MRS. YORKE FINDS A GENTLEMAN
When Mrs. Yorke arrived at the hotel, Dr. Balsam was nowhere to be
found. She was just sending off a messenger to despatch a telegram to
the nearest city for a surgeon, when she saw the Doctor coming up the
hill toward the hotel at a rapid pace.
He tied his horse, and, with his saddle-pockets over his arm, came
striding up the walk. There was something reassuring in the quick, firm
step with which he came toward her. She had not given him credit for so
much energy.
Mrs. Yorke led the way toward her rooms, giving a somewhat highly
colored description of the accident, the Doctor following without a
word, taking off his gloves as he walked. They reached the door, and
Mrs. Yorke flung it open with a flurry.
"Here he is at last, my poor child!" she exclaimed.
The sight of Alice lying on a lounge quite effaced Mrs. Yorke from the
Doctor's mind. The next second he had taken the girl's hand, and holding
it with a touch that would not have crumpled a butterfly's wings, he was
taking a flitting gauge of her pulse. Mrs. Yorke continued to talk
volubly, but the Doctor took no heed of her.
"A little rest with fixation, madam, is all that is necessary," he said
quietly, at length, when he had made an examination. "But it must be
rest, entire rest of limb and body--and mind," he added after a pause.
"Will you ask Mrs. Gates to send me a kettle of hot water as soon as
possible?"
Mrs. Yorke had never been so completely ignored by any physician. She
tossed her head, but she went to get the water.
"So my young man Keith found you and brought you down the Ridge?" said
the Doctor presently to the girl.
"Yes; how do you know?" she asked, her blue eyes wide open with
surprise.
"Never mind; I may tell you next time I come, if you get well quickly,"
he said smiling.
"Who is he?" she asked.
"He is the teacher of the school over the Ridge--what is known as the
Ridge College," said the Doctor, with a smile.
Just at this moment Mrs. Yorke bustled in.
"Alice, I thought the Doctor said you were not to talk."
The Doctor's face wore an amused expression.
"Well, just one more question," said the girl to him. "How much does a
sack of salt weigh?"
"About two hundred pounds. To be accurate,--"
"No wonder he said I was light," laughed the girl.
"Who is a young man named Keith--a school-boy, who lives about here?"
inquired Mrs. Yorke, suddenly.
"The Keiths do not live about here," said the Doctor. "Gordon Keith, to
whom you doubtless refer, is the son of General Keith, who lives in an
adjoining county below the Ridge. His father was our minister during
the war--"
At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the appearance of
Mrs. Gates with the desired kettle of hot water, and the Doctor,
stopping in the midst of his sentence, devoted all of his attention to
his patient.
The confidence which he displayed and the deftness with which he worked
impressed Mrs. Yorke so much that when he was through she said: "Doctor,
I have been wondering how a man like you could be content to settle down
in this mountain wilderness. I know many fashionable physicians in
cities who could not have done for Alice a bit better than you have
done--indeed, nothing like so well--with such simple appliances."
Dr. Balsam's eyes rested on her gravely. "Well, madam, we could not all
be city doctors. These few sheep in the wilderness need a little
shepherding when they get sick. You must reflect also that if we all
went away there would be no one to look after the city people when they
come to our mountain wilderness; they, at least, need good attendance."
By the time Gordon awoke next morning he had determined that he would
see his new acquaintance again. He must see her; he would not allow her
to go out of his life so; she should, at least, know who he was, and
Mrs. Yorke should know, too.
That afternoon, impelled by some strange motive, he took the path over
the Ridge again. It had been a long day and a wearing one. He had tried
Hannibal once more; but his pupils cared less for Hannibal than for the
bumble-bees droning in the window-frame. For some reason the dull
routine of lessons had been duller than usual. The scholars had never
been so stupid. Again and again the face that he had seen rest on his
arm the day before came between him and his page, and when the eyes
opened they were as blue as forget-me-nots. He would rouse himself with
a start and plunge back bravely into the mysteries of physical geography
or of compound fractions, only to find himself, at the first quiet
moment, picking his way through the pines with that white face resting
against his shoulder.
When school was out he declined the invitation of the boys to walk with
them, and settled himself in his chair as though he meant to prepare the
lessons for the next day. After a quarter of an hour, spent mostly in
revery, he rose, put up his books, closed the door, and took the same
path he had followed the day before. As he neared the spot where he had
come on the girl, he almost expected to find her propped against the
rock as he had found her the afternoon before. He was conscious of a
distinct shock of loneliness that she was not there. The woods had never
appeared so empty; the soughing of the pines had never sounded
so dreary.
He threw himself down on the thick brown carpet. He had not felt so
lonely in years. What was he! And what chance did he have! He was alone
in the wilderness. He had been priding himself on being the superior of
those around him, and that strange woman had treated him with
condescension, when he had strained his heart out to get her daughter to
the road safely and without pain.
His eyes rested on the level, pale line of the horizon far below him.
Down there lay all he had ever known and loved. All was changed; his
home belonged to an alien. He turned his face away. On the other side,
the distant mountains lay a mighty rampart across the sky. He wondered
if the Alps could be higher or more beautiful. A line he had been
explaining the day before to his scholars recurred to him: "Beyond those
mountains lies Italy."
Gradually it came to him that he was duller than his scholars. Those who
were the true leaders of men surmounted difficulties. Others had crossed
the mountains to find the Italy of their ambition. Why should not he?
