"Humph! Well, unless I"m greatly mistaken, Ruth--"
"Eh? Ruth--what?"
"Oh, nothing. Never mind that now. And allowing that Babbitt will, as you say, keep his mouth shut, admitting that the situation is just what it was before Captain Hunniwell lost the money or Babbitt came into the affair at all, still I"ve made up my mind that things can"t go on as they are. Jed, I--it"s a mighty hard thing to say to another man, but--the world--my world--just begins and ends with--with her."
His fists clenched and his jaw set as he said it. Jed bowed his head.
"With Maud, you mean," he said.
"Yes. I--I don"t care for anything else or anybody else. . . .
Oh, of course I don"t mean just that, you know. I do care for Sis and Babbie. But--they"re different."
"I understand, Charlie."
"No, you don"t. How can you? n.o.body can understand, least of all a set old crank like you, Jed, and a confirmed bachelor besides.
Beg pardon for contradicting you, but you don"t understand, you can"t."
Jed gazed soberly at the floor.
"Maybe I can understand a little, Charlie," he drawled gently.
"Well, all right. Let it go at that. The fact is that I"m at a crisis."
"Just a half minute, now. Have you said anything to Maud about-- about how you feel?"
"Of course I haven"t," indignantly. "How could I, without telling her everything?"
"That"s right, that"s right. Course you couldn"t, and be fair and honorable. . . . Hum. . . . Then you don"t know whether or not she--er--feels the same way about--about you?"
Charles hesitated. "No-o," he hesitated. "No, I don"t know, of course. But I--I feel--I--"
"You feel that that part of the situation ain"t what you"d call hopeless, eh? . . . Um. . . . Well, judgin" from what I"ve heard, I shouldn"t call it that, either. Would it surprise you to know, Charlie, that her dad and I had a little talk on this very subject not so very long ago?"
Evidently it did surprise him. Charles gasped and turned red.
"Captain Hunniwell!" he exclaimed. "Did Captain Hunniwell talk with you about--about Maud and--and me?"
"Yes."
"Well, by George! Then he suspected--he guessed that-- That"s strange."
Jed relinquished the grip of one hand upon his knee long enough to stroke his chin.
"Um . . . yes," he drawled drily. "It"s worse than strange, it"s-- er--paralyzin". More clairvoyants in Orham than you thought there was; eh, Charlie?"
"But why should he talk with you on that subject; about anything so--er--personal and confidential as that? With YOU, you know!"
Jed"s slow smile drifted into sight and vanished again. He permitted himself the luxury of a retort.
"Well," he observed musingly, "as to that I can"t say for certain.
Maybe he did it for the same reason you"re doin" it now, Charlie."
The young man evidently had not thought of it in just that light.
He looked surprised and still more puzzled.
"Why, yes," he admitted. "So I am, of course. And I do talk to you about things I never would think of mentioning to other people.
And Ruth says she does. That"s queer, too. But we are--er-- neighbors of yours and--and tenants, you know. We"ve known you ever since we came to Orham."
"Ye-es. And Sam"s known me ever since I came. Anyhow he talked with me about you and Maud. I don"t think I shall be sayin" more"n I ought to if I tell you that he likes you, Charlie."
"Does he?" eagerly. "By George, I"m glad of that! But, oh, well,"
with a sigh, "he doesn"t know. If he did know my record he might not like me so well. And as for my marrying his daughter--good NIGHT!" with hopeless emphasis.
"No, not good night by any means. Maybe it"s only good mornin".
Go on and tell me what you mean by bein" at a crisis, as you said a minute ago."
"I mean just that. The time has come when I must speak to Maud. I must find out if--find out how she feels about me. And I can"t speak to her, honorably, without telling her everything. And suppose she should care enough for me to--to--suppose she should care in spite of everything, there"s her father. She is his only daughter; he worships the ground she steps on. Suppose I tell him I"ve been," bitterly, "a crook and a jailbird; what will HE think of me--as a son-in-law? And now suppose he was fool enough to consent--which isn"t supposable--how could I stay here, working for him, sponging a living from him, with this thing hanging over us all? No, I can"t--I can"t. Whatever else happens I can"t do that.
And I can"t go on as I am--or I won"t. Now what am I going to do?"
He had risen and was pacing the floor. Jed asked a question.
"What does your sister want you to do?" he asked.
"Ruth? Oh, as I told you, she thinks of no one but me. How dreadful it would be for me to tell of my Middleford record! How awful if I lost my position in the bank! Suppose they discharged me and the town learned why! I"ve tried to make her see that, compared to the question of Maud, nothing else matters at all, but I"m afraid she doesn"t see it as I do. She only sees--me."
"Her brother. Um . . . yes, I know."
"Yes. Well, we talked and talked, but we got nowhere. So at last I said I was coming out to thank you for what you did to save me, Jed. I could hardly believe it then; I can scarcely believe it now. It was too much for any man to do for another. And she said to talk the whole puzzle out with you. She seems to have all the confidence on earth in your judgment, Jed. She is as willing to leave a decision to you, apparently, as you profess to be to leave one to your wooden prophet up on the shelf there; what"s-his-name-- er--Isaiah."
Jed looked greatly pleased, but he shook his head. "I"m afraid her confidence ain"t founded on a rock, like the feller"s house in the Bible," he drawled. "My decisions are liable to stick half way betwixt and between, same as--er--Jeremiah"s do. But," he added, gravely, "I have been thinkin" pretty seriously about you and your particular puzzle, Charlie, and--and I ain"t sure that I don"t see one way out of the fog. It may be a hard way, and it may turn out wrong, and it may not be anything you"ll agree to. But--"
"What is it? If it"s anything even half way satisfactory I"ll believe you"re the wisest man on earth, Jed Winslow."
"Well, if I thought you was liable to believe that I"d tell you to send your believer to the blacksmith"s "cause there was somethin"
wrong with it. No, I ain"t wise, far from it. But, Charlie, I think you"re dead right about what you say concernin" Maud and her father and you. You CAN"T tell her without tellin" him. For your own sake you mustn"t tell him without tellin" her. And you shouldn"t, as a straight up and down, honorable man keep on workin"
for Sam when you ask him, under these circ.u.mstances, to give you his daughter. You can"t afford to have her say "yes" because she pities you, nor to have him give in to her because she begs him to.
No, you want to be independent, to go to both of "em and say: "Here"s my story and here am I. You know now what I did and you know, too, what I"ve been and how I"ve behaved since I"ve been with you." You want to say to Maud: "Do you care enough for me to marry me in spite of what I"ve done and where I"ve been?" And to Sam: "Providin" your daughter does care for me, I mean to marry her some day or other. And you can"t be on his pay roll when you say that, as I see it."
Phillips stopped in his stride.
"You"ve put it just as it is," he declared emphatically. "There"s the situation--what then? For I tell you now, Jed Winslow, I won"t give her up until she tells me to."
"Course not, Charlie, course not. But there"s one thing more--or two things, rather. There"s your sister and Babbie. Suppose you do haul up stakes and quit workin" for Sam at the bank; can they get along without your support? Without the money you earn?"
The young man nodded thoughtfully. "Yes," he replied, "I see no reason why they can"t. They did before I came, you know. Ruth has a little money of her own, enough to keep her and Barbara in the way they live here in Orham. She couldn"t support me as a loafer, of course, and you can bet I should never let her try, but she could get on quite well without me. . . . Besides, I am not so sure that . . ."
"Eh? What was you goin" to say, Charlie?"