William Rives said that he would be pleased to contribute, and Mrs.
Barkley had a moment of intense excitement when she read his check--$150. But her emotion only lasted until she put on her spectacles.
And yet, when Lydia, sitting at the kitchen table, wiped her eyes and counted her gold by the light of a candle in a hooded candlestick, she felt, somehow, William"s hand in it. For, by this time, William"s friendliness was beyond any question. He came to see her every other day, and he told her all his symptoms and talked of his loneliness and forlornness until they were both moved to tears.
"Poor William!" she said, her eyes overflowing with sympathy. "Well, I"m glad you have plenty of money, anyhow. It would be hard to be poor and have bad health, too."
"But I haven"t plenty of money," William said, with agitation. "How did you get such an idea? I haven"t!"
And then Miss Lydia was sorrier for him than ever. "Although," she said, cheerfully, "poverty is the last thing to worry about. Look at me. I don"t want to brag, but I"m always contented, and I"ll tell you why: _I don"t want things_. Don"t want things, and then you"re not unhappy without "em."
"Oh, Lydy, that"s so true," Mr. Rives said, earnestly. "I"m so glad you feel that way." And he began to call every day.
"It"s plain to be seen what"s going to happen," said Mrs. Barkley, excitedly, and whispered her hopes (in secret) to almost everybody in Old Chester--except Dr. Lavendar. He became very ill-tempered the moment she approached the subject. But she was jocose, in a deep ba.s.s, to Miss Lydia herself; and Miss Lydia did not pretend to misunderstand.
She reddened and laughed; but her eyes were not clear; there was a puzzled look at the back of them. Still, when she sat and looked at her gold the puzzle lightened, and her face, under her black frizette--in her excitement fallen sidewise over one ear--softened almost to tears. "William is kind," she said to herself.
And, indeed, at that very moment William was referring to her in most kindly terms. He was sitting in Mrs. Barkley"s gloomy parlor, on the edge of the horse-hair sofa, and Mrs. Barkley was regarding him with romantic interest. "I have been much saddened, ma"am," he was saying, "to observe the dest.i.tution of Miss Lydia Sampson."
Mrs. Barkley beamed. Was he going to do something, after all? She spoke in an amiable ba.s.s, twitching her heavy eyebrows. "Our little gift, which has gone to her to-night, will make her more comfortable.
I could wish it had been larger," she ended, and looked sidewise at Mr.
Rives, who bowed and regretted that it was not larger. He then coughed behind his hand.
"Mrs. Barkley, I wish to approach a subject of some delicacy."
("He _is_ going to do something," she thought, excitedly; "or perhaps he means marriage!")
"Mrs. Barkley, in past years there were pa.s.sages of affection between Miss Sampson and myself" (Mrs. Barkley bowed; her heart began to glow with that warmth which stirs the oldest of us at the sight of a lover).
"We were younger in those days, ma"am," William said, in his soft voice.
"Oh no!" she protested, politely. "Why, you are very well preserved, I"m sure."
"Yes," said William, "I am. Yet I am not as young as I once was."
This drifting away from Miss Lydia disturbed Mrs. Barkley. She lowered her chin and glared at him over her spectacles, saying, in a rumbling ba.s.s: "Neither is Lydia; and it"s hard for her to be dest.i.tute in her old age."
"Just so," Mr. Rives said, eagerly--"exactly. She is not as young as she once was, which, for many reasons, is desirable. But I think she is healthy?"
"Why, yes," Mrs. Barkley admitted; "but I don"t know that that makes it easier to be poor."
"But I infer that poverty has taught her economy?" William Rives said.
"Yes; but poverty is a hard teacher."
"But thorough--thorough!" said Mr. Rives; "and some people will learn of no other."
Mrs. Barkley was growing impatient; she gave up marriage and thought of a pension.
"Yes," said William; "she is economical, and has good health, and is fond of old clothes, and is kind-hearted, and doesn"t have any wants.
Excellent traits--excellent. I have looked very carefully at the items of expense in regard to a housekeeper or nurse."