The thought strung him up sharply, and before he knew it he was standing
upright, his face lifted to the sky, his nerves tense, his pulses
beating, and his breath coming quickly. Beyond that blue rim lay the
world. He would conquer and achieve honors and fame, and win back his
old home, and build up again his fortune, and do honor to his name. He
seized his books, and, with one more look at the heights beyond, turned
and strode swiftly along the path.
It was, perhaps, fortunate that the day had been a dull one for both
Mrs. Yorke and Alice. Alice had been confined to her lounge, and after
the first anxiety was over Mrs. Yorke had been inclined to scold her for
her carelessness and the fright she had given her. They had not agreed
about a number of matters. Alice had been talking about her adventure
until Mrs. Yorke had begun to criticise her rescuer as "a spindling
country boy."
"He was strong enough to bring me down the mountain a mile in his arms,"
declared the girl. "He said it was half a mile, but I am sure it was
a mile."
Mrs. Yorke was shocked, and charged Alice with being susceptible enough
to like all men.
"All those who are strong and good-looking," protested Alice.
Their little difference had now been made up, and Alice, who had been
sitting silent, with a look of serious reflection on her face, said:
"Mamma, why don't you invite him over to dinner?"
Mrs. Yorke gave an exclamation of surprise.
"Why, Alice, we know nothing about him."
But the girl was insistent.
"Why, mamma, I am sure he is a gentleman. Dr. Balsam said he was one of
the best people about here, and his father was a clergyman. Besides, he
is very interesting. His father was in the war; I believe he was
a general."
Mrs. Yorke pondered a moment, her pen in the air. Her thoughts flew to
New York and her acquaintances there. Their view was her gauge.
"Well," she said doubtfully, "perhaps, later I will; there is no one
here whom we know except Mrs. Nailor. I have heard that the people are
very interesting if you can get at them. I'll invite him first to
luncheon Saturday, and see how he is."
It is, doubtless, just as well that none of us has the magic mirror
which we used to read of in our childhood, which showed what any one we
wished to know about was doing. It would, no doubt, cause many
perplexities from which, in our ignorance, we are happily free. Had
Gordon Keith known the terms on which he was invited to take a meal in
the presence of Mrs. Yorke, he would have been incensed. He had been
fuming about her condescension ever since he had met her; yet he no
sooner received her polite note than he was in the best humor possible.
He brushed up his well-worn clothes, treated himself to a new necktie,
which he had been saving all the session, and just at the appointed hour
presented himself with a face so alight with expectancy, and a manner
which, while entirely modest, was so natural and easy, that Mrs. Yorke
was astonished. She could scarcely credit the fact that this bright-eyed
young man, with his fine nose, firm chin, and melodious voice, was the
same with the dusty, hot-faced, dishevelled-looking country boy to whom
she had thought of offering money for a kindness two days before.
When Keith first entered the room Alice Yorke was seated in a
reclining-chair, enveloped in soft white, from which she gave him a
smiling greeting. For years afterwards, whenever Gordon Keith thought of
beauty it was of a girl smiling up at him out of a cloud of white. It
was a charming visit for him, and he reproached himself for his hard
thoughts about Mrs. Yorke. He aired all of his knowledge, and made such
a favorable impression on the good lady that she became very friendly
with him. He did not know that Mrs. Yorke's kindness to him was
condescension, and her cordiality inspired as much by curiosity
as courtesy.
"Dr. Balsam has been telling us about you, Mr. Keith," said Mrs. Yorke,
with a bow which brought a pleased smile to the young man's face.
"He has? The Doctor has always been good to me. I am afraid he has a
higher opinion of me than I deserve," he said, with a boy's pretended
modesty, whilst his eyes strongly belied his words.
Mrs. Yorke assured him that such could not be the case.
"Don't you want to know what he said?" asked Miss Alice, with a
bell-like laugh.
"Yes; what?" he smiled.
"He said if you undertook to carry a bag of salt down a mountain, or up
it either, you would never rest until you got there."
Her eyes twinkled, and Gordon appeared half teased, though he was
inwardly pleased.
Mrs. Yorke looked shocked.
"Oh, Alice, Dr. Balsam did not say that, for I heard him!" she exclaimed
reprovingly. "Dr. Balsam was very complimentary to you, Mr. Keith," she
explained seriously. "He said your people were among the best families
about here." She meant to be gracious; but Gordon's face flushed in
spite of himself. The condescension was too apparent.
"Your father was a pre--a--a--clergyman?" said Mrs. Yorke, who had
started to say "preacher," but substituted the other word as more
complimentary.
"My father a clergyman! No'm. He is good enough to be one; but he was a
planter and a--a--soldier," said Gordon.
Mrs. Yorke looked at her daughter in some mystification. Could this be
the wrong man?
"Why, he said he was a clergyman?" she insisted.
Gordon gazed at the girl in bewilderment.
"Yes; he said he was a minister," she replied to his unspoken inquiry.
Gordon broke into a laugh.
"Oh, he was a special envoy to England after he was wounded."
The announcement had a distinct effect upon Mrs. Yorke, who instantly
became much more cordial to Gordon. She took a closer look at him than
she had given herself the trouble to take before, and discovered, under
the sunburn and worn clothes, something more than she had formerly
observed. The young man's expression had changed. A reference to his
father always sobered him and kindled a light in his eyes. It was the
first time Mrs. Yorke had taken in what her daughter meant by calling
him handsome.
"Why, he is quite distinguished-looking!" she thought to herself. And
she reflected what a pity it was that so good-looking a young man should
have been planted down there in that out-of-the-way pocket of the world,
and thus lost to society. She did not know that the kindling eyes
opposite her were burning with a resolve that not only Mrs. Yorke, but
the world, should know him, and that she should recognize his
superiority.