CHAPTER XX
BETWEEN THE ELDERBERRY BUSHES
"No."
The word came from Ransom. He had reached the end of his patience and wasdetermined to have it out with this man on the spot.
"Come into my room," said he. "If you doubt her, you doubt me; and in thepresent stress of my affairs this demands an immediate explanation."
"I have no time to enter your room, and I cannot linger here any longertalking on a subject which at the present moment is not clear to eitherof us," was the resolute if not quite affable reply. "Later, when myconclusions are made, I will see you again. Now I am going to eat andrefresh myself. Don't follow me; it will do you no good."
He turned to descend. Ransom had an impulse to seize him by his twistedthroat and drag from him the secret which his impassive features refusedto give up. But Ransom was no fool and, stepping back out of the way oftemptation, he allowed him to escape without further parley.
Then he went to his room. But, after an hour or two spent with his ownthoughts, his restlessness became so great that he sought the gossipsbelow for relief. He found them all clustered about Hazen, who wasreeling off stories by the mile. This was unendurable to him and he wasstriding off, when Hazen burst away from his listeners and, joiningRansom, whispered in his ear:
"I saw her go by the window just now on her way up-street. What can shefind there to interest her? Where is she going?"
"I don't know. She doesn't consult me as to her movements. Probably shehas gone for a walk. She looks as if she needs it."
"So do you," was the unexpected retort given by Hazen, as he stepped backto rejoin his associates.
Ransom paused, watching him askance in doubt of the suggestion, in doubtof the man, in doubt of himself. Then he yielded to an impulse strongerthan any doubt and slipped out into the highway, where he turned, as shehad turned, up-street.
But not without a struggle. He hated himself for his puppet-likeacceptance of the hint given him by a man he both distrusted anddisliked. He felt his dignity impaired and his self-confidence shaken,yet he went on, following the high road eagerly and watching with waryeye for the first glimpse of the slight figure which was beginning tomake every scene alive to him.
It had rained heavily and persistently the last time he came this way,but to-day the sun was shining with a full radiance, and the treesstretching away on either side of the road were green with the tendertracery of early leafage; a joy-compelling sight which may have accountedfor the elasticity of his step as he ascended one small hill afteranother in the wake of a fluttering skirt.
It was the cemetery road, and odd as the fancy was, he felt that heshould overtake her at the old gate, behind which lay so many of hername. Here he had seen her name before its erasement from the familymonument, and here he should see--could he say Anitra if he found herbending over those graves; the woman who could not hear, who could notread,--whose childish memory, if she had any in connection with thisspot, could not be distinct enough or sufficiently intelligent to guideher to this one plot? No. Human credulity can go far, but not so far asthat. He knew that all his old doubts would return if, on entering thecemetery, he found her under the brown shaft carved with the name ofHazen.
The test was one he had not sought and did not welcome. Yet he feltbound, now that he recognized it as such, to see it through and acceptits teaching for what it surely would be worth. Only he began to movewith more precaution and studied more to hide his approach than to giveany warning of it.
The close ranks of the elderberry bushes lining the fences on the finalhill-top lent themselves to the concealment he now sought. As soon as hewas sure of her having left the road he drew up close to these bushes andwalked under them till he was almost at the gate. Then he allowed himselfto peer through their close branches and received an unexpected shock atseeing her figure standing very near him, posed in an uncertainty which,for some reason, he had not expected, but which restored him to himself,though why he had not the courage, the time, nor the inclination to ask.
She was babbling in a low tone to herself, an open sesame to her mind,which Ransom hailed with a sense of awe. If only he might distinguish thewords! But this was difficult; not only was her head turned partly away,but she spoke in a murmur which was far from distinct. Yet--yes, that onesentence was plain enough. She had muttered musingly, anxiously, and witha searching look among the graves:
"It was on this side. I know it was on this side."
Watching her closely lest some chance glance of hers should stray hisway, he listened still more intently and was presently rewarded bycatching another sentence.
"A single grave all by itself. I fell over it and my mother scolded me,saying it was my father's. There was a bush near it. A bush with whiteflowers on it. I tried to pick some."
Ransom's heart was growing lighter and lighter. She did not even knowthat there had been placed over that grave a monument with her name on itand that of the mother who had scolded her for tripping over her father'ssod. Only Anitra could be so ignorant or expect to find a grave by meansof a bush blooming with flowers fifteen years ago. As she went wanderingon, peering to right and left, he thought of Hazen and his doubts, andwished that he were here beside him to mark her perplexity.
When quite satisfied that she would never find what she sought withouthelp, Ransom stepped from his hiding-place and joined her among thegrassy hillocks. The start of pleasure she gave and her almost childishlook of relief warmed his heart, and it was with a smile he waited forher to speak.
"My father's grave!" she explained. "I was looking for my father's grave.I remember my mother taking me to it when I was little. There was a bushclose by it--oh! I see what you think. The bush would be big now--Iforgot that. And something else! You are thinking of something else. Oh,I know, I know. He wouldn't be lying alone any more. My mother must havedied, or sister would have taken me to her. There ought to be twograves."
He nodded, and taking her by the hand led her to the family monument. Shegazed at it for a moment, amazed, then laid her finger on one of theinscriptions.
"My father's name?" she asked.
He nodded.
She hung her head thoughtfully for a moment, then slipping to the otherside of the stone laid her hand on another.
"My mother's?"
Again he signified yes.
"And this? Is this sister's name? No, she's not buried yet. I had abrother. Is it his?"
Ransom bowed. How tell her that it was a false inscription and that theman whose death it commemorated was not only alive but had only a littlewhile before spoken to her.
"I didn't like my brother. He was cruel and liked to hurt people. I'mglad he's dead."
Ransom drew her away. Her frankness was that of a child, but it producedan uncomfortable feeling. He didn't like this brother either, and in thisthoughtless estimate of hers he seemed to read a warning to which his ownnature intuitively responded.
"Come!" he motioned, leading the way out.
She followed with a smile, and together they entered the highway. As theydid so, Ransom caught sight of a man speeding down the hill before themon a bicycle. He had not come front the upper road, or they would haveseen him as he flew past the gateway. Where had he come from, then? Fromthe peep-hole where Ransom himself had stood a few minutes before. Noother conclusion was possible, and Ransom felt both angry and anxioustill he could find out who the man was. This he did not succeed in doingtill he reached the hotel. There a bicycle leaning against a tree gavepoint to his questions, and he learned that it belonged to a clerk in oneof the small stores near by, but that the man who had just ridden it upand down the road on a trial of speed was the stranger who had just cometo town with Mr. Hazen.