CHAPTER XII.
TWO MISTAKES.
At the singing-school and at the church August waited as impatiently aspossible for some sign of recognition from Julia. He little knew thefear that beset her. Having seen her hysterical mother prostrated forweeks by the excitement of a dispute with her father, it seemed to herthat if she turned one look of love and longing toward young Wehle,whose sweet German voice rang out above the rest in the hymns, she mightkill her mother as quickly as by plunging a knife into her heart. Thesteam-doctor, who was the family physician, had warned her and herfather separately of the danger of exciting Mrs. Anderson's mostexcitable temper, and now Julia was the slave of her mother's disease.That lucky hysteria, which the steam-doctor thought a fearfulheart-disease, had given Mrs. Abigail the whip-hand of husband anddaughter, and she was not slow to know her advantage, using her heart ina most heartless way.
August could not blame Julia for not writing, for he had tried to breakthe blockade by a letter sent through Jonas and Cynthy Ann, but thelatter had found herself so well watched that the note oppressed herconscience and gave a hangdog look to her face for two weeks before shegot it out of her pocket, and then she put it under the pillow ofJulia's bed, and had reason to believe that the suspicious Mrs. Andersonconfiscated it within five minutes. For the severity of maternalgovernment was visibly increased thereafter, and Julia received manyreminders of her ingratitude and of her determination to kill herself-sacrificing mother by her stubbornness.
"Well," Mrs. Anderson would say, "it's all one to me whether the worldcomes to an end or not. I should like to live to see the day ofjudgment. But I shan't. No affectionate mother can stand such treatmentas I receive from my own daughter. If Norman was only at home!"
It is proper to explain here that Norman was her son, in whom she took agreat deal of comfort when he was away, and whom she would have utterlyspoiled by indulgence if he had not been born past spoiling. He was theonly person to whom she was indulgent, and she was indulgent to himchiefly because he was so weak of will that there was not much glory inconquering him, and because her indulgence to him was a rod ofaffliction to the rest of her family.
Failing to open communication through Jonas and Cynthy Ann, August foundhimself in a desperate strait, and with an impatience common to youngmen he unhappily had recourse to Betsey Malcolm. She often visitedJulia, and twice, when Julia was not at meeting, he went home with theingenuous Betsey, who always pretended to have something to tell him"about Jule," and who yet, for the pure love of mischief-making, triedto make him think as poorly as possible of Julia's sincerity, and who,from pure love of flirtation, puckered her red lips, and flashed at himwith her sensuous eyes, and sighed and blushed, or rather flushed, whileshe sympathized with him in a way that might have been perilous if hehad been an American instead of a constant-hearted "Dutchman," whollyabsorbed with the image of Julia. But, so far as carrying messages wasconcerned, Betsey was certainly a non-conductor. She professed never tobe able to run the blockade with any communication of his. She said toherself that she wasn't going to help Jule Anderson to keep _all_ thebeaus. She meant to capture one or the other of them if she could. And,indeed, she did not dream how grievous was the wrong she did. For shecould appreciate no other feeling in the matter than vanity, and shecould not see any particular harm in "taking Jule Anderson down a peg."And so she assured the anxious and already suspicious August that if shewas in his place she should want that singing-master out of the way."Some girls can't stand people that wear jewelry and mustaches andstraps and such things. And Mr. Humphreys is very careful of her, won'tlet her sit too late on the porch, and is very comforting in his way oftalking to her. And she seems to like it. I tell you what it is, Gus"--and she looked at him so bewitchingly that the pure and sensitiveAugust blushed, he could hardly tell why--"I tell you Jule's a nicegirl, and got a nice property back of her, and I hope she won't act likeher mother. And, indeed, I can't hardly believe she will, though the wayshe eyes that Humphreys makes me mad." She had suggested the old doubt.A doubt is dangerous when its face grows familiar, and one recognizesthe "Monsieur Tonson come again."
And all the message the disinterested and benevolent Betsey bore toJulia was to tell her exultingly that Gus had twice walked home withher. And they had had such a nice time! And Julia, girl that she was,declared indignantly that she didn't care whom he went with; though shedid care, and her eyes and face said so. Thus the tongue sometimeslies--or seems to lie--when the whole person is telling the truth. Theonly excuse for the tongue is that it will not be believed, and it knowsthat it will not be believed! It only speaks diplomatically, maybe. Butdiplomatic talking is bad. Better the truth. If Jule had known that herwords would be reported to August, she would have bitten out her tonguerather than to have let it utter words that were only the cry of herwounded pride. Of course Betsey met August in the road the next morning,in a quiet hollow by the brook, and told him, sympathizingly, almostaffectionately, that she had begun to talk to Julia about him, and thatJule had said she didn't care. So while Julia uttered a lie she spokethe truth, and while. Betsey uttered the truth she spoke a lie, willful,malicious, and wicked.
