The Unknown Wrestler Part 32

"He has been waiting, that is all," Nell's voice was low as she spoke.

Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, and a deep, rich flush was mantling her cheeks and brow. Then she lifted her head and spoke with considerable embarra.s.sment. "Yes, he has been waiting," she repeated, "waiting for something to happen. It all depended upon that."

"I know. He has been waiting to see what answer you would give to Ben.

Is that it?"

"Yes, that's it."

"And you have refused him?"

"Couldn't you tell that by what happened this afternoon?"

"Certainly. But I wished to hear it from your own lips. And so you think Stubbles will be very angry and will foreclose at once?"

"There is no doubt about it. I am sure that he will. Ben will see to that. I am afraid you do not know the Stubbles yet. They will stop at nothing, especially the men."

"I think I know something, more perhaps than you realise," and a slight smile flitted across Douglas' face. "And I believe I know now," he added, "why you met Ben by the old tree. There was so much at stake that you did not wish to offend him."

"You have guessed right. Oh, it was terrible! I felt like a hypocrite all the time, and yet I had not the courage to refuse meeting him for fear of what would happen."

"But you had the courage at last, though?"

"It was only when I could stand him no longer. I knew for some time that he was not a good man, but his actions of late have so disgusted me beyond all bounds of endurance that I refused to have anything more to do with him. There, I have told you all, and I feel greatly relieved."

"I suppose you hardly know what you will do if you lose your place. Is there not some one from whom you could borrow enough money to pay off the mortgage?"

"I am afraid not. We have no security to give, and, besides, I dread the thought of asking for help. Father will be almost heartbroken, and it will make him more bitter than ever."

"At what?"

"The Church and all connected with it. Mr. Stubbles has been a warden here for years, and the way he has acted has been partly the cause of father's bitter feelings. Now he will be worse than ever. I wonder what the new clergyman will be like."

"Perhaps he may be able to settle matters."

"I am afraid not. He will have to do as the Stubbles say or leave, just as the others did. If he should happen to be a very strong-minded man and will stand up for justice and right, he will have a most difficult time of it. In that case, father would be his firm friend, though I fear he could do but little to help him."

"His moral a.s.sistance would mean much, though, would it not?"

"Perhaps so," and Nell sighed. "But I think I must go home now.

Father and Nan will be wondering what has kept me. Won't you come and see father? I know he wants to talk to you about his book. I am thankful he has something to occupy his mind."

CHAPTER XXI

OUTDONE

When they reached the house, they found Nan up in arms. She scolded Nell for being away so long and leaving her to get supper and wash the dishes.

"I don't think it is fair," she pouted. "You go off and have a good time, while I must stay home and drudge like a slave."

"You do not look any the worse for it," Douglas laughingly told her.

"It seems to agree with you. I never saw you look better."

"H'm," and Nan tossed her head. "It may agree with my complexion but not with my temper. The only way you can make me good natured is to have a game of checkers with me. I am just dying for a game. No one here will play with me. It's too giddy, I suppose. I'm sure it's much nicer than Shakespeare--he's too dry. Why, I've been reading to daddy for the last hour, and I can't remember one word."

The professor was most anxious to discuss his book, but Nan insisted on checkers first.

"I have a right to my own way for once," she insisted. "You promised me long ago that I could have Mr. Handyman to myself the next time he came. But, no, it was Shakespeare and Church matters, and so I was pushed aside."

They all laughed heartily at her words and gestures, and the professor at last agreed that they should play two games. Then he had something important to say.

With Nan's animated face beaming over the board, and Nell sitting quietly sewing by the table, it was a most enjoyable evening to Douglas. But the professor was not so happy. The minutes dragged heavily, so when the players had won a game each, he gave a sigh of relief and claimed Douglas' special attention.

"I wish to discuss several points in the tragedy of Hamlet," he began.

"I am not altogether sure in my own mind, and would like to have your opinion."

Though Douglas had studied Hamlet at college, yet he felt very diffident about discussing the "several points," which he felt sure would be difficult ones. But as the professor began to talk, he knew that his opinion would not be necessary. Once launched upon his subject, the old man seemed to imagine that he was once more in the cla.s.s room. Several times he asked Nell to read certain extracts from his notes, and upon these he always enlarged. It was pathetic to observe his intense eagerness, and he was certain that his visitor was keenly interested in his subject.

It was well for him that he could not see into the hearts and minds of the others in the room. Nan was lost in a story book she had borrowed from a girl friend that very afternoon; while Nell's thoughts were not upon the wonders of Shakespeare, but upon the events of the day.

Douglas tried to pay strict attention to what was being said, though his eyes would often wander to the young woman sewing just in front of him. He noted the varying expressions upon her face, and he intuitively surmised something of what she was thinking. How he longed to be talking with her and listening to her as it had been his privilege that afternoon. Could she ever care for him? he asked himself just at the very instant when the professor was waxing eloquent about Shakespeare as an artist. He tried to listen, but the force of the words of wisdom were lost upon him. The professor, however, was pleased, and as Douglas rose to go he told him how delightful had been their conversation, and that the several points which had been troubling him were quite clear.

Douglas' heart was happy and his step light and elastic as he left the house. He thought over what Nell had told him, and her confidence in him gave him great joy. He valued this far more than the explanation she had volunteered about her family affairs. She trusted him and turned to him for sympathy. Little wonder, then, that his face glowed and his eyes shone with rapture. It was all a new experience to him, and life seemed very pleasant.

He was roused from this reverie by the sound of angry voices. He stopped and listened intently. They were evidently men, quarrelling on the road ahead of him, though he could not distinguish what they were saying. The fact that they were talking so loudly made him feel that they were not there with any evil designs. Nevertheless, he felt that it was just as well to find out what was the trouble, and at the same time remain out of sight.

Along the road ran a hedge of thick bushes, and, keeping well within the dark fringe of these, Douglas slowly advanced. He could hear the talking more plainly now, and ere long he was able to tell that the men were under the influence of liquor. Their voices were maudlin, and they were wrangling with one another in a somewhat petulant and childish manner.

"I tell ye he is," he heard one say.

"He ain't," another retorted.

"Yes, he is, ye blame fool."

"He ain't."

"Shet up ye'r jawin'," a third ordered. "Ye'r both drunk. Sure he's there. Wasn't he seen goin' into the house?"

"Well, I'll be darned if I'm goin' to wait any longer," the first speaker whined. "I'm tired an' sleepy, an' want to go home. I wish to G-- that Ben would do his own dirty work."

"Ye liked his whiskey well enough, didn't ye?" his companion asked.

"Oh, yes, that's all right, but there wasn't enough of it."

"Too much fer you, though. Why, it's gone to ye'r head, an' has made yer tongue like a mill-clapper. Ye'd better shet ye'r mouth or the guy'll hear ye an' take to his heels before we kin lay hands on him."

"I ain't talkin' any, am I? Watcher growlin' 'bout? I'm goin' home."