"I didn't think," she said, as she went along with Nan, "that the world was as beautiful as it seems to be to-day."

"Mr. Sanders says," replied Nan, "that it is the most comfortable world he has ever found; but somehow--well, you know we can't all be happy the same way at the same time."

"Your day is still to come," said Margaret, "and when it does, I want to be there."

"You say that," remarked Nan, "but you know you would have felt better if you hadn't had so much company. For a wonder Tasma Tid wouldn't go in the house with me. She said something was happening in there. Now, how did she know?" Tasma Tid had joined them as they came through the gate, and now Nan turned to her with the question.

"Huh! we know dem trouble w'en we see um. Dee ain't no trouble now. She done gone--dem trouble. But yan' come mo'." She pointed to Miss Polly Gaither, who came toddling along with her work-bag and her turkey-tail fan.

"Howdy, girls? I'm truly glad to see you. You are looking well both of you, and health is a great blessing. I have just been to Lucy Lumsden's, Nan, and she thinks a great deal of you. I could tell you things that would turn your head. But I'm really sorry for Lucy; she's almost as lonely as I am. They say Gabriel is sure to be dealt with; I'm told there is no other way out of it. Have you two heard anything?" Margaret and Nan shook their heads, but gestures of that kind were not at all satisfactory to Miss Polly. "They say that little Cephas was sent down to prepare Gabriel for the worst. But I didn't say a word about that to Lucy, and if you two girls go there, you must be very careful not to drop a word about it. Lucy is getting old, and she can't bear up under trouble as she used to could. She has aged wonderfully in the past few weeks. Don't you think so, Nan?"

She held up her ear-trumpet as she spoke, and Nan made a great pretence of yelling into it, though not a sound issued from her lips. Miss Polly frowned. "Don't talk so loud, my dear; you will make people think I'm a great deal deafer than I am. But you always would yell at me, though I have asked you a dozen times to speak only in ordinary tones. Well, I don't agree with you about Lucy. She has broken terribly since Gabriel was carried off; she is not the same woman, she takes no interest in affairs at all. I told her a piece of astonishing news, and she paid no more attention to it than if she hadn't heard it; and she didn't use to be that way. Well, we all have our troubles, and you two will have yours when you grow a little older. That is one thing of which there is always enough left to go around. The supply is never exhausted."

After delivering this truism, Miss Polly waved her turkey-tail fan as majestically as she knew how, and went toddling along home. Miss Polly was a kind-hearted woman, but she couldn't resist the inclination to gossip and tattle. Her tattle did no harm, for her weakness was well advertised in that community; but, unfortunately, her deafness had made her both suspicious and irritable. When in company, for instance, she insisted on feeling that people were talking about her when the conversation was not carried on loud enough for her to hear the sound of the voices, if not the substance of what was said, and she had a way of turning to the one closest at hand, with the remark, "They should have better manners than to talk of the afflictions of an old woman, for it is not at all certain that they will escape." Naturally this would call out a protest on the part of all present, whereupon Miss Polly would shake her head, and remark that she was not as deaf as many people supposed; that, in fact, there were days when she could hear almost as well as she heard before the affliction overtook her.

"I wonder," said Nan, whose curiosity was always ready to be aroused, "what piece of astonishing news Miss Polly has been telling Grandmother Lumsden. Perhaps she has told her of the events of the morning at Mr.

Tomlin's."

"That is absurd, Nan," Margaret declared. "Still, it would make no difference to me. He was the only person that I ever wanted to hide my feelings from. I never so much as dreamed that he could care for me--and, oh, Nan! suppose that he should be pretending simply to please me!"

"You goose!" cried Nan. "Whoever heard of that man pretending, or trying to deceive any one? If he was a young man, now, it would be different."

"Not with all young men," Margaret a.s.serted. "There is Gabriel Tolliver--I don't believe he would deceive any one."

"Oh, Gabriel--but why do you mention Gabriel?"

"Because his eyes are so beautiful and honest," answered Margaret.

