CHAPTER XX.

A WEIGHT OF SORROW--MARRYING A DRUNKARD--SUSPENSE.

Meantime Little Wolf had not stirred from her place by the window, neither had she withdrawn her gaze from the desolate scene without.

All nature was shrouded in snow. On the ground, on every tree and shrub, and in the air; snow was everywhere. But Little Wolf was too much absorbed in her own reflections to bestow a thought upon the raging storm.

From the graves of her parents, dimly seen through the whirling flakes, her mind had wandered to an equally painful subject, upon which the timely appearance of her beloved friend, Mrs. Tinknor, gave her the longed for opportunity to converse. She had always confided in that lady, as in a mother, and in the present instance, nothing was witheld pertaining to her feelings past and present towards Edward Sherman, and the relation in which he stood to her.

Mrs. Tinknor's previous interview with Tom had in a measure prepared her for Little Wolf's communication, but the tearless eye, so full of anguish, the white cheek and compressed lips, all so unlike her brilliant little friend, struck her painfully; and indignation towards the author of so much wretchedness was the uppermost feeling as, in conclusion, Little Wolf pleadingly asked, "what can I do, my dear Mrs.

Tinknor?"

Now Mrs. Tinknor was a mild, undemonstrative woman, not p.r.o.ne to giving advice, but the memory of all the wrongs which she had endured through the intemperance of her husband, wrongs which had sunk deep within her bleeding heart, nerved her to raise a warning voice, to save, if possible, one whom she really loved from a life, to which it made her shudder to look forward, and she freely and earnestly answered.

"Think no more of one, who, if you were to become his wife, would make your life, beyond all expression, miserable."

Little Wolf laid her hand quickly on that of her friend and looking straight into her eyes said vehemently, "I cannot, no, I cannot do that, could you?"

"Could I, rather, did I," said Mrs. Tinknor, drawing a long breath, "I had not the decision that marks your character, darling, and consequently am a drunkard's wife."

Mrs. Tinknor's voice fell very low, as she repeated the last words, and Little Wolf involuntarily clasped more closely the hand on which she had laid her own.

"You are not, really, what you called yourself, Mrs. Tinknor," she whispered, "n.o.body calls Squire Tinknor that, oh, do not talk so."

"I do not like to say it my dear, and I never said it before, but for your sake I lay open the hidden part of my life, and after you have heard me through I shall never give another word of advice as to your future course."

"I was just of your age, darling, and about to be married when an intimate friend said to me," "I'm afraid Mr. Tinknor is fond of drink, I saw him go into one of those drinking saloons." I answered carelessly; for I did not wish her to know that she had made me anxious; but that evening I repeated her words to my lover. He made light of it, and said a friend invited him to drink and he did not like to refuse; that he might be a man among men, that there was no danger, he could stop when he pleased, he only drank socially, never for the love of it.

"But my fears were aroused and I begged him with tears, to give up social drinking all together, and he finally appeared hurt, and finally asked me if I could not trust him, and I said yes; for he was so n.o.ble, so full of warm affection, that I was sure I could win him from those habits, which threatened to darken our sky. I ventured forth on a dangerous sea, and clouds and storms have been my portion.

"Spite of all you love him, and he loves you," Little Wolf ventured to say, "and while there is love there is hope, and some little comfort; life is not entirely aimless and barren."

Mrs. Tinknor so pitied Little Wolf, who had so bravely risen above all the misfortunes to which her young life had been subjected, only to sacrifice herself to a most unfortunate attachment, that, for the moment, she was silent not knowing what to say.

"O do not look so hopeless, dear Mrs. Tinknor," said Little Wolf eagerly, "tell me there is something to live for."

"We may, to be good, and do good," said Mrs. Tinknor slowly, as if to make quite sure of answering wisely.

Little Wolf caught at the words, "that is just what you are doing,"

she said, "and why may not I? I know you think I could not do as you have done; but you do not know how my heart is in this thing. I did not know myself until the trial came, why, Mrs. Tinknor, I could sacrifice my soul for his sake."

"O darling, darling, I cannot bear to hear you say so. I cannot bear to have you sacrifice yourself to one who would not even control a vitiated appet.i.te for your sake. Believe me you will regret it, if you become the wife of an inebriate."

"O he is not that, he is not that."

