CHAPTER XIV
The confidence which Gordon had reposed in James seemed for a time tohave given him a measure of relief. While he never for an instantappeared like his old self, while the games of euchre at Georgie K.'swere not resumed, nor the boyish enjoyment of things, which James nowrecognized to have been simply feverish attempts to live through thehorrible ordeal of his life and keep his sanity, while he had nowsettled down into a state of austere gloom, yet he begun again to attendto his practice and to take interest in it. Clemency remained away for aweek. Then Gordon brought her home. She was at the dinner-table thatnight when James returned rather late from a call on a far-off patient.She simply said, "Good evening! Doctor Elliot," as if he had been themerest acquaintance, and went on to serve his soup. James gave her abewildered, half-grieved, half-angered look, which she seemed not tonotice. Immediately after dinner she went to her own room. James,smoking with Gordon in the office, heard her go upstairs. Gordon noddedat James through the cloud of smoke.
"She has taken a notion, my son," he said. "She told me on the way homethat she wished to break the engagement with you. She would give noreason. She wished me to tell you. I don't take her seriously. She caresas much for you as ever. Girls are queer cattle. She has some utterlyunimaginable idea in her head, which will run itself out. If I were youI would pay no attention to it. Simply take her at her word, and let heralone for a little while, and she herself will urge you for areconciliation. I know the child. She simply cannot remain at odds forany length of time with any one whom she loves, and she does love you;but she is freakish, and at times inclined to strain at her bit. PerhapsAnnie Lipton has been putting ideas into her head against marriage ingeneral. She may have frightened her, and they may have sworn celibacytogether in the watches of the night. Girls hatch more mischief whenthey ought to be asleep. They are queer cattle."
"The trouble began before Clemency went away," James said soberly. Hewas quite pale.
"Trouble? What trouble?"
"I don't know. All I know is, that the very day when Clemency went awayshe seemed changed to me. You remember how she called out good-by, and Idid not go out to help her off as I should naturally have done."
"Yes, I do remember that, and I did wonder at your not going."
"I did not go because I was quite sure that she did not wish it. She hadbeen very curt with me, and had shown me unmistakably that my attentionswere not welcome."
"And you don't know why? There had been no quarrel?"
"Not the slightest. I have not the faintest idea what the trouble is orwas, and why she wishes to break the engagement. All I know is that assuddenly as a weather vane turns from west to north, she turned, andseemed to have no more use for me."
"Queer," Gordon said reflectively. He eyed James keenly. "You absolutelyknow of no reason?"
"I absolutely know of none. Clemency is the very first girl about whom Ihave ever thought in this way. There is nothing in my whole life, pastor present, which I could not spread before her like an open book, sofar as any fear lest it should turn her against me."
"I questioned her," Gordon said, "and she absolutely refused to give meany reason for breaking her engagement. She simply repeated over andover, 'I have changed my mind, Uncle Tom.' I asked her if she had seenanybody else."
James flushed hotly. "What did she say to that?"
"She said, 'Whom could I have seen, Uncle Tom? You yourself know howmany men I have seen here, and you know I never see men at Annie's.'There is no one else. You may be sure of that, and also sure that shestill cares for you. I know that from her whole manner. She has simplytaken one of those unaccountable freaks which the best of girls willtake. Just let her alone, and the whole will right itself. She may havegot a sudden scare at the idea of marriage itself, for all I know. Istill cling to the idea that Annie Lipton has been putting ideas intoher head, in spite of what you say of her coldness before she wentthere. She may have started herself in the path, but Annie helped herfurther on."
"Of course I must leave here," James said gloomily.
Gordon started. "Leave here?"
"Yes, of course. Clemency will naturally not wish to have me a member ofthe household in the existing state of things."
"Clemency will wish it. Of course you are going to stay, Elliot."
"I don't feel as if I could, Doctor Gordon."
"Nonsense!"
"It will naturally not be very pleasant for me," James said, coloring.
"Why not?" asked Gordon irritably. "You are not a love-sick girl."
"No, I am not," James returned with spirit. "I know I am jilted, but Imean to take, and I think I am taking it, like a man. If Clemency doesnot want me, I am sure I do not want her to have me. And I can standseeing her daily under the altered condition of things. I am nomilk-sop. Generally speaking, living under a roof when you are an objectof aversion to a member of the household, is not exactly pleasant."
