Old Ebenezer Part 5

CHAPTER V.

THE BELLE OF THE TOWN.

Once in a long while Banker McElwin made it a policy to gather up a number of his boastful relations, reinforced by a number of friends, and then conduct the party to the house of another kinsman, where he would give them an evening of delight. He did not give notice of these gracious recognitions, preferring to make the event sweeter with surprise. On his part it was a generous forgetfulness of self-importance--it was as if a placid and beneficent moon had come to beam upon a cl.u.s.ter of stars. To the men he would quote stocks, as if, a lover of letters, he were giving a poem to a "mite society." Upon the ladies he would smile and throw off vague hints of future silks and fineries.

One evening this coterie gathered at the home of Jasper Staggs. Old Jasper, in his earlier days, had been a town marshal, and it was his boast that he had arrested Steve Day, the desperado who had choked the sheriff and defied the law. This great feat was remembered by the public, and old Jasper nursed it as a social pension. But it did not bring in revenue sufficient to sustain life, so he made a pretense of collecting difficult accounts while his wife and "old maid" daughter did needlework and attended to the few wants of one boarder, Sam Lyman. The "banker's society" recognized the Staggs family in the evening of the day which followed Sam Lyman's call at the First National, and was in excitable progress while Lyman, in ignorance of it all, prolonged his talk with Warren. In the family sitting room the banker talked of the possibility of a panic in Wall Street. In the parlor the younger relatives were playing games, with Annie Staggs, the old maid, as director of ceremonies. After a time they hit upon the game of forfeits. Miss Eva McElwin, the great man's daughter, fell under penalty, and the sentence was that she should go through the ceremony of marriage with the first man who came through the door. At that moment Sam Lyman entered the room. He was greeted with shouts and clapping of hands, and he drew back in dismay, but Miss Annie ran to him and led him forward. Eva McElwin, with a pout, turned to some one and said:

"What, with that thing?"

"Oh, you've got to," was shouted. "Yes, you have."

"Well, what is expected of me?" Lyman asked.

"Why," Miss Annie cried, "you've got to marry a young lady, the belle of Old Ebenezer."

He had often gazed at the girl, in church, had been struck by her beauty, but had shared the belief of the envious--that she was a charming "simpleton."

"Well, don't you think you'd better introduce us?"

"Oh, no, it will be all the funnier."

"Marry, and get acquainted afterwards, eh? Well, I guess that is the rule in society. I beg your pardon," he added, speaking to Miss McElwin, "for not appearing in a more appropriate garb, but as there seems to be some hurry in the matter, I haven't the time nor the clothes to meet a more fashionable demand. I am at your service."

He offered his arm and the girl took it with a laugh, but with more of scorn than of good humor.

"Take your places here," Miss Annie said. And then she cried: "Oh, where is Henry Bostic? We'll have him perform the ceremony. He'll make it so deliriously solemn." She ran away and soon returned, with a young man serious enough to have divided the pulpit with any circuit rider in the country.

The ceremony was performed, and then began the congratulations. "Oh, please quit," Miss McElwin pleaded. "I'm tired of it. Zeb," she said, turning to a bold looking young man, "tell them to quit."

"Here," he commanded, "we've got enough of this, so let's start on something else. Let's play old Sister Phoebe. Why the deuce won't they let us dance?"

"Henry," said Miss Annie, stepping out upon the veranda with the serious young man, "they always called you queer, but I must say that you know how to perform a marriage ceremony."

"I trust so," he answered.

"You do; and when you are ordained----"

"I was ordained this morning."

"What!" she cried. "Then the marriage came near being actual. It only required the license."

"The last legislature repealed the marriage license law," he replied.

"Mercy on me!" she cried.

"Mercy on them," said the young man who had been regarded as queer.

She took hold of a post to steady herself. She heard the deep voice of the banker; the droning tone of "Old Sister Phoebe" came from the parlor.

"Don't tremble so. It can't be helped now," said the young man. "It's nothing to cry about. How did I know? You said you wanted me to perform a marriage ceremony, and I did. How did I know it was in fun?

You didn't say so. The father and mother were in the other room. They could have come in and objected. How did I know but that they had given their consent, and stayed in the other room for sentimental reasons? I am not supposed to know everything."

"Oh, but who will tell Cousin McElwin?" she sobbed. "And who will tell Zeb Sawyer? Oh, it's awful, and it's all your fault, and you know it.

You are crazy, that's what you are."

