Added Upon Part 6

III.

"Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain."--_Psalms 31:30._

Miss Virginia Wilton was engaged to teach the spring term of school at the Dry Bench schoolhouse. Why that upland strip bordering the mountains should be called "Dry Bench," Miss Wilton, at first, did not understand.

If there was a garden spot in this big, ofttimes barren Western country, more beautiful than Dry Bench, she had in all her rambles failed to find it. But when the secret of the big reservoir up in the hills came to her knowledge, she wondered the more; and one member of the school board from that moment rose to a higher place in her estimation; yes, went past a long row of friends, up, shall it be said to the seat of honor?

Miss Wilton gave general satisfaction, and she was engaged for the next school year.

For one whole year, the school teacher had pa.s.sed the Ames farm twice each day. She called often on Mrs. Ames, and Nina became her fast friend. During those cool May mornings and afternoons, when the sky was cloudless and the breeze came from the mountains, the young school teacher pa.s.sed up and down the road and fell to looking with pleasure on the beautiful fields and orchards around her, and especially at the Ames farm the central and most flouris.h.i.+ng of them all. Perhaps it would not be fair to a.n.a.lyze her thoughts too closely. She was yet young, only twenty-two--Rupert's own age; yet Miss Wilton's experiences in this world's school were greater than that of the simple young farmer's.

Had she designs on the Ames farm and its master? She had been in the place a year only. How could such thoughts arise within such a little head? How could such serious schemes brood behind such laughing lips and sparkling eyes? Strange that such should be the case, but truth is ofttimes strange.

Since the railroad had been extended through the valley, the town of Willowby had grown wonderfully. Its long, straight streets enclosing the rectangular squares, had not crept, but had sped swiftly out into the country on all sides, and especially towards the mountains, until now the Ames place was within the corporated city limits. Willowby soon became a s.h.i.+pping point for grain and fruits to the markets which the mining towns to the north afforded. The Ames orchard consisted of the finest fruits which commanded a high price. Yes, the property was fast making its owners rich.

Rupert Ames was a "rising young man," lacking the finished polish of a higher education, no doubt, but still, he was no "green-horn." Even Miss Wilton had to acknowledge that, when she became acquainted so that she could speak freely with him. He was a shrewd business man and knew how to invest his growing bank account. It was no secret that city lots and business property were continually being added to his possessions.

As to home life at the farm, Miss Wilton was always charmed with the kind hearted mother, the bright, cheerful Nina, and the handsome, sober head of the family. Such a beautiful spirit of harmony brooded over the place! Even within the year, the observant young woman could see signs of culture and coming wealth. The repairing of old buildings, and the erecting of the new ones; the repainting and decorating of rooms; the addition of costly pictures and furniture; the beautifying of the outside surroundings--all this was observed, and a mental note taken.

For a time Rupert Ames was quite reserved in the presence of the young school teacher. Naturally reticent, he was more than ever shy in the company of an educated lady from the East. Rupert never saw her but he thought of the day of her arrival on Dry Bench and the time when he held her in his arms. Never had he referred to the latter part of the episode, though she often talked of her peculiar introduction to them.

At the end of the first year, Miss Wilton had so far shown that she was but common flesh and blood that Rupert had been in her company to a number of socials, and they had walked from church a few times together.

Dame gossip at once mated the two, and p.r.o.nounced it a fine match.

Early in September they had a peach party at the Ames farm. Willowby's young folks were there, and having a good time. When the sun sank behind the hills on the other side of the valley, and the cool air came from the eastern mountains, Chinese lanterns were hung on the trees, and chairs and tables were placed on the lawn. There were cake and ice-cream and peaches--peaches of all kinds, large and small, white and yellow, juicy and dry; for this was a peach party, and everybody was supposed to eat, at least, half a dozen.

The band, with Volmer Holm as leader, furnished the music; and beautiful it was, as it echoed from the porch out over the a.s.sembly on the lawn.

When the strains of a waltz floated out, a dozen couples glided softly over the velvety gra.s.s.

"That's fine music, Volmer," Rupert was saying to the bandmaster, as the music ceased.

"Do you think so? We've practiced very much since our new organization was effected. Will it do for a concert?"

"You know I'm no judge of music. I like yours, though, Volmer. What do you say about it, Miss Wilton? Mr. Holm wishes to know if his music is fit for a concert?"

