LE'S FIERY TRIAL
Le was still walking up and down on the porch, when Mr. Force rode up,
followed by his mounted groom.
He did not see Le, who was partly shaded by the bare tangle of the
climbing rose vines on the trelliswork.
He threw himself out of his saddle, threw his bridle to his groom, and
came up the steps.
"Ho, my boy!" he shouted, as he caught sight of the youth. "Is that you,
really? Welcome! welcome! I am delighted to see you!"
And he seized Le by both hands, and shook them heartily.
"When did you get home?" he continued, in the same cordial tone.
"Only this morning," answered Le, trying to command himself, for the
sudden sight of Odalite's father and the jubilant cordiality of his
address nearly upset the poor fellow's balance.
Had his uncle no feeling, knowing, as he must know, that he, Le, had come
home joyfully expecting to marry Odalite, only to meet with a bitter
disappointment?
"Come into the parlor! Come into the parlor! It is too cold out here! You
look quite blue! Come in, and let's get a better view of you!" continued
Mr. Force, leading the way into the house, followed by Le.
In the hall he threw off his riding coat, drew off his long, India rubber
boots, and then entered the parlor, which was on the opposite side from
Mrs. Force's sitting room.
It was a medium-sized, wainscoted room, with two front windows and one
side window. It was carpeted and upholstered in dark crimson, and had a
large, open wood fire burning in the ample chimney.
"Take that chair! I'll take this," said Mr. Force, pushing one armchair
toward Le with his foot, and throwing himself into the other.
Thus they sat in opposite corners.
"Now tell me! When did your ship get into port?"
"Yesterday morning, and I hurried immediately down here to see--to see
my--to--to--meet the bitterest disappointment of my life, Uncle Abel!"
said the youth, faltering, hesitating, but determined to come to the point
at last.
"Oh, come, come! Tut, tut, tut! She was only a child when you went away,
if you are referring to Odalite!" said Mr. Force, in a cheery tone.
"Yes, Uncle Abel, I am referring to Odalite, and speaking of the most
heartbreaking disappointment that ever crushed a man," said the youth.
"Nonsense, dear lad! You know nothing of heartbreaking troubles of any
sort, or you would not magnify this one! You will get over it in a
month."
"It was the cherished love and hope and faith of years."
"A dream, my boy, of which this is the awakening. A dream, in which I,
too, shared! Le, lad, you must know that I am just as much disappointed as
you can be! It was the desire of my life that you and Odalite should
marry, and in time succeed us here, and make the two great manors of
Mondreer and Greenbushes into one mammoth estate. I am disappointed in
this. And if I ever permitted myself to grieve over the inevitable, I
should feel very sorry for myself as well as for you!"
"It was so sudden, so unexpected! Why, her last letter to me, received at
Spezzia, and written not two months ago, was so kind! She must have
changed very quickly," said poor Le.
"No, I think it must have been gradually. I think she was deeply
infatuated before she realized her state. And then I know she struggled,
poor, dear child!--struggled until she nearly broke her heart--to keep
faithful to you and to please me. It was only from her suitor that I heard
at last of her distress. Then, as she meekly left her fate entirely in my
hands, I conquered my own ambition and told the child to follow the
dictates of her own heart. What else could a father do? But even now,
though she has her own way in this matter, she is not content! She frets
about you, Le!"
"Oh! and this is the gentle, tender creature whom I could reproach so
fiercely--dog that I was!" said Le, who seemed to feel the necessity of
confession to poor Odalite's parents.
"You, Le?"
"Yes, I! When she made me understand that she had broken her engagement
with me and had promised to marry that Englishman, I tell you, Uncle Abel,
I went on at her like a raving maniac! Satan took possession of me!
I--could bang out my own brains against the wall, when I think of it!"
"Don't! It would spoil the paper, and do nobody any good but the coroner
and the undertaker! It was inevitable that you should have gone into a
passion, Le! Your provocation would have upset a doctor of divinity, if it
had taken him by surprise. Think no more of it, my boy! I dare say she has
forgiven it!"
"She! the blessed child! She never once resented it--that is what kills
me! She never opened her lips in self-defense, or self-excuse! Oh, I could
beat my----"
"Pray, don't, I say! It would make a mess in a tidy parlor! I dare say she
thought she was without any excuse for disappointing you and me of our pet
plan, and all for the sake of that puncheon of an Englishman! But girls
are weak vessels. I never knew one worth having, except my own noble wife!
