilly said, "Now you
must go to bed, and so must I."
Lizzie got another lamp, and when she had lighted it she suddenly
bethought herself of something. "You have no nightgown," she said. "Is
it at the cottage?"
Tilly nodded. "Yes; I will run over for it, if you will give me a match
to light the gas."
Lizzie averted her eyes, stood silent for a moment, and then said:
"No, no, you mustn't go at this time of night. Some one might see you
leaving here or returning. No, no, that would never do, my child. I have
a lot of clean nightgowns, but I have--" Lizzie broke off, her face
flushing, her eyes falling.
"Then why don't you lend me--" Tilly had read the thought of her
embarrassed hostess, delicate as it was, and yet did not know how to
relieve the situation of its tension.
"Oh, I remember now!" Lizzie suddenly ejaculated in relief. "I have some
that have just been bought and given to me which I've never worn. They
are rather too small for me. In fact, they are about your size. Come to
my room and I'll get one."
To the simple, country-bred girl Lizzie's room seemed a luxurious one in
the glow of the pink-shaded lamp on the center-table. The imitation
damask curtains at the windows had a costly look, and the wide bed with
its silk-lined lace covering and great puffy pillows seemed a thing of
royal comfort. On the air a mixture of several perfumes floated. While
Tilly stood in the doorway, holding her lamp, Lizzie went to a wardrobe,
pulled down a long cardboard box, and began to take out some folded
garments. Suddenly she turned her back to Tilly, and with a gown of fine
linen in her hands she hastily proceeded to remove the pink ribbons and
bows from the neck and sleeves.
"It is too gaudy for you, with all these gewgaws on it," she awkwardly
explained, when she noticed that Tilly was watching her. "It is not what
you'd prefer, I'm sure; but maybe you can make it do for once. It has
never been worn. It is just from the store. Here, you can see the
price-tag on it."
Tilly took it, was deeply touched, and bent and kissed Lizzie on the
brow. "Good night, mother," she said, simply. "Try to sleep. I can see
that you need rest. We are both in a sad plight, aren't we?"
"'Mother'! she called me 'mother'!" Lizzie said to herself, as Tilly
turned away. She heard the door of John's room being closed, and,
peering out into the corridor, she saw that it was dark save for a
thread of light beneath the shutter. Then Lizzie, with a strange sense
of something new and hitherto unexperienced in her drab life, started to
prepare for bed. She had removed the pins from her hair and was about to
let it fall, when all at once she paused, reflected for a moment, and
then wound her hair up again.
"No, no, I mustn't go to bed," she said. "That would never do. The sweet
child is in my care, and nothing shall happen to shock her or prevent
her from sleeping. Somebody might come--who knows? Some one too drunk to
be decent or orderly."
Therewith, Lizzie got a light shawl, threw it over her shoulders, blew
out her lamp, and crept down the stairs. Seating herself at an open
window of the parlor, whence she could see the gate and a part of the
street leading townward, she determined to remain on guard through the
night.
Ten o'clock came and passed, eleven, twelve, one, and still she had no
desire for sleep. She had decided how she would act if she saw any one
approaching the isolated house. She would hurry out, meet the person
before he reached the gate, and, if possible, quietly send him away.
At two o'clock she heard footsteps on the opposite side of the street. A
man was slowly and cautiously passing, his eyes on the house. Lizzie
wondered, and when she saw him pause and retrace his steps, still
looking in her direction, she became even alarmed. Her anxiety
increased, for when the man was opposite the gate he began slowly to
cross the street. From his light, furtive steps Lizzie knew that he was
trying to avoid being seen or heard.
Rising, she tiptoed from the parlor into the hall and to the door.
Softly she turned the key, that Tilly might not hear, and stepped upon
the porch. The sound she made was evidently heard by the man, for he
paused in the middle of the street and stood still. Though the moonlight
was clear enough, Lizzie failed to recognize in him any acquaintance of
hers. She opened the gate and went directly to him.
"What do you want here?" she demanded, facing him sternly.
"Oh!" the man ejaculated. "Are you Mrs. Trott?"
"Yes, but what do you want?"
She thought he sighed as he courteously lifted his hat. "Mrs. Trott, I
don't want to intrude," he began. "I am a friend of your son's wife from
Cranston. She was in such deep distress that I and my family aided her.
I helped her take a train this morning, but later decided to--"
"Oh, you are Joel Eperson, are you not?"
"Yes," was the answer.
Lizzie lowered her voice; her glance fell to the ground. "Tilly told me
about you to-night--how kind you have always been to her and what a fine
man you are."
Joel waved his hand disparagingly. "I am not a wise friend of hers, at
any rate, Mrs. Trott," he sighed. "I ought not to have given in to her
coming. But I didn't know that she--she-- You see, she told me that she
was going to stay at the cottage. If I had thought--"
"She insisted on staying here," Lizzie replied, plaintively apologetic.
"She came before it was dark and insisted on staying. That is why I am
up. Do you understand?"
Joel gravely inclined his head. "I understand," he said, "and it is
fine and good of you, Mrs. Trott."
"And you were standing guard over her, too?" Lizzie went on.
Again he bowed his head. "It is a cruel world, Mrs. Trott," he said. "I
hope you will pardon me for saying so, but if it should be known that
Tilly stayed--"
"I know. You needn't tell me," Lizzie interrupted, sensitively. "Now
listen, Mr. Eperson, you must take her home in the morning. You must
take her home and prevent her from coming again. She will want to. She
is not herself now. She is out of her head with grief. I love her--I
love her, and I don't wonder that John did and made her his wife. I've
brought all this on her and I can never undo it. You love her, too, I
know it-- I see it in your face and hear it in your voice. I gathered
it, too, from something she let fall about you and her before she met my
son. Now go to a hotel and get some rest. I am going to sit up and I'll
see that no harm comes to her. I'll make her go to the cottage before it
is light, and you will find her there. I promise it."
"Thank you, Mrs. Trott." Joel bowed his uncovered head and held out his
hand. "If I had known that you were--were like this I should not have
worried."
Lizzie pressed his hand and clung to it as if for support to her in what
she next faltered out. "I am a different woman from what I was only
three days ago," she declared. "Certain things have torn me to shreds.
I'm bleeding inside and out. I don't know what I shall do, but I shall
leave this house and bury myself from everybody I've associated with in
the past. You may not think it possible, but I'll die if I don't."
Joel pressed her hand warmly; he bent his head till his eyes met hers
squarely, frankly. "Then I shall help you," he said, fervently. "Not
only that, but I shall not oppose Tilly in anything she wants to do in
your behalf, and she says she believes in you, Mrs. Trott. I am sure
that she will want to see you again, and she must be allowed to do so.
I'll help her."
He left her standing in the center of the street and she slowly walked
to the gate, passed through it, and crept back to her post of vigil at
the window.