"He may not have come to that yet, dear child, but you have seen and heard enough to convince you that he is on the road from which few turn back. He has already felt the debasing effects of intoxicating drink and still he keeps on, and shall that n.o.ble soul of yours be for a whole life time bound to one with whom eventually there can be no sympathy? G.o.d forbid. You may remember, although you were very young, what your dear mother's sufferings were; could she speak to you now, what think you would be her advice?"

"O my dear, patient, loving, broken hearted mother," and Little Wolf burst into a paroxysm of tears.

Mrs. Tinknor leaned very tenderly over her young friend and kissed her cheek, and, after this little act of love and sympathy, she went down stairs, without so much as having hinted at the object for which she came. However to the surprise of all, Little Wolf spent the evening in the parlor with her guests, and at her earnest solicitation, they consented to delay their intended departure for a few days.

It was a sore disappointment to Edward Sherman to be obliged to meet Little Wolf day after day under the watchful eye of Tom Tinknor. But, to Little Wolf it was an infinite relief, for Mrs. Tinknor's words "think no more of one who if you were to become his wife, would make your life beyond all expression, miserable," rang continually in her ears: and, while her heart prompted her to a different course, her intellect in a measure approved the advice. Consequently she naturally shrank from a private interview, before her mind was fully prepared to meet the exigency.

The subject was not again broached between Mrs. Tinknor and herself until the morning that the first named started for her home, and it was only at the moment of their last fond leave taking, that Little Wolf leaned over the side of the sleigh and whispered in her ear, "I shall never be able to write to you about it, but if _he_ refuses to accept the condition which I feel I _ought_ to make, I will just send you a lock of my hair and you will know it is all over with us."

Her lip quivered as she turned away and as the Squire drove off, Tom who had observed her agitation said to his mother, "she is tender hearted, that savage Little Wolf after all."

CHAPTER XXI.

DADDY'S DIPLOMACY--A Pa.s.sAGE AT ARMS--FANNIE GREEN--A CATASTROPHE.

A sudden sense of responsibility seemed to fall upon Daddy, as with Little Wolf, he watched the Squire's swift gliding sleigh, and its occupants, until they had dwindled together, a mere speck on the silent river.

'Tween you and me, Honey, it won't du for you to be shiverin, here in the snow. Mr. Tom said I was fur to take care of you when he was gone; 'tween you and me Mr. Tom is oncommon nice young man, oncommon, considerin his father, very oncommon."

"How so Daddy?"

"'Tween you and me he's a teetotaler, out and out, and the Squire ain't. I ketched him sneakin off down to the brewery several times. I kinder think Tom takes after his mother, and its a good sign fur boys to take after their mother. Now there's Mr. Sherman, he takes after his father. His every motion is like the judge. To be sure, the Judge was a wonderful smart man, but then when I lived in them parts he was in the habit of drinkin, pretty heavy. Afore I left he signed the pledge, but there ain't no tellin how he would have turned out if he had lived."

It was plainly to be seen in whose interest Daddy was enlisted. His diplomatic efforts were listened to with great composure and he could only speculate on the result as he went into the house with Little Wolf.

The parlor was in a state of confusion, Mrs. Hawley and Sorrel Tom having combined forces to raise the greatest possible amount of dust and disorder out of the material at hand; such as the ashes from the Squire's segar inadvertantly dropped, the dirt from Tom's boots which he never remembered to clean, and Daddy's careless litter in making the fire. The light litter was easily disposed of, but the inevitable stain left by the melted snow upon the carpet occasioned an angry outburst from Sorrel Top, who did not see her young mistress just behind.

"Tom Tinknor is a filthy fellow," said she, and I'm glad he's gone; he kept me cleaning up after him all the time, and now here's two more great spots to be scrubbed."

"'Tween you and me Tom didn't make them are," said Daddy indignantly.

"He did, too."

"He didn't nuther, I see Mr. Sherman set in that are very spot yesterday."

At the commencement of the dispute, Little Wolf slipped away and sought refuge in her own room, and Daddy embraced the opportunity to lecture Sorrel Top soundly.

"'Tween you and me, you've disgusted the Honey," said he, "speakin so unrespectful of her friends."

"She don't know nothing about it," said Sorrel Top.

"'Tween you and me she stood right behind you and heered the hull,"

said Daddy triumphantly.

"I don't believe it," said Sorrel Top, getting very red in the face.

"I'll leave it to Miss Hawley," said Daddy.