Mrs. Barkley stared at him in bewilderment. Was he going to offer Lydia a position as housekeeper? She was fairly dizzy with this seesaw of possibilities; and she was perplexed, too, for, after all, badly as Lydia needed a.s.sistance, propriety must be considered, and certainly this housekeeping project was of doubtful propriety. "Because you know you are neither of you very old," she explained.
Mr. Rives looked disturbed. "Yes, we are," he said, sharply. "Quite old enough. I would not wish a youthful wife, for--many reasons.
There might be--results, which would interfere with my comfort. No, Lydia is no longer young; yet she is sufficiently robust to make me extremely comfortable." The light was breaking slowly on Mrs. Barkley.
Her face flushed; she sat up very straight and tapped the table with her thimble. "The expense of an extra person is not very considerable, is it?" Mr. Rives said, doubtfully. "It was in regard to this that I wished to consult you."
"Not more than the wages of a housekeeper or a nurse," Mrs. Barkley said, in a restrained voice.
"Exactly!" cried Mr. Rives--"granted that her health is good."
Mrs. Barkley opened and closed her lips. Her impulse to show him the door battled with her common-sense. After all, it would mean a home for Lydia; it would mean comfort and ease and absence from worry--plus, of course, Mr. Rives. But if Lydia liked him, that wouldn"t make any difference. And she must like him--her faithfulness to the picture proved it--and he was an agreeable person; amiable, too, Mrs. Barkley thought, for he always smiled when he spoke.
"Would you live in Old Chester?" she managed to say, after a pause.
"Yes."
"You would build, I suppose?" Mrs. Barkley said, trying, in the confusion of her thoughts, to make time.
"No," Mr. Rives said; "we would reside in Lydia"s present abode."
"_In Lydia"s house_? You couldn"t!--why, it would be impossible!"
Mrs. Barkley, her mouth open with astonishment, saw, suddenly, that this project was not comfort plus William, but William minus comfort.
"You couldn"t! The chimney in the parlor is dreadful; it smokes whenever the wind is from the west."
"But, as I understand, Lydia has been provided with the means of mending the chimney?" William said, anxiously.
At this the rein broke. Mrs. Barkley rose, tapping the table with alarming loudness and glaring down at her guest. "William Rives, I have been a perfect fool. But you are worse--you are a mean person.
I"d rather live with a murderer than a mean man!"
[Ill.u.s.tration: "MRS. BARKLEY ROSE, TAPPING THE TABLE WITH ALARMING LOUDNESS"]
Mr. Rives was unmoved. His little, steely smile never wavered; he rose also, bowed, and said: "Possibly Miss Sampson does not agree with you.
I will bid you good-night, ma"am."
"I was a perfect fool," she said again, as the door closed softly behind him.
But William Rives was no fool.... He said to himself that it behooved him to see Miss Lydia before Mrs. Barkley had a chance to impart to her those impolite views regarding himself. And that was why, as she was still sitting at her kitchen table, twinkling with happiness over the kindness of her world and piling her gold pieces in a little leaning tower, William knocked at the door.
Miss Lydia threw an ap.r.o.n over the small, glittering heap and ran to let her caller in. When she saw who it was she whipped off the ap.r.o.n to display her wealth; the tears stood in her eyes, and her happy heart burst into words: "How good people are! Just think--$100! Why, it takes my breath away--"
"It is a large sum of money," William said, solemnly, touching the gold with respectful fingers. "I would suggest a bank until you pay for the mending of your chimney. And you will get some interest if you defer payment for ninety days."
"Mending my chimney?" Miss Lydia said, thoughtfully. "Well--that wouldn"t take nearly all this."
William"s face brightened. "You are right to be prudent, Lydia," he said. "I admire prudence in a female; but still, masons and carpenters--in fact, all persons of that sort,--are--thieves!" Then he coughed delicately. "Lydia," he said, "I--I have been thinking--"
"Yes?" said Miss Lydia, calmly.