But perhaps she has spoiled me for appreciating any other woman, even my
own daughter."
"Yes, Aunt Elfrida is the most excellent of the earth, I do believe,"
assented Le; but without the interest in the subject which the words might
have implied.
"The most perfect woman in person, soul and spirit that ever was
created!"
"Who is 'the most perfect woman in person, soul and spirit that ever was
created'?" inquired a voice behind them.
Mr. Force turned and saw Col. Anglesea approaching them.
Both the gentlemen, who were seated, immediately arose.
Mr. Force presented his young relative to his guest.
The midshipman and the colonel bowed coldly and stiffly, while they eyed
each other with ill-repressed antagonism.
"Who is 'the most perfect woman in person, soul and spirit that ever was
created'?" again queried Col. Anglesea, as the party seated themselves
around the fire.
"My wife," answered Abel Force.
Angus Anglesea threw back his head and laughed aloud--then recovering
himself, said--to one who, unseen, had just joined the group: "I beg your
pardon, Mrs. Force! I really could not help laughing, to hear your good
husband praise you so--unconsciously--before your face! You know."
"I did not know that Elfrida was there," said Mr. Force, half offended
at--he knew not what!--something that he vaguely perceived, but could not
specify.
Mrs. Force had turned deadly pale, and her lips were compressed and her
blue eyes glittering as she took her seat.
It was fortunate, at that moment, that Miss Meeke and the two younger
girls entered the parlor, simultaneously with the ringing of the dinner
bell.
Mrs. Force arose and took the arm of the young midshipman and led the way
to the dining room, followed by the party.
"I hope Miss Force is not indisposed," said Col. Anglesea, missing Odalite
from her place at the table.
"She does not feel very well, but may perhaps join us in the drawing
room," said Mrs. Force, as they all took their seats around the board.
Mr. Force sought to enliven the meal with gay conversation, but signally
failed.
Col. Anglesea affected to treat the young midshipman with great
condescension, but equally failed; for Le ignored and disregarded him to
the verge of actual rudeness--either not hearing his remarks or else
answering them in monosyllables and giving all his attention to his little
cousins, Wynnette and Elva, who were seated, by their own choice, the one
on his right and the other on his left.
Mrs. Force did not attempt to converse, and Miss Meeke, chilled by the
social coldness around her, kept silence.
In less than an hour the uncomfortable meal was over and the party
withdrew to the drawing room.
Le then arose to bid them good-night.
"No, no, Leonidas, my lad! Don't go! Not yet, at least. Wait; I have
something to say to you. Excuse me, friends! Come into the library with
me, Le," said Mr. Force, rising, drawing the arm of the younger man within
his own and passing out.
When they reached the little book room in the rear of Mrs. Force's sitting
room, and which the family dignified by the name of library, Mr. Force
said:
"Sit down, Le." And taking a seat himself, pushed another to his
companion.
"Now, Le," he said, when both were seated, "where were you going?"
"To Greenbushes, of course. I ought to be there to look after my
property."
"Yes, yes; but Beever don't expect you to-night and has not got things
ready for you; and besides it is too late. Don't leave us to-night, Le.
Don't hurry away! Your doing so would hurt Odalite. She would think she
had driven you away."
"Well, then, I will not go. I have hurt Odalite enough. If my going would
hurt her I would stay here and stand that ruffian's insolence until he
takes her away. I beg your pardon, uncle, for calling your intended
son-in-law a ruffian."
"Oh, fire away, my lad! You have every right to swear! I feel like joining
you."
"His insolence in laughing when you praised my aunt so much!"
"But I did not praise her above her merits. Why, just look at her, Le!
Nearly forty years old, and the very handsomest woman in the country, and
as noble and perfect in mind as in person!"
"Yes; and he laughed!"
"Look here, Le. You know he was a brother officer of my wife's brother,
and an old friend of hers. Now, I'll tell you what, I often think that he
was a rejected suitor of Lady Elfrida Glennon. And the memory of it makes
him sore and sarcastic at times. Many little things in their intercourse
makes me think that sometimes. Bear with him, Le, as I shall do, for
Odalite's sake. Now shall we return to the drawing room?"
"If you please."