"Most certainly it is," answered the young lady addressed, as she stepped up with an empty peach basket. "Mr. Holm, I understand that last piece is your own composition? If so, I must congratulate you; it is most beautiful."

"Thank you," and he bowed as he gave the signal to begin again.

"Mr. Ames, more peaches are wanted--the big yellow ones. Where shall I find them?"

"I'll get some--or, I'll go with you." He was getting quite bold.

Perhaps the music had something to do with that.

He did not take the basket, but led the way out into the orchard. It was quite a distance to the right tree.

"That is beautiful music," said she. "Mr. Holm is a genius. He'll make his mark if he keeps on."

"Yes, I understand that he is going East to study. That will bring him out if there is anything in him."

There was a pause in the conversation; then Rupert remarked carefully, as if feeling his way:

"Yes, there's talent in Volmer, but he makes music his G.o.d, which I think is wrong."

"Do you think so?" she asked.

What that expression meant, it was hard to say.

"Yes, I think that no man should so drown himself in one thing that he is absolutely dead to everything else. Mr. Holm does that. Volmer wors.h.i.+ps nothing but music."

Rupert filled the basket and they sauntered back.

"A more beautiful G.o.d I cannot imagine," she said, half aloud.

Rupert turned with an inquiring look on his face, but he got nothing more from her, as she was busy with a peach. Her straw hat was tilted back on her head, and the wavy brown hair was somewhat in confusion.

School teaching had not, as yet, driven the roses from her cheeks, nor the smiles from her lips. There was just enough of daylight left so that Rupert could see Miss Wilton's big eye looking into his own. How beautiful she was!

"Mr. Ames, before we get back to the company, I wish to ask you a question. Mr. Holm has asked me to sing at his concert, and I should like to help him, if the school trustees do not object."

"Why should they, Miss Wilton?"

"Well, some people, you know, are so peculiar."

"I a.s.sure you they will not care--that is, if it will not interfere with your school duties."

"As to that, not a moment. I need no rehearsals as I am used to--that is I--you see, I will sing some old song."

Miss Wilton's speech became unusually confused, and Rupert noticed it; but just then Nina and her escort joined them, and they all went back to the lawn.

"Miss Wilton's going to sing at the concert," Volmer told Rupert later in the evening. "'Twill be a big help. She's a regular opera singer, you know. She's been in the business. I heard her sing in Denver two years ago, and she was with a troupe that pa.s.sed through here some time since.

I remember her well, but of course I wouldn't say anything to her about it. No doubt she wishes to forget it all."

"What do you mean?" asked Rupert, quite fiercely.

"I mean that her company then was not of the choicest, but I believe she's all right and a good enough girl. Rupe, don't bother about that.

Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything to you."

"Oh, that's all right. I'm glad you mentioned it."

Still a dull, miserable pain fastened itself in Rupert Ames' heart the rest of the evening; and even when the company had gone, and Miss Wilton had lingered and sweetly said "Good-night," and the lights were out, strange thoughts and feelings drove from his eyes the sleep that usually came peacefully to him.

Rupert Ames was in love. The fact became the central idea of his existence.

During Rupert's busy life, love affairs had not occupied much of his attention. Of course, he, in common with the rest of young mankind, thought that some day he would love some girl and make her his wife; but it was always as a far-away dream to him, connected with an angelic perfection which he always found missing in the workaday world. His wife must be a pure, perfect creature. Marriage was a sacred thing--one of the great events in a person's life. Not that these views had now changed altogether, for Miss Virginia Wilton came nearer his ideal than anyone he had yet met. Still, there was considerable of the tangible present about her. She was educated, businesslike, and a leader, and he, ambitious of attaining to something in the world, would need such a woman for his wife. But that sting which Volmer Holm had given him! His wife must be beyond suspicion. He could not afford to make a mistake, for if he did, it would be the mistake of his life. But was it a sin for a girl to sing in an opera? Certainly not. Anyway, he would not condemn her unheard--and then, he was sure he loved her. It had come to him unbidden. It was no fault of his that this girl should have come into his common life, and, seemingly, completely change it.

The autumn days pa.s.sed. With the work of harvesting and marketing there was no time for social gatherings. The school teacher had changed her boarding place, and her path lay no longer past the Ames farm. So Rupert mingled his thoughts with his labors, and in time there emerged from that fusion a fixed purpose.