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Mildred Keith

<h2>Chapter Sixteenth.</h2> <div class='poem'> "Oh jealousy! thou bane of pleasing friendship, Thou worst invader of our tender bosoms: How does thy rancour poison all our softness, And turn our gentle natures into bitterness!" —Rowe. </div> The news was too good to keep, and Rupert could not forbear stopping at the smithy on his return and giving Gotobed a hint of how matters stood. To say that the certainty of a decided rejection of Ransquattle's suit lifted a burden of anxiety from young Lightcap's mind, is not an over-estimate of the relief the boy's communication afforded him. He had been moody and depressed since his visit of the morning to Ransquattle's shop, and had refused to give Rhoda Jane any satisfaction as to his intentions in regard to making one of the sleighing party of the following evening. She was therefore agreeably surprised when toward bed-time he came, in quite a merry mood,[201] into the kitchen where she sat sewing alone, their mother having stepped out to see a neighbor, to tell her that he had decided to go. "Well, I'm glad of it," she said, "and who are you going to take?" He colored at the question and answered almost doggedly, "I'm going after Sarah Miller." "Why don't you ask Mildred Keith?" "'Cause there ain't no use; Ormsby's headed me off there." "Yes; an' if you don't look out, with yer pokin' ways, he'll head you off altogether, and marry her afore you know it." "She ain't goin' off in such a hurry," he muttered, drumming on the table with his fingers; then jumping up from his chair and going over to the stove, making a pretense of warming himself that he might avoid the keen scrutiny of his sister's sharp eyes; "but what's the use o' me a tryin' with all them fellers round?" "Gote Lightcap, I'm ashamed of you!" exclaimed Rhoda Jane. "If I was a man I'd have more pluck by a long shot. 'Twouldn't be me that would let any feller get ahead where I was amind to go in and win." "You don't know nothin' about it," he retorted, lighting a candle and stalking off to bed. [202] "Dear me, if he only had half my spunk!" said Rhoda Jane, looking after him with scornful eyes and a curling lip. The wish was echoed more than once in his heart as he lay awake far into the night revolving the subject in his mind, and filled with longings, doubts and fears. He had been so greatly rejoiced over the downfall of Ransquattle's hopes; yet after all what did it avail him while the other three, whose superiority he could not help acknowledging to himself, remained in the way? Alas, there was no great cause for exultation that one rival out of four had been removed from his path. Still was it quite certain that they were all rivals? might it not be that Miss Chetwood or Miss Grange was the more attractive girl to one or all of them? The six were so constantly seen together, the attentions of the three young men were so equally divided between the three girls, that who could tell how they were going to pair off, if at all? Besides there was no accounting for tastes and a lady didn't always select that one from among her admirers whom other people in general considered the most desirable match. There was yet a spark of hope for him, but—ah[203] if he only had Rhoda Jane's pluck and energy of determination! Near sunset of the next day a large omnibus sleigh drawn by four horses with jingling bells, and well supplied with buffalo robes and other appliances for keeping the cold at bay, went from house to house in Pleasant Plains, picking up the girls and "boys" to the number of a dozen or more—a very merry company—then glided swiftly on over the snow for some six or eight miles. The sleighing was fine, the weather not severe; the moon rose soon after the setting of the sun, and the girls being well muffled up in hoods, cloaks and other wraps, were warm and cosy, and vastly enjoyed the ride. Of course the lads did the same. They laughed, jested and sang, and found time fly as swiftly as the horses; who seemed to make nothing of their load. The destination of the party was a hotel in a neighboring village, where a supper had been ordered for them some days before. It was served up, hot and savory, shortly after their arrival. A couple of hours were afterward spent in the parlor of the hotel, in social chat and playing games; and here they were joined by Mr.[204] Timothy Buzzard, who taught a singing school in this town also. "There's another rival," thought Gotobed, jealously watching him carrying on a lively conversation with Mildred; "'pears like every body's after her; and I can't get no chance at all." Rhoda Jane was equally jealous—partly for her brother, but still more for herself; because last year Mr. Buzzard had waited upon her more than on any other girl in Pleasant Plains, and she considered him her property and "didn't fancy bein' cut out by no newcomer nor by anybody else, for that matter." Influenced by the desire to separate the two, she was the first to suggest that it was time to start for home. She was agreeably surprised that Mildred promptly seconded the motion. Some objected, saying there was no hurry, but as it was now eleven o'clock, these were overruled by the majority, and the sleigh was presently announced as in readiness. "Can't we make room for another passenger?" some one asked, as amid laughter and jesting, they were crowding into the vehicle. "Who is it?" queried another. "Why, Buzzard would—" [205] "No, we hain't room for no more?" interrupted Gotobed. "We're not agoin' to have the ladies crowded." "Speak fur yerself, Gote Lightcap," spoke up Rhoda Jane with spirit. "There ain't