The Cottage of Delight Part 38

"No, Mrs. Trott--mother, I'm going to call you mother. I shall not desert you to-night. From the cottage I saw the hea.r.s.e come here this afternoon and a man told me what it meant. This is your first night alone and I must be with you."

In silence Lizzie acquiesced. Remembering that Mandy had left supper prepared, she went to the kitchen, lighted a lamp, and began putting the food on the table. Tilly joined her, helping at this and that with swift, deft hands. Presently they sat down opposite each other. Neither ate much, though both were pretending to relish the food. The meal was almost concluded when there was a step on the porch and a vigorous rap on the door. Lizzie started and almost paled.

"Stay where you are," she said to Tilly. "I'll be back in a moment."

Tilly heard her light step to the door, then the door opened and a man's voice sounded: "h.e.l.lo, Liz! What's all this? My G.o.d! old girl, I just got to town and heard at the hotel about all three, and--"

"Hus.h.!.+" Tilly heard Lizzie's voice ring out. "Go away, and don't come back ever again. Do you hear me--_never again_?"

"But Liz, Liz! Why, old friend--"

"Go away, I tell you! I don't want you here and I won't have it! Tell all the others to stay away--every one, man and woman. I'm done, I tell you. I'm through. Go, go, I tell you! Go!"

There was a mumbled, bewildered protest which grew fainter and fainter till it ended with the clicking of the gate latch, and Lizzie, white and trembling, returned. She resumed her seat, and with unsteady hands took up her knife and fork, but made no comment on the interruption.

Supper over, they rose and put the things away. After this was done they sat talking in the parlor till nine o'clock. Then Tilly said, "Now you must go to bed, and so must I."

Lizzie got another lamp, and when she had lighted it she suddenly bethought herself of something. "You have no nightgown," she said. "Is it at the cottage?"

Tilly nodded. "Yes; I will run over for it, if you will give me a match to light the gas."

Lizzie averted her eyes, stood silent for a moment, and then said:

"No, no, you mustn't go at this time of night. Some one might see you leaving here or returning. No, no, that would never do, my child. I have a lot of clean nightgowns, but I have--" Lizzie broke off, her face flus.h.i.+ng, her eyes falling.

"Then why don't you lend me--" Tilly had read the thought of her embarra.s.sed hostess, delicate as it was, and yet did not know how to relieve the situation of its tension.

"Oh, I remember now!" Lizzie suddenly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed in relief. "I have some that have just been bought and given to me which I've never worn. They are rather too small for me. In fact, they are about your size. Come to my room and I'll get one."

To the simple, country-bred girl Lizzie's room seemed a luxurious one in the glow of the pink-shaded lamp on the center-table. The imitation damask curtains at the windows had a costly look, and the wide bed with its silk-lined lace covering and great puffy pillows seemed a thing of royal comfort. On the air a mixture of several perfumes floated. While Tilly stood in the doorway, holding her lamp, Lizzie went to a wardrobe, pulled down a long cardboard box, and began to take out some folded garments. Suddenly she turned her back to Tilly, and with a gown of fine linen in her hands she hastily proceeded to remove the pink ribbons and bows from the neck and sleeves.

"It is too gaudy for you, with all these gewgaws on it," she awkwardly explained, when she noticed that Tilly was watching her. "It is not what you'd prefer, I'm sure; but maybe you can make it do for once. It has never been worn. It is just from the store. Here, you can see the price-tag on it."

Tilly took it, was deeply touched, and bent and kissed Lizzie on the brow. "Good night, mother," she said, simply. "Try to sleep. I can see that you need rest. We are both in a sad plight, aren't we?"

"'Mother'! she called me 'mother'!" Lizzie said to herself, as Tilly turned away. She heard the door of John's room being closed, and, peering out into the corridor, she saw that it was dark save for a thread of light beneath the shutter. Then Lizzie, with a strange sense of something new and hitherto unexperienced in her drab life, started to prepare for bed. She had removed the pins from her hair and was about to let it fall, when all at once she paused, reflected for a moment, and then wound her hair up again.

"No, no, I mustn't go to bed," she said. "That would never do. The sweet child is in my care, and nothing shall happen to shock her or prevent her from sleeping. Somebody might come--who knows? Some one too drunk to be decent or orderly."

Therewith, Lizzie got a light shawl, threw it over her shoulders, blew out her lamp, and crept down the stairs. Seating herself at an open window of the parlor, whence she could see the gate and a part of the street leading townward, she determined to remain on guard through the night.

