IV
He did not sleep well. He lay in bed, his hands clasped under his head, looking out at the summer sky.
“She’s a queer girl,” he thought, with a sort of resentment. “She’s bold—runs after a fellow; and yet you can see she doesn’t care two straws for him.”
In long imaginary conversations with Esther he regained his lost advantage. He was affable but cool—very cool. He could see her round little face quite clearly before him, her serene eyes, her neat fair hair.
He awoke after his restless night to a hot, still morning. He could not find a bath tub. Dressing reluctantly, unrefreshed and a bit irritable, he went downstairs. It was a few minutes after eight by his watch—a very decent, early hour, he thought; but, looking into the dining room, he saw only one place laid on the long table.
Mrs. Van Brink hurried in from the kitchen, limp, hot, and painfully anxious.
“Set down to the table, Mr. Ellinger,” she cried in her shrill voice. “I’ll bring your breakfast right off. We’re all done. You won’t have to wait more’n a minute.”
He ate alone, a little resentful that Esther didn’t appear. Then he went out on the porch. No one there—the shady street was quiet and empty. He went around the house to the sun-baked little yard at the back, where he discovered Mrs. Van Brink hanging dish towels on a line in terrible haste. Her face became positively convulsed with worry at the sight of his listlessness.
“Now, then!” she cried. “You don’t know what to do with yourself, I’ll be bound! And I haven’t got a minute to spare, with the dinner I have to get up for Mr. Van Brink at noon. His farm’s four miles off, you know.”
She stared at him, frowning, until an inspiration came.
“Maybe you’d enjoy to play on the harmonium,” she suggested. “Esther’s got some real sweet music.[Pg 33]”
Tommy did not know what a harmonium was; but she showed him a queer little organ in the parlor, and he sat before it all the rest of that intolerable morning, picking out tunes and experimenting with the stops.
At noon old Van Brink came driving home in his buggy, and his hot and anxious wife began hurrying back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, bringing in an enormous hot dinner. The farmer had nothing to say to Tommy. He sat there with his napkin tucked in his collar, consuming one dish after the other as fast as his wife brought them in, absorbed and ravenous, like a feeding animal. Now and again Tommy caught the old man’s small blue eyes surveying him with an expression which he could not comprehend, but which he didn’t like.
Van Brink drove off directly after eating, and his wife withdrew to the kitchen again. With growing resentment, Tommy seized his hat and went out, followed the route of the night before, and reached the village. Entering the only hotel, the Gilbert House, he ordered a cocktail and bought a newspaper; but the drink was shockingly bad, and he couldn’t endure the stale dullness of the place long enough to read the paper there.
He had never before in his life suffered from such boredom. He went back to the house, determined to write at once to his uncle and say he couldn’t stand it any longer.
And there, rocking on the porch and enjoying the cool of the afternoon, sat Esther.
“Hello!” she said cheerfully.
“Good afternoon,” he replied stiffly.
“Well! What makes you look so cross?”
“I’ve had a rotten day.”
“I’m sorry; but it wasn’t my fault, was it? You needn’t be cross at me.”
“It was your fault, in a way. You might have told me what there is to do in this place.”
“Oh, but there isn’t anything! I’ll take you for a walk after supper, if you want.”
So after supper, when Mrs. Van Brink had gone back to the kitchen, and her husband, in stocking feet, sat reading his newspaper, Esther and Tommy set out again.
“Shall we go right out in the country?” Esther asked him. “Or would you rather go through the village and see some of the fine houses?”
Tommy preferred the country.
They turned north, followed the dark and quiet street past all the little houses, and into a road soft with dust, under the black shadow of great trees, with a sweet breeze blowing from the meadows.
“One day’s enough for you,” said Esther. “How would you like to spend years here?”
“By Jove! How do you stand it?”
“Well, I won’t, any longer than I can help!”
They were going uphill steadily. The fields were left behind, and the pine forest was closing in on them, dark and fragrant.
“This is my favorite walk,” said Esther. “I often come here by myself.”
“Rather lonely, isn’t it?”
“I’m never lonely.”
Again that vague alarm came over the boy. He felt defenseless, lost. He dreaded to go farther; but, chattering pleasantly, Esther went on and on, and he had to answer and to follow.
The road grew rougher, and his little comrade stumbled often.
“Hadn’t we better turn back?” suggested Tommy. “You’ll be tired.”
“Oh, no! I don’t call this far!”
“And it’s getting late. Your mother and father—”
She laughed.
“You needn’t worry about them! Let’s sit down and rest a few minutes, if you like.”
There was a great flat rock a little way up the bank from the roadway. Sitting there, they could catch a glimpse of an enormous orange-colored moon through the branches.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” said Esther. “And doesn’t my ring look pretty in the moonlight?”
She held up a plump little hand for him to see.
“Are you engaged?” he asked, for even he knew that the question was expected of him.
“Yes—to the young man you saw last night in the drug store. It’s a secret, though; mommer and popper don’t know.”
“I hope you’ll be happy,” said Tommy, after a pause.
“I don’t see how I can be,” she answered plaintively. “I don’t really like him; but oh, dear, what else can I do? Why, I’ve only seen one real refined man in all my life. He was a traveling salesman. He wanted to marry me and go and live in New[Pg 34] York; but popper wouldn’t let me. He said I was too young.”
“Well, you know, you are, rather. You don’t want to be hasty, my dear young lady!”
She sighed.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this; but I’m so unhappy!”
He felt very sympathetic, but could think of nothing to say.
“I’m going to take off this ring now, while I’m with you,” Esther went on. “I want to forget all about Will for a while.” She slipped her warm little hand into his. “Oh, Tommy!” she said coaxingly. “Be nice, won’t you?”
The light of the moon shone clearly on her pretty upturned face, her white throat. He stared and stared at her. She leaned back, more and more, until her head was resting on his breast and her smooth hair brushed his lips.
The first wave of some immense and terrible emotion, something he had never before experienced, came rushing over him. He clenched his hands, struggling against a fierce desire to push her away.
“What are you doing to me?” he wanted to shout. “What’s happening to me? Go away! Get out!”
But she did not stir. She rested against him, contented as a kitten, soft, gentle, and still. Little by little his mood changed, his panic was allayed, and he bent over and kissed her. Then he wanted never to let her go again. He kissed her violently, time after time. He couldn’t stop.
A sort of madness possessed him. A terror greater than ever assailed him—a terror of himself. He knew he wasn’t to be trusted. He put her aside brusquely and got up.
“Come on!” he said. “It’s late. Let’s go back!”