But Nan tossed her head; she would never believe anything good about Gabriel unless she said it herself--or thought it, for she could think hundreds, yes, thousands, of things about Gabriel that she wouldn't dare to breathe aloud, even though there was no living soul within a hundred miles. And that fact needn't make Gabriel feel so awfully proud, for there were other persons and things she could think about.

Ah, well! love is such a restless, suspicious thing, such an irritating, foolish, freakish, solemn affair, that it is not surprising the two young women were somewhat afraid of it when they found themselves in its clutches.

CHAPTER THIRTY

_Miss Polly Has Some News_

The news which Miss Polly had laid as a social offering at Mrs. Lucy Lumsden's feet, and which she boasted was very astonishing, had the appearance of absurdity on the face of it. Miss Polly, with her work-bag and her turkey-tail fan, had paid a very early visit to the Lumsden Place. She went in very quietly, greeted her old friend in a subdued manner, and then sat staring at her with an expression that Mrs. Lumsden failed to understand. It might have been the result of special and unmitigated woe, or of physical pain, or of severe fatigue. Whatever the cause, it was unnatural, and so Gabriel's grandmother made haste to inquire about it.

"Why, what in the world is the matter, Polly? Are you ill?"

At this Miss Polly acted as if she had been aroused from a dream or a revery. Her work-bag slid from her lap, and her turkey-tail fan would have fallen had it not been attached to her wrist by a piece of faded ribbon. "I declare, Lucy, I don't know that I ought to tell you; and I wouldn't if I thought you would repeat it to a living soul. It is more than marvellous; it is, indeed, Lucy"--leaning a little nearer, and lowering her voice, which was never very loud--"I honestly believe that Ritta Claiborne is in love with old Silas Tomlin! I certainly do."

"You must have some reason for believing that," said Mrs. Lumsden, with a benevolent smile, the cause of which the ear-trumpet could not interpret.

"Reasons! I have any number, Lucy. I'm certain you won't believe me, but it has come to that pa.s.s that old Silas calls on her every night, and they sit in the parlour there and talk by the hour, sometimes with Eugenia, and sometimes without her. It would be no exaggeration at all if I were to tell you that they are talking together in that parlour five nights out of the seven. Now, what do they mean by that?"

"Why, there's nothing in that, Polly. I have heard that they are old acquaintances. Surely old acquaintances can talk together, and be interested in one another, without being in love. Why, very frequently of late Meriwether Clopton comes here. I hope you don't think I'm in love with him."

"Certainly not, Lucy, most certainly not. But do you have Meriwether's portrait hanging in your parlour? And do you go and sit before it, and study it, and sometimes shake your finger at it playfully? I tell you, Lucy, there are some queer people in this world, and Ritta Claiborne is one of them."

"She is excellent company," said Mrs. Lumsden.

"She is, she is," Miss Polly a.s.sented. "She is full of life and fun; she sees the ridiculous side of everything; and that is why I can't understand her fondness for old Silas. It is away beyond me. Why, Lucy, she treats that portrait as if it were alive. What she says to it, I can't tell you, for my hearing is not as good now as it was before my ears were affected. But she says something, for I can see her lips move, and I can see her smile. My eyesight is as good now as ever it was. I'm telling you what I saw, not what I heard. The way she went on over that portrait was what first attracted my attention; but for that I would never have had a suspicion. Now, what do you think of it, Lucy?"

"Nothing in particular. If it is true, it would be a good thing for Silas. He is not as mean as a great many people think he is."

"He may not be, Lucy," responded Miss Polly, "but he brings a bad taste in my mouth every time I see him."

"Well, directly after Sherman pa.s.sed through," said Mrs. Lumsden, "and when few of us had anything left, Silas came to me, and asked if I needed anything, and he was ready to supply me with sufficient funds for my needs."

"Well, he didn't come to me," Miss Polly declared with emphasis, "and if anybody in this world had needs, I did. You remember Robert Gaither?

Well, Silas loaned him some money during the war, and although Robert was in a bad way, old Silas collected every cent down to the very last, and Robert had to go to Texas. Oh, I could tell you of numberless instances where he took advantage of those who had borrowed from him."