"You are not an object of aversion."
"I might as well be."
Gordon looked at the young man pitifully. "For God's sake, then don'tleave _me_, Elliot," he said.
James stared at him. There was so much emotion in his face.
"What do you think my life would be without you?" said Gordon. "Asidefrom your assistance, which I cannot do without, you are my only solace,especially since Clemency is in this mood. Stay for my sake, if it isunpleasant, Elliot."
"Well, I will stay, if you feel so about it, doctor," James replied.
"Clemency is treating you shamefully," Gordon said.
"A girl has a right to her own mind in such a matter, if she has inanything."
"The worst of it is, it is not her mind. I tell you I know that."
"I am not so sure."
"Wait and see! You underestimate yourself, boy."
James laughed sadly. Then there was a knock on the office door andGeorgie K. appeared. He looked shyly at Gordon. He had a bottle underhis arm. "I have brought over a little apple-jack; thought it might doyou good," he stammered, his great face suffused like a girl's.
Gordon looked affectionately at him. "Thank you, Georgie K.," he said."Sit down and we will have a game. I'll get the hot water and glasses.Emma is out."
"I'll get them," James said eagerly. He went out to the kitchen, butEmma was not out. She was sitting sewing in a gingham apron.
"What do you want?" she demanded severely.
James explained meekly.
"Well, go back to the office, and I'll fetch the things," Emma said in ahostile tone. James obeyed. Presently Emma appeared bearing a tray withthe hot water and two glasses, Gordon did not notice the omission of athird glass, until she had gone out. "Why, she only brought twoglasses," he said.
James felt absurdly unequal to facing Emma again. "I don't think I'lltake anything to-night," he said.
"Nonsense!" returned Gordon. He went to the door and shouted for Emmawith no response. "She can't have gone upstairs so quickly," he said.But when after another shout he got no response, he went himself intothe dining-room, and got a tumbler from the sideboard. "She must havegone upstairs at once," he remarked when he returned. "The kitchen isdark."
Georgie K. did not remain very late. He seemed nervously solicitouswith regard to Doctor Gordon. When he left he shook hands with him, andbade him take good care of himself.
"I love that man," Gordon said, when the door had closed behind him.
When James entered his room that night he found fresh proof of Emma'sinexplicable hostility. The room was in total darkness. He lit matchesand searched for lamp or candles, to find none. He fumbled his way outinto the kitchen, and got a little lamp, which gave but a dim light, andread, as was his habit, after he had gone to bed, with exceedingdifficulty. He also was subjected to a most absurd annoyance from thepresence of some gritty particles in the bed. After he extinguished hislamp he could not go to sleep because of them, and lit his lamp again,and tore the sheet off and shook it. The gritty particles seemed to himto be crumbs of very hard and d
ry bread. He made the bed up again afterhis clumsy masculine fashion. James had not much manual dexterity, andrested very uncomfortably, from a pronounced inclination of thecoverings to slide off his feet, and over one side of the bed.
The next morning Emma did not bring hot water for his shaving. Sheusually set a pitcher outside his door, but this morning there was none.He was obliged to go out to the kitchen and prefer a request for some."I have jest filled up the coffee-pot and the tea-kettle, and I guessthe water ain't very hot," Emma said in a malicious tone, as she filleda pitcher for him.
The water was not very hot. James had a severe experience shaving, andhis annoyances were not over then. There was no napkin beside his plateat breakfast. He did not like to apply to Clemency, whose cold goodmorning had served to establish a higher barrier between them, and whosat behind the coffee urn with a forlorn but none the less severe look.He also did not like to apply to Gordon for fear of offending her. Itwas about as bad to ask Emma, but he finally did, in a low tone.
Emma apparently did not hear. He was forced to repeat his request for anapkin loudly. Gordon looked up. "Emma, why do you not set the tableproperly?" he asked, in a severe tone.
