River his
intention" target="_blank" title="n.意图;打算;意义">
intention had been to return to the fort as soon as he had finished
his work, but what he did do was only another
illustration of that fatality
which affects everything. Man
hopefully makes his plans and an inexorable
destiny works out what it has in store for him.
The men of the
expedition returned to Fort Henry in due time, but Alfred had
been
unable to accompany them. He had sustained a
painfulinjury and had been
compelled to go to Fort Pitt for
medicalassistance. While there he had
received word that his mother was lying very ill at his old home in Southern
Virginia and if he wished to see her alive he must not delay in reaching her
bedside. He left Fort Pitt at once and went to his home, where he remained
until his mother's death. She had been the only tie that bound him to the old
home, and now that she was gone he determined to leave the scene of his
boyhood forever.
Alfred was the
rightful heir to all of the property, but an
unjust and selfish
stepfather stood between him and any
contentment he might have found there. He
decided he would be a soldier of fortune. He loved the
daring life of a
ranger, and preferred to take his chances with the hardy settlers on the
border rather than live the idle life of a gentleman farmer. He declared his
intention" target="_blank" title="n.意图;打算;意义">
intention to his step-father, who ill-concealed his
satisfaction at the turn
affairs had taken. Then Alfred packed his
belongings, secured his mother's
jewels, and with one sad,
backward glance rode away from the
stately old
mansion.
It was Sunday morning and Clarke had been two days in Fort Henry. From his
little room in the block-house he surveyed the well-remembered scene. The
rolling hills, the broad river, the green forests seemed like old friends.
"Here I am again," he mused. "What a fool a man can be. I have left a fine old
plantation, slaves, horses, a country noted for its pretty women--for what?
Here there can be nothing for me but Indians, hard work, privation, and
trouble. Yet I could not get here quickly enough. Pshaw! What use to speak of
the possibilities of a new country. I cannot
deceive myself. It is she. I
would walk a thousand miles and
starve myself for months just for one glimpse
of her sweet face. Knowing this what care I for all the rest. How strange she
should ride down to the old
sycamore tree
yesterday the moment I was there and
thinking of her. Evidently she had just returned from her visit. I wonder if
she ever cared. I wonder if she ever thinks of me. Shall I accept that
incident as a happy augury? Well, I am here to find out and find out I will.
Aha! there goes the church bell."
Laughing a little at his
eagerness he brushed his coat, put on his cap and
went down stairs. The settlers with their families were going into the meeting
house. As Alfred started up the steps he met Lydia Boggs.
"Why, Mr. Clarke, I heard you had returned," she said, smiling
pleasantly and
extending her hand. "Welcome to the fort. I am very glad to see you."
While they were chatting her father and Col. Zane came up and both greeted the
young man warmly.
"Well, well, back on the
frontier," said the Colonel, in his
hearty way. "Glad
to see you at the fort again. I tell you, Clarke, I have taken a fancy to that
black horse you left me last fall. I did not know what to think when Jonathan
brought back my horse. To tell you the truth I always looked for you to come
back. What have you been doing all winter?"
"I have been at home. My mother was ill all winter and she died in April."
"My lad, that's bad news. I am sorry," said Col. Zane putting his hand kindly
on the young man's shoulder. "I was wondering what gave you that older and
graver look. It's hard, lad, but it's the way of life."
"I have come back to get my old place with you, Col. Zane, if you will give it
to me."
"I will, and can promise you more in the future. I am going to open a road
through to Maysville, Kentucky, and start several new settlements along the
river. I will need young men, and am more than glad you have returned."
"Thank you, Col. Zane. That is more than I could have hoped for."
Alfred caught sight of a trim figure in a gray linsey gown coming down the
road. There were several young people approaching, but he saw only Betty. By
some evil chance Betty walked with Ralfe Miller, and for some mysterious
reason, which women always keep to themselves, she smiled and looked up into
his face at a time of all times she should not have done so. Alfred's heart
turned to lead.