none of us so disobligin' as not to be willin' to scrouge a little for the sake of accommodatin' a fellow critter in distress. Set up a little closer, girls, and there'll be lots o' room." "Yes; the more the merrier, and the closer the warmer," assented Sarah Miller, Gote Lightcap's partner for the expedition, who had noticed with vexation and chagrin his evident interest in Mildred Keith. "Come on, Buzzard," making room for the singing teacher between Rhoda Jane and herself. "Thank you, ladies. I shall be a thorn between two roses," he said, taking the offered seat with a laugh at his own stale jest. "Now we've got the singing master along, let's have some music," said Rhoda Jane, when they were fairly on their way. "Yes, you'll be expected to pay your way Buzzard," remarked Ormsby. "I hope I'll always be found willing to do that," he responded. "Miss Lightcap, what shall I sing?" Highly pleased that the choice was given[206] her, Rhoda Jane promptly named a love song she had heard him sing as a solo. He gave it, then another, selected by Miss Miller, then turning to Mildred, "I think it is your turn now, Miss Keith," he said. She proposed a round he had taught them that winter, saying all could join in it. All did so with right good will. Other rounds, glees, choruses and solos followed. They sang on even after reaching Pleasant Plains; sang on till but two or three were left as one after another was set down at his or her own door. A light burned in the parlor at Mr. Keith's and the front door was opened before the sleigh had quite drawn up to it. "Poor, dear mother! what a shame to have kept you up so long!" Mildred exclaimed as she came in. "Never mind," was the cheerful reply. "Here's a good warm fire; take this arm-chair close to it, and don't remove any of your wraps till you cease to feel chilly. I should have prepared you some hot lemonade but for one little difficulty in the way; no lemons to be had. Coffee would keep you awake; but you shall have a glass of good rich milk; either hot[207] or cold, as you prefer. Now tell me what sort of a time you had." "I wish every girl had such a mother as mine," Mildred said, smiling fondly up into the face she loved so well. "I verily believe I take as much pleasure in recounting my adventures to you as in going through them. And it is so nice to have so safe and wise and loving a confidante. "Mother, I have a great deal to tell you, not so much about what has occurred to-night as of something that happened last night. I have been looking for an opportunity all day, but without finding it; for you know we were unusually busy all the morning and had company all the afternoon till it was time for me to get ready for the sleigh-ride." Mrs. Keith glanced at the face of a tall old-fashioned clock ticking in a corner of the room. "I want very much to hear your story, daughter; but if you can sleep without having told it I think we will reserve it till to-morrow; for see! it is now half-past twelve." The girl would have been glad to unburden her mind and to learn if her mother approved—not her rejection of Ransquattle—of that there could be no doubt—but her manner[208] of doing it; but that dear mother's face cheerful though it was, told of physical exhaustion and need of sleep. Mildred rose hastily. "High time then that we wore both in bed. My story will keep perfectly well till to-morrow." "Sit down and finish warming yourself," Mrs. Keith said, with a smile. "I want to hear about to-night. We will keep the longer story for to-morrow." The Lightcaps found their house all dark the family had retired to bed hours ago, but leaving the kitchen door unlocked and a good fire in the stove. "Good and warm in here," remarked Gotobed, feeling for the candle and matches his mother was sure to have left on the table ready for them. "Yes; feels comfortable. I shall set down and warm a bit 'fore I crawl up to that there cold bed-room." "Me too; don't expect to sleep none when I do get to bed," growled Gote, as he succeeded in lighting the candle, after two or three ineffectual attempts, and set it on the table again. "Kind o' eggzited are ye?" "Some. I say, what did you make room for that—" [209] "Don't swear;" she sneered, as he paused for a suitable cognomen to bestow upon Buzzard. "I wa'n't agoin' to!" he said angrily; "not but what I've sufficient cause in your letting that unclean bird in amongst us decent folks." "There now; that'll do fur to-night," she snapped. "Tim. Buzzard ain't no more an unclean bird than you are; he's twicet as good lookin' and sings like a nightingale. "But now see here; don't let's quarrel, but go to work together to bring things round right. You don't want him to cut you out with Mildred Keith, and I don't want her to cut me out with him. So now you just spunk up and pop the question right off. If you don't, one or other o' them fellers'll get ahead o' you; you may just take my word for that." Gotobed dropped his head into his hands and sighed deeply, then rose and walked the floor. Rhoda Jane watched him with an eager, half-contemptuous look. "Well!" he said at length, "I wisht I knowed how!" "Knowed how! you needn't make many words about it; 'tain't like makin' up a sermon or a president's message." [210] "It's a heap more important; the happiness of a feller's whole life a dependin' onto it." Silence for some minutes, Rhoda Jane sitting meditatively before the stove, her feet on its hearth, her hands clasped round her knees, while her brother continued his restless walk. She was the first to speak. "I'd write it out if I was you." "I ain't used to writin' much." "Well, you can get used to it; you can try and