"I suppose that Mr. Lumsden had been kind to Silas when he was sowing his wild oats; indeed, I think my husband advanced him money when he had exhausted the supply allowed him by the executors of the Tomlin estate."

"And just think of it, Lucy--Ritta Claiborne sits there and plays the piano for old Silas, and sometimes Eugenia goes in and sings, and she has a beautiful voice; I'm not too deaf to know that."

It was then that Mrs. Lumsden leaned over and gave the ear-trumpet some very good advice. "If I were in your place, Polly, I wouldn't tell this to any one else. Mrs. Claiborne is an excellent woman; she comes of a good family, and she is cultured and refined. No doubt she is sensitive, and if she heard that you were spreading your suspicions abroad, she would hardly feel like staying in a house where----" Mrs. Lumsden paused. She had it on her tongue's-end to say, "in a house where she is spied upon," but she had no desire in the world to offend that simple-minded old soul, who, behind all her peculiarities and afflictions, had a very tender heart.

"I know what you mean, Lucy," said Miss Polly, "and your advice is good; but I can't help seeing what goes on under my eyes, and I thought there could be no harm in telling you about it. I am very fond of Ritta Claiborne, and as for Eugenia, why she is simply angelic. I love that child as well as if she were my own. If there's a flaw in her character, I have never found it. I'll say that much."

The explanation of Miss Polly's suspicions is not as simple as her recital of them. No one can account for some of the impulses of the human heart, or the vagaries of the human mind. It is easy to say that after Silas Tomlin had his last interview with Mrs. Claiborne, he permitted his mind to dwell on her personality and surroundings, and so fell gradually under a spell. Such an explanation is not only easy to imagine, but it is plausible; nevertheless, it would not be true. There is a sort of tradition among the brethren who deal with character in fiction that it must be consistent with itself. This may be necessary in books, for it sweeps away at one stroke ten thousand mysteries and problems that play around the actions of every individual, no matter how high, no matter how humble. How often do we hear it remarked in real life that the actions of such and such an individual are a source of surprise and regret to his friends; and how often in our own experience have we been shocked by the unexpected as it crops out in the actions of our friends and acquaintances!

For this and other reasons this chronicler does not propose to explain Silas's motives and movements and try to show that they are all consistent with his character, and that, therefore, they were all to be predicated from the beginning. What is certainly true is that Silas was one day stopped in the street by Eugenia, who inquired about Paul. He looked at the girl very gloomily at first, but when he began to talk about the troubles of his son, he thawed out considerably. In this case Eugenia's sympathies abounded, in fact were unlimited, and she listened with dewy eyes to everything Silas would tell her about Paul.

"You mustn't think too much about Paul," remarked Silas grimly, as they were about to part.

"Thank you, sir," replied Eugenia, with a smile, "I'll think just enough and no more. But it was my mother that told me to ask about him if I saw you. She is very fond of him. You never come to see us now," the sly creature suggested.

Silas stared at her before replying, and tried to find the gleam of mockery in her eyes, or in her smile. He failed, and his glances became shifty again. "Why, I reckon she'd kick me down the steps if I called without having some business with her. If you were to ask her who her worst enemy is, she'd tell you that I am the man."

"Well, sir," replied Eugenia archly, "I have been knowing mother a good many years, but I've never seen her put any one out of the house yet. We were talking about you to-day, and she said you must be very lonely, now that Paul is away, and I know she sympathises with those who are lonely; I've heard her say so many a time."

"Yes; that may be true," remarked Silas, "but she has special reasons for not sympathising with me. She knows me a great deal better than you do."

"I'm afraid you misjudge us both," said Eugenia demurely. "If you knew us better, you'd like us better. I'm sure of that."

"Humph!" grunted Silas. Then looking hard at the girl, he bluntly asked, "Is there anything between you and Paul?"

"A good many miles, sir, just now," she answered, making one of those retorts that Paul thought so fine.

"H-m-m; yes, you are right, a good many miles. Well, there can't be too many."

"I think you are cruel, sir. Is Paul not to come home any more? Paul is a very good friend of mine, and I could wish him well wherever he might be; but how would you feel, sir, if he were never to return?"