The Jucklins Part 20

Through old Lim's wire-like beard a smile, hard and cynical, was creeping out, and the General was fiercely struggling with himself. He had bitten his lip until his mouth was reddening with blood.

"Come, you are going home with me," he said.

"I am not!" his daughter cried, with her arms tight about Guinea. "I am not; I am going to the jail."

"Then I will take you home."

"Don't touch me!" she cried, shrinking back into a corner. "Don't touch me, for I am almost mad. What do I care for your pride? What do I care for the old graveyard? You have tried to break my heart, but I will marry him. He is worth ten thousand such men as your cold-blooded son.

Don't you touch me, father. Mr. Hawes!" she screamed, "don't let him touch me."

The old General had stepped forward as if to lay hands upon her, but he stepped back, bowed and said: "You are a lady and I am a gentleman, and these facts protect you from violence at my hands, but I here denounce you--no, I don't, my daughter. I cannot denounce my own flesh and blood.

I will leave you here to-night, hoping that when this fit of pa.s.sion is over reason will lead you home. Good-night."

CHAPTER XV.

Long we sat there in a calm, after the General left us; and the two girls, on a bench in a corner, whispered to each other. How wild had been my guessing at the character of Millie! How could one so shy, so gentle, so fond of showing her dimples, cast off all timidity and set herself in opposition to her father's authority and pride? I could but argue that she was wrong, that she had forgotten her duty, thus to stand out and violently defy him, and yet I admired her for the spirit she had shown. And I believed that Guinea was just as determined, just as pa.s.sionate. But she was wiser.

I told the old man what Alf had requested me to tell him, that he must sell his farm and go away, and he replied that he would. "I don't think, though, that I can get very much for it. Parker's land joins mine, and may be I can strike a trade with him. Of course, I don't want to live here any longer, for no matter what may come now we've got the name.

Susan, I never saw a woman behave better than you have to-night. The old stock--and I'm with the book from kiver to kiver. And now, Millie, let me say a word to you. Of course, I know exactly how you feel, and all that--how that you couldn't help yourself--but to-morrow mornin' after breakfast I would, if I was in your place, go right home and ask my father's forgiveness. I say if I was in your place, for if you do you won't have half so much to be sorry for, and in this life I hold that we're doin' our best when we do the fewest things to regret. What do you think?"

"I'm sorry I talked that way, and he's getting old, too. But I had a cause. He made me stay in the house, and he ought to remember that I am of the same blood he is and that it's awful to be humiliated. But there's one thing I'm going to do. When Alf's tried again, I'm going to tell them what Stuart said. I would have done it this time, but I was ashamed to say anything about it. I have been nearly crazy, but I'm awfully sorry that I talked that way. And, oh, suppose he were to die to-night? I never could forgive myself. I must go home now, Mr. Jucklin.

Yes, I can't stay another minute. You'll go with me, won't you, Mr.

Hawes?"

"I will gladly do so," I answered.

"And I will go, too," said Guinea.

We took a lantern, but the night was so dark that we went round by the road, rather than over the meadows. Millie said that she scarcely remembered how she had come, but she thought that she had run the most of the way. And over and over as we walked along she repeated: "I'm awfully sorry."

As we came out of the woods, where the road bent in toward the big gate, we saw a light burning in the library. Millie stopped suddenly and clutched my arm. "Suppose he won't let me come back?" she said. "I don't know in what sort of a humor I may find him. Mr. Hawes, you go on and see him first, please?"

"And I will wait out here," Guinea spoke up, and her voice trembled. "Of course, I can't go into the house after what has happened. n.o.body must know that I am here."

I left them standing in the dark, and when I stepped upon the porch I heard some one walking heavily and slowly up and down the library. On the door was a bra.s.s knocker, and when I raised it and let it fall, the foot-steps came hastily to the door. A hanging lamp was burning in the hall, and I saw that the old General himself had opened the door.

"Oh, it's you Mr. Hawes. I couldn't tell at first. My old eyes are getting flat, sir. Step into the library."

"No, I thank you. I have but a moment to stay."

"Step in, sir," he insisted, almost commanded, and I obeyed. Chyd was under a lamp, reading a sheep-skin covered book. He looked up as I entered, nodded, and then resumed his reading.

"Sit down," said the General.

"No, I thank you, for, as I say, I have but a moment to remain. Your daughter is exceedingly sorry that she acted----"

"Where is she, sir?"

"She has come with me, but fearing that your resentment----"

"What, is she out there waiting in the dark? What, my child out there waiting to know whether she can come into her father's house? I will go to her, sir. Come, Chyd, let us both go."

I stepped to the door and stood confronting the old man and his son.

"You can go, General, if you will, but your son must remain where he is."

"What, I don't understand you, sir. How dare you--what do you mean, sir?"

"Your son must not come with us. That is what I mean."

"Not go to welcome his sister home. Get out of my way, sir!"

"Wait, General. He should not go out there, for the reason that some one else, out of kindness, has accompanied your daughter and me."

"Ah, I beg your pardon," said the old man, bowing. "Chyd, stay where you are."

Millie was inside the yard, but Guinea was in the road, standing at the gate. "Come, my child!" the old man called. Millie ran to him and he took her in his arms. And he lifted her off the ground, slight creature that she was, and carried her up the steps.

Guinea took my arm and homeward we went, and not a word was spoken until we entered the dark woods.

"You saw Chyd?" she said.

"Yes, and the old gentleman wanted him to come out."

"To kneel at my feet so soon?"

"No, to welcome his sister. Are you so anxious for the time to come?"

"Yes," she answered, without hesitation.

"And is it because you love him?" I asked bitterly.

"You and I are to be the best of friends, Mr. Hawes, and you must not reproach me."

"Forgive me if I have hurt you," I said, stupidly.

"But you must not keep on wounding me merely to be forgiven. I said that he would kneel at my feet, and this may sound foolish to you, but he will. How do I know? I feel it; I don't know why, but I do. And we are to leave the old home if father can sell the land. It's better to go, but it will be still better to come back, and we will. Do you think that I am merely a simple girl without ambition? I am not; I dream."

"I know that you are a n.o.ble woman."

"Oh, don't flatter me now. It's first reproach, and then flattery. But have you thought of the real n.o.bility of some one else--yourself?"

I strove to laugh, but I know that it must have been a miserable croak.

"I have done nothing to merit that opinion," I replied.