"I sometimes have thought that you cared for me--but I"m through with that now. n.o.body really cares for me. I"m only a rough farm hand. I know how to milk and scrub and churn and clean the stable--an" that"s what I do day in and day out. There"s no change, no rest for me, save when he takes me away from it for a little while. He understands, he"s the only one who does."
"But, Carlia!"
"You," she continued in the same hard voice, "you"re altogether too good and too wise for such as I. You"re so high up that I can"t touch you.
You live in the clouds, I among the clods. What have we two in common?"
"Much, Carlia--I--"
He arose and came to her, but she evaded him.
"Keep away, Dorian; don"t touch me. You had better go home now."
"You"re not yourself, Carlia. What is the matter? You have never acted like this before."
"It"s not because I haven"t felt like it, but it"s because I haven"t had the courage; but now it"s come out, and I can"t stop it. It"s been pent up in me like a flood--now it"s out. I hate this old farm--I hate everything and everybody--I--hate you!"
Dorian arose quickly as if he had been lifted to his feet. What was she saying? She was wild, crazy wild.
"What have I done that you should hate me?" he asked as quietly as his trembling voice would allow.
"Done? nothing. It"s what you haven"t done. What have you done to repay--my--Oh, G.o.d, I can"t stand it--I can"t stand it!"
She walked to the wall and turned her face to it. She did not cry. The room was silently tense for a few moments.
"I guess I"d better go," said Dorian.
She did not reply. He picked up his hat, lingered, then went to the door. She hated him. Then let him get out from her presence. She hated him. He had not thought that possible. Well, he would go. He would never annoy any girl who hated him, not if he knew it. How his heart ached, how his very soul seemed crushed! yet he could not appeal to her. She stood with her face to the wall, still as a statue, and as cold.
"Good night," he said at the door.
She said nothing, nor moved. He could see her body quiver, but he could not see her face. He perceived nothing clearly. The familiar room, poorly furnished, seemed strange to him. The big, ugly enlarged photographs on the wall blurred to his vision. Carlia, with head bowed now, appeared to stand in the midst of utter confusion. Dorian groped his way to the door, and stepped out into the wintry night. When he had reached the gate, Carlia rushed to the door.
"Dorian!" she cried in a heart-breaking voice, "O, Dorian, come back--come back!"
But Dorian opened the gate, closed it, then walked on down the road into the darkness, nor did he once look back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
Carlia"s ringing cry persisted with Dorian all the way home, but he hardened his heart and went steadily on. His mother had gone to bed, and he sat for a time by the dying fire, thinking of what he had just pa.s.sed through.
After that, Dorian kept away from Carlia. Although the longing to see her surged strongly through his heart from time to time, and he could not get away from the thought that she was in some trouble, yet his pride forbade him to intrude. He busied himself with ch.o.r.es and his books, and he did not relax in his ward duties. Once in a while he saw Carlia at the meeting house, but she absented herself more and more from public gatherings, giving as an excuse to all who inquired, that her work bound her more closely than ever at home.
Dorian and his mother frequently talked about Uncle Zed and the hopes the departed one had of the young man. "Do you really think, mother, that he meant I should devote my life to the harmonizing of science and religion?" he asked.
"I think Uncle Zed was in earnest. He had great faith in you."
"But what do you think of it, mother?"
After a moment"s thought, the mother replied.
"What do you think of it?"
"Well, it would be a task, though a wonderfully great one."
"The aim is high, the kind I would expect of you. Do you know, Dorian, your father had some such ambition. That"s one of the reasons we came to the country in hopes that some day he would have more time for studying."
"I never knew that, mother."
"And now, what if your father and Uncle Zed are talking about the matter up there in the spirit world."
Dorian thought of that for a few moments. Then: "I"ll have to go to the University for four years, but that"s only a beginning. Ill have to go East to Yale or Harvard and get all they have. Then will come a lot of individual research, and--Oh, mother, I don"t know."
"And all the time you"ll have to keep near to G.o.d and never lose your faith in the gospel, for what doth it profit if you gain the whole world of knowledge and lose your own soul." The mother came to him and ran her fingers lovingly through his hair. "But you"re equal to it, my son; I believe you can do it."
This was a sample of many such discussions, and the conclusion was reached that Dorian should work harder than ever, if that were possible, for two or perhaps three years, by which time the farms could be rented and the income derived from them be enough to provide for the mother"s simple needs and the son"s expenses while at school.
Spring came early that year, and Dorian was glad of it, for he was eager to be out in the growing world and turn that growth to productiveness.
When the warm weather came for good, books were laid aside, though not forgotten. From daylight until dark, he was busy. The home farm was well planted, the dry-farm wheat was growing beautifully. Between the two, prospects were bright for the furthering of their plans.
"Mother, when and where in this great plan of ours, am I to get married?"
Dorian and his mother were enjoying the dusk and the cool of the evening within odorous reach of Mrs. Trent"s flowers, many of which had come from Uncle Zed"s garden. They had been talking over some details of their "plan." Mrs. Trent laughed at the abruptness of the question.
"Oh, do you want to get married?" she asked, wondering what there might be to this query.
"Well--sometimes, of course, I"ll have to have a wife, won"t I?"
"Certainly, in good time; but you"re in no hurry, are you?"
"Oh, no; I"m just talking on general principles. There"s no one who would have me now."
The mother did not dispute this. She knew somewhat of his feelings toward Carlia. These lovers" misunderstandings were not serious, she thought to herself. All would end properly and well, in good time.
But Carlia was in Dorian"s thought very often, much to his bewilderment of heart and mind. He often debated with himself if he should not definitely give her up, cease thinking about her as being anything to him either now or hereafter; but it seemed impossible to do that.
Carlia"s image persisted even as Mildred"s did. Mildred, away from the entanglements of the world, was safe to him; but Carlia had her life to live and the trials and difficulties of mortality to encounter and to overcome; and that would not be easy, with her beauty and her impulsive nature. She needed a man"s clear head and steady hand to help her, and who was more fitting to do that than he himself, Dorian thought without conscious egotism.
If it were possible, Dorian always spent Sunday at home. If he was on his dry farm in the hills, he drove down on Sat.u.r.day evenings. One Sat.u.r.day in midsummer, he arrived home late and tired. He put up his team, came in, washed, and was ready for the good supper which his mother always had for him. The mother busied herself about the kitchen and the table.
"Come and sit down, mother," urged Dorian.
"What"s the fussing about! Everything I need is here on the table.
You"re tired, I see. Come, sit down with me and tell me all the news."
"The news? what news!"