Ten o'clock came and pa.s.sed, eleven, twelve, one, and still she had no desire for sleep. She had decided how she would act if she saw any one approaching the isolated house. She would hurry out, meet the person before he reached the gate, and, if possible, quietly send him away.

At two o'clock she heard footsteps on the opposite side of the street. A man was slowly and cautiously pa.s.sing, his eyes on the house. Lizzie wondered, and when she saw him pause and retrace his steps, still looking in her direction, she became even alarmed. Her anxiety increased, for when the man was opposite the gate he began slowly to cross the street. From his light, furtive steps Lizzie knew that he was trying to avoid being seen or heard.

Rising, she tiptoed from the parlor into the hall and to the door.

Softly she turned the key, that Tilly might not hear, and stepped upon the porch. The sound she made was evidently heard by the man, for he paused in the middle of the street and stood still. Though the moonlight was clear enough, Lizzie failed to recognize in him any acquaintance of hers. She opened the gate and went directly to him.

"What do you want here?" she demanded, facing him sternly.

"Oh!" the man e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Are you Mrs. Trott?"

"Yes, but what do you want?"

She thought he sighed as he courteously lifted his hat. "Mrs. Trott, I don't want to intrude," he began. "I am a friend of your son's wife from Cranston. She was in such deep distress that I and my family aided her.

I helped her take a train this morning, but later decided to--"

"Oh, you are Joel Eperson, are you not?"

"Yes," was the answer.

Lizzie lowered her voice; her glance fell to the ground. "Tilly told me about you to-night--how kind you have always been to her and what a fine man you are."

Joel waved his hand disparagingly. "I am not a wise friend of hers, at any rate, Mrs. Trott," he sighed. "I ought not to have given in to her coming. But I didn't know that she--she-- You see, she told me that she was going to stay at the cottage. If I had thought--"

"She insisted on staying here," Lizzie replied, plaintively apologetic.

"She came before it was dark and insisted on staying. That is why I am up. Do you understand?"

Joel gravely inclined his head. "I understand," he said, "and it is fine and good of you, Mrs. Trott."

"And you were standing guard over her, too?" Lizzie went on.

Again he bowed his head. "It is a cruel world, Mrs. Trott," he said. "I hope you will pardon me for saying so, but if it should be known that Tilly stayed--"

"I know. You needn't tell me," Lizzie interrupted, sensitively. "Now listen, Mr. Eperson, you must take her home in the morning. You must take her home and prevent her from coming again. She will want to. She is not herself now. She is out of her head with grief. I love her--I love her, and I don't wonder that John did and made her his wife. I've brought all this on her and I can never undo it. You love her, too, I know it-- I see it in your face and hear it in your voice. I gathered it, too, from something she let fall about you and her before she met my son. Now go to a hotel and get some rest. I am going to sit up and I'll see that no harm comes to her. I'll make her go to the cottage before it is light, and you will find her there. I promise it."

"Thank you, Mrs. Trott." Joel bowed his uncovered head and held out his hand. "If I had known that you were--were like this I should not have worried."

Lizzie pressed his hand and clung to it as if for support to her in what she next faltered out. "I am a different woman from what I was only three days ago," she declared. "Certain things have torn me to shreds.

I'm bleeding inside and out. I don't know what I shall do, but I shall leave this house and bury myself from everybody I've a.s.sociated with in the past. You may not think it possible, but I'll die if I don't."

Joel pressed her hand warmly; he bent his head till his eyes met hers squarely, frankly. "Then I shall help you," he said, fervently. "Not only that, but I shall not oppose Tilly in anything she wants to do in your behalf, and she says she believes in you, Mrs. Trott. I am sure that she will want to see you again, and she must be allowed to do so.

I'll help her."

He left her standing in the center of the street and she slowly walked to the gate, pa.s.sed through it, and crept back to her post of vigil at the window.

CHAPTER XLIV

It was two months after John's acceptance of the position with Pilcher & Reed. The two partners were in the office together. John happened to be up-town on business for the firm.

"Well, what do you think of Trott now?" Reed asked, with a significant smile, referring to some estimates and calculations of John's which he had just submitted to his partner.

"I think he is a wonder," Pilcher returned. "I was thinking about his work last night. Do you know that I can see where he has already saved us several thousands of dollars? He prevents much oversupply of materials and doesn't let us make our old blunders, which often caused tearing out and rebuilding. He seems to have an eye for the finished thing before the work is even started. The architects hate him. They don't have a soft snap with him. He made me send back Hinkinson's plans for the Chester Flats--stairways too wide by ten inches, and ten feet too near the front for the stores on the sides."