Now, in the mean time, Julia, on her side, had tried to opencommunication through the only channel that offered itself. She did notattempt it by means of Betsey, because, being a woman, she feltinstinctively that Betsey was not to be trusted. But there was only oneother to whom she was allowed to speak, except under a supervision ascomplete as it was unacknowledged. That other was Mr. Humphreys. Heevinced a constant interest in her affairs, avowing that he always didhave a romantic desire to effect the union of suitable people, eventhough it might pain his heart a little to see another more fortunatethan himself. Julia had given up all hope of communicating by letter,and she could not bring herself to make any confessions to a man who hadsuch a smile and such eyes, but to a generous proposition of Mr.Humphreys that he should see August and open the way for anycommunication between them, she consented, scarcely concealing hereagerness.
August was not in a mood to receive Humphreys kindly. He hated him byintuition, and a liking for him had not been begotten by Betsey'sassurances that he was making headway with Julia. August was ridingastride a bag of corn on his way to mill, when Humphreys, taking awalk, met him.
"A pleasant day, Mr. Wehle!"
"Yes," said August, with a courtesy as mechanical as Humphreys's smile.
The singing-master was rather pleased than otherwise to see that Augustdisliked him. It suited his purpose, just now to gall Wehle into sayingwhat he would not otherwise have said.
"I hear you are in trouble," he proceeded.
"How so?"
"Oh! I hear that Mrs. Anderson doesn't like Dutchmen." The smile nowseemed to have something of a sneer in it.
"I don't know that that is your affair," said August, all hissuspicions, by a sort of "resolution of force," changing into anger.
"Oh! I beg pardon," with a tone half-mocking. "I did not know but Imight help settle matters. I think I have Mrs. Anderson's confidence;and I know that I have Miss Anderson's confidence in an unusual degree.I think a great deal of her. And she thinks me _her friend_ at least. Ithought that there might be some little matters yet unsettled betweenyou two, and she suggested that maybe there might be something you wouldlike to say, and that if you would say it to me, it would be all thesame as if it were said to her. She considers that in the relation Ibear to her and the family, a message delivered to me is the same ineffect as if given to her. I told her I did not think you would, as agentleman, wish to hold her to any promises that might be irksome toher now."
These words were spoken with a coolness and maliciousness of good-naturequite devilish, and August's fist involuntarily doubled itself to strikehim, if only to make him cease smiling in that villainous rectangularway. But he checked himself.
"You are a puppy. Tell _that_ to Jule, if you choose. I shall send her arelease from all obligations, but not by the hand of a rascal!"
Li
ke all desperadoes, Humphreys was a coward. He could shoot, but hecould not fight, and just now he was affecting the pious or at least thehigh moral role, and had left his pistols, brandy-flasks, and the othernecessary appurtenances of a gentleman, locked in his trunk. Besides itwould not at all have suited his purpose to shoot. So in lieu ofshooting he only smiled, as August rode off, that same old geometricsmile, the elements of which were all calculated. He seemed incapable ofany other facial contortion. It expressed one emotion, indeed, about aswell as another, and was therefore as convenient as those pocket-kniveswhich affect to contain a chest of tools in one.
"TELL THAT TO JULE."]
Julia was already stung to jealousy by Betsey Malcolm'smischief-making, and it did not require much more to put her into afrenzy. As they walked home from meeting the next night--they hadmeeting all nights now, the world would soon end and there was so muchto be done--as they walked home Humphreys contrived to separate Juliafrom the rest, and to tell her that he had had a conversation withyoung Wehle.
"It was painful, very painful," he said, "I think I had better not sayany more about it."
"Why?" asked Julia in terror.
"Well, I feel that your grief is mine. I have never felt so muchinterest in any one before, and I must say that I was grievouslydisappointed. This young man is not at all worthy of you."
"What do you mean?" And there was a trace of indignation in her tone.
"It does seem to me that the man who has your love should be thehappiest in the world; but he refused to send you any message, and saysthat he will soon send you an entire release from all engagement to him.He showed no tenderness and made no inquiry."
The weakest woman and the strongest can faint. It is a woman's lastresort. When all else is gone, that remains. Julia drew a sharp quickbreath, and was just about to become unconscious. Humphreys stretchedhis arms to catch her, but the sudden recollection that in case shefainted he would carry her into the house, produced a reaction. Shereleased herself from his grasp, and hurried in alone, locking her door,and refusing admittance to her mother. From Humphreys, who had puthimself into a delicate minor key, Mrs. Anderson got such an account ofthe conversation as he thought best to give. She then opened and read anote placed into her hand by a neighbor as she came out from meeting. Itwas addressed to Julia, and ran:
"If all they say is true, you have quickly changed. I do not hold you byany promises you wish to break.
"AUGUST WEHLE."
Mrs. Anderson had no pity. She hesitated not an instant. Julia's doorwas fast. But she went out upon the front upper porch, and pushing upthe window of her daughter's room as remorselessly as she had committedthe burglary on her private letter, she looked at her a moment, sobbingon the bed, and then threw the letter into the room, saying: "It's goodfor you. Read that, and see what a fellow your Dutchman is."
Then Mrs. Anderson sought her couch, and slept with a serene sense, ofhaving done _her_ duty as a mother, whatever might be the result.