When the young people reached the steps the eyes of the rivals met for one
brief second, but that was long enough for them to understand each other. They
did not speak. Lydia hesitated and looked toward Betty.
"Betty, here is--" began Col. Zane, but Betty passed them with
flaming cheeks
and with not so much as a glance at Alfred. It was an
awkward moment for him.
"Let us go in," he said composedly, and they filed into the church.
As long as he lived Alfred Clarke never forgot that hour. His pride kept him
chained in his seat. Outwardly he maintained his
composure, but
inwardly his
brain seemed throbbing, whirling, bursting. What an idiot he had been! He
understood now why his letter had never been answered. Betty loved Miller, a
man who hated him, a man who would leave no stone unturned to destroy even a
little
liking which she might have felt for him. Once again Miller had crossed
his path and worsted him. With a sudden
sickening sense of
despair he realized
that all his fond hopes had been but dreams, a fool's dreams. The dream of
that moment when he would give her his mother's jewels, the dream of that
charming face uplifted to his, the dream of the little
cottage to which he
would hurry after his day's work and find her
waiting at the gate,--these
dreams must be dispelled forever. He could
barely wait until the end of the
service. He wanted to be alone; to fight it out with himself; to crush out of
his heart that fair image. At length the hour ended and he got out before the
congregation and
hurried to his room.
Betty had company all that afternoon and it was late in the day when Col. Zane
ascended the stairs and entered her room to find her alone.
"Betty, I wish to know why you ignored Mr. Clarke this morning?" said Col.
Zane, looking down on his sister. There was a gleam in his eye and an
expression about his mouth seldom seen in the Colonel's features.
"I do not know that it concerns any one but myself," answered Betty quickly,
as her head went higher and her eyes flashed with a gleam not
unlike that in
her brother's.
"I beg your
pardon. I do not agree with you," replied Col. Zane. "It does
concern others. You cannot do things like that in this little place where
every one knows all about you and expect it to pass unnoticed. Martin's wife
saw you cut Clarke and you know what a
gossip she is. Already every one is
talking about you and Clarke."
"To that I am indifferent."
"But I care. I won't have people talking about you," replied the Colonel, who
began to lose
patience. Usually he had the best
temper imaginable. "Last fall
you allowed Clarke to pay you a good deal of attention and
apparently you were
on good terms when he went away. Now that he has returned you won't even speak
to him. You let this fellow Miller run after you. In my
estimation Miller is
not to be compared to Clarke, and judging from the warm greetings I saw Clarke
receive this morning, there are a number of folk who agree with me. Not that I
am praising Clarke. I simply say this because to Bessie, to Jack, to
everyone,
your act is incomprehensible. People are
calling you a flirt and
saying that
they would prefer some country manners."
"I have not allowed Mr. Miller to run after me, as you are pleased to term
it," retorted Betty with
indignation. "I do not like him. I never see him any
more unless you or Bessie or some one else is present. You know that. I cannot
prevent him from walking to church with me."
"No, I suppose not, but are you entirely
innocent of those sweet glances which
you gave him this morning?"
"I did not," cried Betty with an angry blush. "I won't be called a flirt by
you or by anyone else. The moment I am civil to some man all these old maids
and old women say I am flirting. It is outrageous."
"Now, Betty, don't get excited. We are getting from the question. Why are you
not civil to Clarke?" asked Col. Zane. She did not answer and after a moment
he continued. "If there is anything about Clarke that I do not know and that I
should know I want you to tell me. Personally I like the fellow. I am not
saying that to make you think you ought to like him because I do. You might
not care for him at all, but that would be no good reason for your actions.
Betty, in these
frontier settlements a man is soon known for his real worth.
Every one at the Fort liked Clarke. The youngsters adored him. Jessie liked
him very much. You know he and Isaac became good friends. I think he acted
like a man to-day. I saw the look Miller gave him. I don't like this fellow
Miller, anyway. Now, I am
taking the trouble to tell you my side of the