THE DANGEROUS CONFIDANT.
Waldon kept his seat by the window for some time after the young rioters
withdrew.
Lane also sat despondently by a table. His share in the night’s revel
had fallen short of oblivion, and he still felt keenly. He had thrown
off his assumed gayety the moment his companions disappeared, and sat,
leaning his head upon his hand, gazing moodily on the floor.
“You are not in as good spirits as you pretend,” said Waldon, watching
him closely.
“If Morgan were here, he would say that I have had plenty of good
spirits,” he answered, with a harsh laugh.
“Are you really annoyed at having been suspended?”
“I am past caring for anything of the sort, I assure you.”
“I suppose your father will feel it very much.”
“I hope so; he may thank himself for half that I have done! Father, or
no father, he must be careful what he says to me now; I will not be
blamed or lectured.”
“You are not going home, you say?”
“No; why should I? My last visit was one continued scene of annoyance
and trouble—you know what I mean.”
“In reference to some young lady? Yes, I have heard of it. The name I
forget.”
“You have? I never spoke her name; upon my word, I believe I lacked the
courage.”
“Is she a girl to take this rustication to heart?” inquired Waldon, who
seemed rather to endure than sympathize with the young man.
“That’s just what she is. Her pride is equal to my father’s. That’s
where the trouble lies. She knows they look down on her, and resents it.
Who wouldn’t?”
Waldon made no answer. He was getting tired of the subject, and leaned
out of the window, attracted by the sound of hoofs coming down the road.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “What a splendid woman! Come here, Lane, and
tell me if you know her. I think that is Fletcher riding by her.”
“Very likely,” answered Lane, rising languidly. “He wouldn’t join in
with us—got wet through or something—and went off on horseback after
breakfast. Yes, it is Fletcher; and good Heavens, Waldon! Clara Anderson
with him.”
“That girl Clara Anderson?” exclaimed Waldon, flushing with excitement.
“That girl on the horse the one you were talking of?”
“She doesn’t know that I am here. Oh, if I could speak one word to her!
If he were not with her, I would leap from the window and head off her
horse.”
“A man might be excused for any folly, when a girl like that is in the
question,” said Waldon, completely aroused. “She will not give you a
chance though, but puts her horse to his speed.”
“She saw me. Did you not see her lift her eyes? Which is it, Waldon—does
she fear, love, or hate me?”
“How can I tell?” answered Waldon, with a gesture of impatience. “The
girl may be a coquette, for anything I know.”
“No, she’s not that. Proud as Lucifer, but no coquette. If she would not
stoop to take me when I had nothing to be ashamed of, do you think she
would lead me on now?” said Lane, with great bitterness.
“Then she has refused you?”
“Yes, she has; I need not be ashamed to own it, but it was all my
father’s fault.”
“No doubt your father expects you to marry some girl of better family
and expectations. This young lady has nothing of that sort, I take it.”
“No; have not I told you she earns her own living?”
“Very poor, then?”
“Not poor enough to marry me!”
Waldon asked these leading questions with keen interest. All his
indifference was gone since he had seen that girl on horseback.
“Better family!” exclaimed Lee, breaking out bitterly after a long
silence. “When my family heard that I was in earnest, they flew at me,
and there was nothing bad enough to say of her. She heard of it, and
forbade me ever to enter her presence again. The old man had done it
all, but I have paid him off. This rustication will cut his pride up
root and branch.”
“But the young lady?”
“She must think what she pleases, do what she likes; she cannot treat me
any more heartlessly than she has already done!”
In a passion of distress the young man sprang up, dashed his clenched
hand against the punch-bowl, and shivered it to atoms. Then he rushed
down-stairs, and walked swiftly down the road, as if possessed of a wild
idea that he would overtake the horse that had carried Clara Anderson
away.
All that afternoon the young man spent in walking up and down the damp
highway, regardless of water or mud, or wandering off into the woods
where rain-drops that the leaves had hoarded drenched him like a storm.
Long after dark he lingered in sight of the tavern, dreading to enter
it; for the sight of Clara Anderson had sobered him, and in his
despondency he fairly loathed the people with whom he had spent the
previous night.
Late in the evening the young man entered the tavern stealthily, for he
shrank from meeting any of his college friends, and hoped to reach his
chamber unnoticed, but the door of Waldon’s room was open as he passed
it, and struck with a sudden idea he went in.
“Is it you?” said Waldon, looking up from the volume he was reading.
“White as a ghost too. I say, young man, this sort of life will soon use
you up.”
“Let it,” answered Lee. “I have been growing desperate for months; now I
don’t care what becomes of me.”
“That only proves how young you are,” said Waldon. “Why, man, if I
wanted a girl, I would have her; but then I have seen something of the
world. You are hardly outside of the college walls.”
Lee suddenly lifted himself upright, and held out his hand.
“Waldon,” he said, “you are a prime fellow; all the boys say that you
are ready to help anybody out of a scrape. Will you help me?”
“Help you—how?”
“You are a gentleman, a scholar, and more than that, a first-class
writer, besides a power of speech that would win an angel out of Heaven.
See what you can do with mine! Go to Clara Anderson and try to make her
think more kindly of me.”
Waldon started, and a strange hot flush swept his face.
“What I can do with Miss Anderson—is that what you mean?”
“Just that. If she will not listen to you, there is no hope.”
Waldon arose and took the hand Lane had extended. The quick light of
some inward purpose, noble or selfish, kindled his gray eyes.
“Yes,” he said, “I will see this girl.”
Lane wrung the hand in his.
“There, there,” said Waldon, releasing his hand with a smile. “Get some
sleep if you can. To-morrow you shall tell me everything about this
young lady, and I will do my best for you.”
“That is kind. Waldon, you are a princely fellow. Perhaps you might
break this college business to the governor while you are about it. The
thing has got to be done, I suppose, and it had better be a friend than
an enemy who tells him. He’s a great reader and will know all about
you.”
“Very well,” answered Waldon. “Say good-night, and I’ll do my best for
you.”
Lane turned to go, then came back again, leaning his hand heavily on the
table.
“You can promise her everything, Waldon. I will reform entirely; never
go on another bender in my life. I’ll settle right down in that village,
study law, and bluff the old man on his own bench. Don’t hesitate to
promise. I’ll be sure to back you up.”
A mocking smile was on Waldon’s lip as he answered:
“Well, well, I will go as far in that direction as the case will permit.
Now, good-night!”
“Good-night!”