The door closed. He stood, for a minute, looking at the ground glass in its panels. Then the light behind those panels went out. He turned away, in a state of mind divided between disgust, resentment and discouragement. Women were a non-comprehensible lot, and the best of them seemed to be as illogical and unreasonable as the worst. It was a thought by no means original, but he considered it a discovery all his own. He walked to the stable, climbed into his buggy and drove, in miserable reverie, to Denboro.
Upstairs in the pink room Esther was lying upon the bed, her wet cheeks buried in the pillows. The things Bob had said about her uncle were wicked—wicked. But if they were true then her uncle was wicked. And, in that case, she, herself, for having treated Bob as she had, was the most wicked of all. It was a wicked, hateful world altogether.
CHAPTER XV
“IF” is one of the shortest words in the English language and also one of the most important. “If” Elisha Cook had not been taken ill with a cold, accompanied by complications threatening pneumonia, the complications now threatening the love story of his grandson and Foster Townsend’s niece might not have been aggravated. The disagreement between the young people was serious, but not too dangerous. Had that particular “if” not arisen— But it did arise.
Bob, when he reached Denboro that evening, had made up his mind on one point, namely, that he would, the very next morning, keep his promise to Esther and tell his grandfather that he had been calling at the big house in Harniss and why he had done so. The prospect was anything but cheerful and what its consequences might be he did not dare consider. He was ashamed of his procrastination, although he still believed his reasons for the delay to be good ones. If left to himself he would have waited even longer, for, as he saw it, nothing was to be gained and perhaps much lost by premature disclosure of his secret. But, right or wrong, he would disclose it now. She should not have another opportunity to taunt him with lack of courage and failure to keep his word.
As to the other promise she had demanded, that he carry out his plan to go abroad regardless of the fact that she was to remain at home, that was harder to give. He was not sure that he would give it. He would wait until they met again and he had further opportunity to plead his side of the case. She was unreasonable in demanding such a thing and he hoped, after she had had time to think it over, she would realize that unreasonableness.
Her uncle—there was the trouble. Foster Townsend was to blame. He was a sly, scheming old hypocrite, just as Bob had declared him to be. He had been sending her abroad just to separate them and then, after she told him that he—Bob—was going also, he had trumped up the transparent excuse for keeping her in Harniss. Esther should realize that this was precisely what had happened. And, too, she must realize that if he—Bob again—did go alone, then Foster Townsend’s underhand scheme would be working just exactly as he hoped. Surely it was obvious enough. She must see through it; she would, just as soon as she considered it calmly and deliberately.
He was surprised when he drove into the yard, to find the windows of his grandfather’s room alight and to see the Denboro doctor’s horse and buggy standing by the door. The Cook housekeeper met him when he entered. Mr. Cook’s cold had grown suddenly worse, she told him, and the doctor seemed somewhat alarmed.
“You had better go right up, Bob,” she said. “Mr. Cook’s been askin’ for you every other minute for the last two hours. He’s frightened about himself—you know how he is when there’s anything the matter with him—and he won’t lay still or keep from frettin’ unless you are there.”
Bob stood watch beside his grandfather’s bed until the old gentleman at last fell asleep. Dodging the questions of the querulous patient was the hardest part of the vigil. Elisha Cook was anxious to know where his grandson had been, why he kept going away and leaving him all alone like this—to die, for all he knew—and if he intended to keep on doing it until he went off to Europe and left him to die or not, just as it happened. Bob promised to remain at home that night and other nights for the present, at least. And he reluctantly dismissed all idea of disclosing his feeling for Esther until his grandfather should be well and strong once more. He would write her and explain the situation; that was all he could do now.