Miss Dexie. Stanford Eveleth
before last night I never knew why it was that I liked to spend all the time I could with you. I thought it was on account of our music, but as I walked through the storm last night the truth came to me. I love you, Dexie, and that is why my heart kept me up till I found help. I was almost wild with fear that something would happen to you before I could get you safely sheltered. Yes, darling, I love you; and the thought has made me feel so light of heart that I could sing all the time for very joy."
"Oh, Lancy! how can you talk so. You have spoiled all our good times together, for I'll never come in here again when I know you are home," and she turned her face away from his earnest gaze.
"Oh, yes, you will; you will not be so unkind as that. If you refuse to come in here I will go into your house just twice as often; so you can't get rid of me, Dexie," was the smiling reply.
There was a moment's silence, when Dexie said: "It will be a pity for us to quarrel, Lancy, but you must not talk to me like this any more. Really, I did not think you could be so silly. Think how they would all tease us if anyone should find us here; and you know Gussie would make my life a misery if she guessed you had been talking such nonsense."
"It is not 'nonsense' to tell you that I love you, but my love shall not be a source of annoyance to you; no one need know it. Everything will be as usual, only, Dexie, you will know that I love you, and I will know—well, what, Dexie? You do not dislike me any more than you did two days ago, do you?" he whispered.
"I have not changed in the least, but I shall dislike you very much, Lancy, if you do not try and forget what has been said here this evening."
"I cannot forget it even if I wanted to, Dexie. Do not think that I want to vex you, dear, but I want you to understand me. Now, there is only one thing more, Dexie," and his voice grew tender; "that kiss you gave me last night in the sleigh seems to be resting on my lips yet, and has been a sweet memory all day long. But, Dexie," and he laughed softly, "you know it was a very cold kiss, after all. Give me a warm one to take its place, and I'll let you go."
Dexie shook her head and tried to draw back from him. She felt so distressed that the tears were on the point of falling. She had gone through so much during the last few hours, and this unexpected interview tried her more than Lancy was aware.
"Only one kiss," he urged. "You gave it willingly last night, darling."
"But things are not the same as they were last night."
"No, I love you better, Dexie. May I?" But without waiting for permission he kissed the face so near him, and found it wet with tears.
"Dexie, darling, I did not think you would care so much. Forgive me if I vexed you; you kissed me last night without a word."
"But you are not the same, and there was a reason last night. It is not fair, Lancy. You have quite spoiled our good times for the future."
"No, not spoiled them, only made them dearer. Dexie, you shan't be vexed with me. Come over on the sofa and let me talk to you."
"No; you said you would let me go home, and I want to go now, this very minute."
"Very well." He rose and pulled her shawl over her shoulders, then followed her silently into the shelter of her own door. He would have followed her into the house as well, forgetting that Dexie's face would tell tales, but she stopped him at the door.
"I don't want to see you any more to-night, Lancy; I really don't," she said, as they stood a moment in the front hall.
"You are displeased with me for telling you that I love you. Perhaps I should have waited a little longer before speaking about it; but, Dexie, I couldn't keep it to myself. I had to tell you."
"I would not have been any more pleased to hear it, even if you had kept it longer;" and, lifting her eyes to his face for a moment, added, "I am not exactly vexed with you, Lancy, but I'm not pleased either. Now, go home; do." Being thus summarily dismissed, there was no choice left him; but before he turned to obey her command, he raised her hand to his lips, and whispered a tender "Good-night, Dexie."
She stood and watched him down the steps, then turned and went quickly to her own room, and locking the door behind her threw herself face down on the bed, and for a few minutes wept without restraint. She felt completely unnerved; so much had happened during the last twenty-four hours that had tried her strength and courage, that Lancy's declaration had filled up the measure of her strength.
But her thoughts, always rapid, soon worked out a semblance of order from the confusion that filled her mind, and she dried her eyes and began to review her conduct in the light that others probably judged her.
She would not deny, even to herself, that she preferred Lancy's company to that of any of her male friends; but they were both so young that it was ridiculous to even imagine that their intimacy meant more than common friendship. However, if Lancy chose to be silly, that was no reason that she should become sentimental also. She was not obliged to fall in love just because Lancy fancied himself in that condition. It would be horrid not to see him or sing with him again when their voices chorded so well together; and Lancy never misunderstood her, if everyone else did. Yes, it would be very hard not to be friendly with him; but, there! surely one can be friendly with a gentleman without being expected to fall in love with him, and she felt positive that if there were a Prince Charming for her, his name was not Lancy Gurney.
Having thus decided the matter satisfactorily to herself, she rose and quickly prepared herself for bed; for several days after she took good care not to be left alone with Lancy, and she kept him at a distance by her saucy speeches.
But his manner to her was the same as usual. The tender look in his eyes, when they met hers, was the only reminder of his words. The knowledge of his love, too, ceased to annoy her, or it was crowded back by the many incidents that filled her life at this time; but it was there, ready to spring up at the slightest touch.
CHAPTER X.
The first day of April dawned brightly. The warm rays of the sun seemed doubly welcome after the cold, stormy weather of the previous month, and the streets were filled with people, who were out enjoying the sunshine regardless of the mud that covered their feet at every step.
But Nova Scotians are a courageous people the whole country over, as witness the intrepidity with which they walk to and fro, year after year, through mud that seems in some places almost bottomless; for, strange though it may seem to outsiders, who cannot expect to learn the secrets of the learned road commissioners, the more time and money spent on a road the softer and muddier it seems to become.
It is a fact that can be vouched for by many responsible persons, that once, while a poor man was walking along one of the country roads in early spring, he sank so deep in the mire that, on putting forth his strength to lift his leg, he pulled it apart above the knee, leaving the lower half sticking in the mud! Fortunately he was carrying a strong cane, and by leaning upon it he managed to keep upright until help arrived, when he was rescued from his perilous position. After much difficulty, the imbedded limb was extracted from the mud, and safely fastened again in its place—it was made of wood!
But, leaving facts for fiction, let us step into the Sherwood household, and we will find Mr. Sherwood busy preparing for another trip to Prince Edward Island.
Mr. Plaisted had arrived from New York a few weeks previously, and was to accompany him, though the departure of this gentleman would cause no regrets in the household, for his true nature had been revealed during his stay amongst them. His bland and courteous manner was not inborn—it had but a surface character; and if "to know a man you must live in the house with him," then it took but a short time to become thoroughly acquainted with Mr. Plaisted. If he had not been so puffed up with conceit, he would have felt the altered atmosphere around him; but he was not sensitive—not in the least—and he could stand an unlimited amount of snubbing without being touched. His familiarity had indeed "bred