"Well, you can exercise your own opinion about that. You people have all along said that I would never do anything, but if I haven't done something tonight to stir up the town----"

"Oh, you malicious thing. I don't know what to do! Oh, I don't know what is to become of me!"

"It's all very well to cry, for marriages are often attended by tears, but you should not call me malicious. Mr. McElwin laughed when my mother told him I was going to preach, and it almost broke her heart."

"Revengeful creature," she sobbed, clinging to the post.

"No, the Gospel is not revengeful, but it humbles pride, for that is a service done the Lord. Step in there and see if Mr. McElwin has anything to laugh about now. He laughed at my poor mother when he knew that all her earthly hope was centered in me. Well, I'll bid you good night."

"Oh, no," she cried, seizing him. "You shall not leave me to face it all. You shall not."

"No, that wouldn't be right. I'll face it."

CHAPTER VI.

HUMBLED INTO THE DUST.

Lyman found favor with the company, that is, with the exception of Eva McElwin, whose position demanded a certain reserve. He had sought to engage her in conversation, and she had listened as if struck with the tone of his voice, but she turned suddenly away, remembering, doubtless, that she was present as an act of condescension, and that for the time being she was the social property not of any stranger, but of her "poor kin." Lyman looked after her with a smile and a merry twinkle of mischief in his eye. He had heard it said that her complexion was of a sort that would never freckle, and he was amused at his having remembered a remark so trivial. He had looked into her eyes, had plunged into them, he fancied, for she had merely glanced up at him: and he thought of the illumined-blue that mingles in the rainbow, and he mused that he had never seen a head so fine, so gracefully poised. And then he speculated upon the petulant waste of her life. Almost divine could have been her mission; what a balm in a house of sickness and distress. He thought of the pale man whom he had seen lying near the window; he fancied himself thus doomed to lie and waste slowly away, and he pictured the delight it would be to see her enter the room, like an angel sent to soothe him with her smile. She turned toward him to listen to a worshiping cousin, and Lyman saw her lips bud into a pout, and it was almost a grief to see her so spoiled and so shallow.

"Well, I see you are getting acquainted right along," said Zeb Sawyer, speaking to Lyman. "A man doesn't have to live here long before he knows everybody. But I'm kept so busy that I haven't much time for society."

"What business are you in?" Lyman asked.

"Mules; nothing but mules. Oh, well, occasionally I handle a horse or so, but I make a specialty of buying and selling mules. Good deal of money in it, I tell you. McElwin used to do something in that line himself. Yes, sir, and he paid me a mighty high compliment the other day--he said I was about as good a judge of mules as he ever saw, and that, coming from a man as careful as he is, was mighty high praise, I tell you. h.e.l.loa, what's up?"

From the family sitting room had come a roar and a noise like the upsetting of chairs. And into the parlor rushed McElwin, followed by his wife, Staggs, Mrs. Staggs, and the white and terrified Miss Annie.

"A most d.a.m.nable outrage!" McElwin shouted, making straight for Lyman.

"I mean you, sir," he cried, shaking his fist at Lyman. "You, sir. You try to bunco me and now you conspire with an imbecile to humble me into the dust. I mean you, sir. You have married my daughter. That fool is an ordained preacher, and your sockless legislature did away with marriage licenses."

Lyman looked about and saw Miss Eva faint in her mother's arms; he saw terror in the faces about him, and his cheek felt the hot breath of Sawyer's rage. He stepped back, for the banker's hand was at his throat.

"Pardon me," he said, with a quietness that struck the company with a becalming awe. "Pardon me, but I did not know that there was any conspiracy. Is there a doctor present? If there's not, send for one to attend the young lady."

Some one ran out. McElwin stood boiling with fury. Sawyer thrust forth his hand. Lyman knocked it up. "I will not step back for you," he said. "I have committed no outrage and I am not here to be insulted and pounced upon. Mr. McElwin, you ought to have sense enough to look calmly upon this unfortunate joke." He turned, attracted by a wail from Mrs. McElwin. Again he addressed the banker, now not so furious as awkwardly embarra.s.sed. "They were playing and the young lady was to go through the marriage ceremony with the first man to enter the room, a common farce hereabouts, as you know; and I was the first man to enter. Don't blame me for a playful custom, or the action of a populist legislature."

"That may be all true, sir, but how could you presume, even in fun, to stand up with her? How is she?" he demanded, turning toward a woman who had just come from a room whither they had taken the "bride."