try till you've writ somethin' that'll do." "I couldn't write anything good enough for her to see." "Then take t'other way." "I don't never git no chance; and if I did I'd be tongue-tied, sure as the world." "Then you'll have to write it, and I'll help you!" concluded Rhoda Jane with energy. She arose as she spoke, picked up the candle, stepped quickly to a corner shelf in the next room, whence she brought an inkstand and a quill pen. Setting these down on the kitchen table, she went back, and opening a bureau drawer where miscellaneous articles were kept, fished out from its depths a sheet of foolscap, which she spread out beside the inkstand. "That ain't nice enough," said Gotobed, eyeing it disapprovingly. [211] "Make it up on that and get better at the store to-morrow to copy it onto," returned his sister. "Now you set down and go at it like a man; or maybe I'd better say like a woman," she added sarcastically. "If I'd only had an edication!" groaned Gotobed, taking up the pen; "but it's mighty hard on a feller—such things as this is—when he hasn't." "Well, do the best you kin, and mebbe it'll come out right for all. You're good-lookin' and got a good trade and can make a good livin' for her. Just tell her that; and tell her you think she's as purty as a picter, and good-tempered, and knows a lot; and that you worship the ground she walks on, and won't never let the wind blow rough on her, won't never say no cross words to her, and—and a lot more o' such stuff; that's what girls like." "Well, I s'pose you'd ought to know, seeing you belong to the sect; but it's a heap easier for you to say it than for me to git it writ down in black and white," he sighed. "I declare I'm clear beat out with you a'most," said Rhoda Jane, snuffing the candle impatiently; "and I've a great mind to leave you to make it up by yourself." But she went on coaxing, suggesting and[212] prompting, till between them they had composed an epistle which was satisfactory to her though not to her brother. "It's nigh onto three o'clock, and I'm awful tired and sleepy," she remarked, as at last they separated and sought their beds. The next day Gotobed searched the town for letter paper and bought half a quire of the best he could find. During the next week all his leisure moments were spent in making revised and improved copies of his and Rhoda Jane's joint composition. He had used his last sheet, and seized with a fit of desperation, he selected the one which seemed to him the least faulty and sent it by his sister. Mrs. Keith, opening the door in answer to Rhoda Jane's knock, was struck with the peculiar expression of the girl's face—a mixture of pride, condescension and exultation. "Good evenin' Mis' Keith. Where's Mildred?" she said, stepping in and glancing about the room with an air of importance, "I want to see her pertickler; got somethin' fur her," and a conscious glance at the missive in her hand enlightened the quick-witted lady as to its nature. [213] "Mildred is not at home," she said; "will not be until bedtime; but anything you choose to leave with me will be given her on her return." Rhoda Jane considered a moment. She felt a strong desire to deliver the note into Mildred's own hand, and to watch her while reading it; but should she carry it back Gote might change his mind and put off indefinitely this business which she was so desirous to have carried through at once. She left it, though with evident reluctance. She presently congratulated herself that she had done so. Gotobed, eagerly awaiting her return, peering anxiously every other minute through the smithy door, hailed her in breathless excitement. "Well, what—what did she—" "She wasn't there. She's gone out somewheres and won't be back till bedtime." "Give it to me then; quick!" and he held out his hand with a peremptory gesture. "I ain't got it," Rhoda Jane answered with a sardonic grin. "Where is it? you ain't gone and left it," he cried aghast. "Yes, I have; I give it to Mis' Keith." Gotobed groaned. "I'd thought better of[214] it; I'd throw it in the fire this minute if I had it here. She'll think me a fool. I know she will!" "If she does she's one," returned Rhoda Jane shortly, and left him to his unavailing regrets. How they tortured him! how could he bear the suspense. Mildred was merciful and did not keep him in doubt any longer than necessary. He found a letter next morning, in the post-office, with his address upon it, written in a lady's delicate graceful hand. His heart seemed to jump into his mouth at the sight. He almost snatched it from the postmaster's hand, and without stopping to answer the jesting remark of that functionary on his sudden accession of color, hurried away, never stopping till he reached the privacy of his own room, thankful that he succeeded in doing so without being seen by any of the family. But now it was a full minute ere he could summon courage to open the missive and learn his fate. And even when it lay open before him he passed his hand several times across his eyes as if to clear his sight. Yet it was very plainly written;—also[215] plainly expressed; a distinct, decided, though very kindly rejection of his suit; the only reason given that she could not love him and a loveless marriage could be fruitful of nothing but misery to both parties. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i028.jpg" width-obs="174" height-obs="46" alt="decoration" /></div> <hr class="chap" />[216] <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i029.jpg" width-obs="234" height-obs="49" alt="decoration" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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