Emma tossed her head and muttered. She brought a napkin, and laid itbeside James's plate with an impetus as if it had been a lump of lead.Presently James discovered that he had only one spoon, but he made thatdo duty for his cereal and coffee, and said nothing. He was aware ofEmma's eyes of covert, malicious enjoyment upon him, as hesurreptitiously licked off the oatmeal, and put the spoon in his coffee.He began to wonder what he could do, if this state of things was tocontinue. It all seemed so absurd, the grievances were so exceedinglypetty. He could not imagine what had so turned Emma against him. He waseven more at a loss where she was concerned than in Clemency's case. Agirl engaged might find some foolish reason, which seemed enormous toher, to turn the cold shoulder to him, but it was inconceivable thatEmma should. He had always treated her politely, even with a certaindeference, knowing, as he did, that she was an old and faithful servant,and as the daughter of a farmer being, in her own estimation at least,of a highly superior station to that of servants in general. He couldnot imagine why Emma was subjecting him to these ridiculouspersecutions, before which he was almost helpless. She had heretoforetreated him loftily, as was her wont with everybody, except Gordon andClemency, but certainly she had neglected none of her duties withregard to him. Miserable as James was concerning Clemency, he could notbut feel that if he were to be subjected to these incomprehensibleannoyances from Emma, life in the house would be almost impossible. Hecould bear sorrow like a man, but to bear pinpricks beside was almosttoo much to ask. That noon, when he returned from his rounds, herealized that there was to be no cessation. Clemency was not at thelunch-table. Gordon said she had a headache and was lying down. Emma inpassing James his cup of tea, contrived to spill it over him. He was notscalded, but his shirt-front and collar were stained, therebynecessitating a change, and he was in a hurry to be gone directly afterlunch.
Gordon roused himself, however. "Be more careful another time, Emma," hesaid sharply.
Emma tossed her head. "Doctor Elliot moved jest as I was coming with thecup," she said in a thin, waspish voice.
"He did no such thing," Gordon said harshly, "and if he had, it was yourbusiness to be careful. Get Doctor Elliot another cup of tea."
Emma obeyed with a jerk. She set the cup and saucer down beside James'splate as hard as she dared, and James at the first sip found that thetea was salted. However, he said nothing. Gordon after his outburst hadresumed his former state of apathy, and was eating and drinking like amachine, whose works were rusty and almost run down. He could nottrouble him with such an absurdity. Then, too, he was too vexed toplease the girl so much. He forced himself to drink the tea without agrimace, knowing that Emma's eyes were upon him. But the climax wasalmost reached. That night when on his return he wished to change hiscollar before dinner, he found every one with the buttonholes torn. Itwas skilfully done, so skilfully that no one could have declaredpositively that it had not been done accidentally in the laundry. Jameswould not appear at the dinner-table in a soiled collar, and was forcedto hurry out to the village store and purchase new ones. These, with theexception of the one he put on, he locked in his trunk. He was late fordinner, and the soup was quite cold. When Doctor Gordon complainedirritably, Emma replied with one of her characteristic tosses of thehead that she couldn't help it, Doctor Elliot was late. James saidnothing. He swallowed his luke-warm soup in silence. He began to wonderwhat he could do. He did not wish to complain to Doctor Gordon,especially as the result might be the dismissal of Emma, and he feltthat he could say nothing to Clemency about it. Clemency appeared at thedinner-table, but she looked pale and forlorn, and said good evening toJames without lifting her eyes. When her uncle asked if her head wasbetter, she said, "Yes, thank you," in a spiritless tone. She ate almostnothing. After dinner, James had a call to make, and, on his return,entered by the office door. He found Gordon fast asleep in his chair,with the dog at his feet. The dog started up at sight of James, but hemotioned him down, and went softly out into the hall. There was a lightthere, but none in the parlor. James heard distinctly a little sob fromthe parlor. He hesitated a moment, then he entered the room. It wassuffused with moonlight. All the pale objects stood out like ghosts.Clemency by the window, in a little white wool house-gown, looked,ghostly.
James went straight across to her, pulled up a chair beside her, seatedhimself, and pulled one of her little hands away from her face almostroughly, and held it firmly in spite of her weak attempt to remove it."Now, Clemency," he said in a determined voice, "this has gone quite farenough. You told your uncle that you wished to break your engagement tome. I have no wish to coerce you. If you really do not want to marry me,why, I must make the best of it, but I have a right to know the reasonwhy, and I will know it."
Clemency was silent, except for her sobs.
"Tell me," said James.
"Don't," whispered Clemency.
"Tell me."
Then Clemency let her other hand, which contained a moist little ball ofhandkerchief, fall. She turned full upon him her tearful, swollen face."If you want to know what you know already," said she, in a hard voice,"here it is. She wasn't my mother, but I loved her like one, and youkilled her."