A Love-Knot
Mr. Nathaniel Clark and Mrs. Bowman had just finished their third gameof draughts. It had been a difficult game for Mr. Clark, the lady's mindhaving been so occupied with other matters that he had had greatdifficulty in losing. Indeed, it was only by pushing an occasional pieceof his own off the board that he had succeeded."A penny for your thoughts, Amelia," he said, at last.Mrs. Bowman smiled faintly. "They were far away," she confessed.Mr. Clark assumed an expression of great solemnity; allusions of thiskind to the late Mr. Bowman were only too frequent. He was fortunatewhen they did not grow into reminiscences of a career too blameless forsuccessful imitation."I suppose," said the widow, slowly--"I suppose I ought to tell you:I've had a letter."Mr. Clark's face relaxed."It took me back to the old scenes," continued Mrs. Bowman, dreamily. "Ihave never kept anything back from you, Nathaniel. I told you all aboutthe first man I ever thought anything of--Charlie Tucker?"Mr. Clark cleared his throat. "You did," he said, a trifle hoarsely."More than once.""I've just had a letter from him," said Mrs. Bowman, simpering. "Fancy,after all these years! Poor fellow, he has only just heard of myhusband's death, and, by the way he writes--"She broke off and drummed nervously on the table."He hasn't heard about me, you mean," said Mr. Clark, after waiting togive her time to finish."How should he?" said the widow."If he heard one thing, he might have heard the other," retorted Mr.Clark. "Better write and tell him. Tell him that in six weeks' timeyou'll be Mrs. Clark. Then, perhaps, he won't write again."Mrs. Bowman sighed. "I thought, after all these years, that he must bedead," she said, slowly, "or else married. But he says in his letterthat he has kept single for my sake all these years.""Well, he'll be able to go on doing it," said Mr. Clark; "it'll comeeasy to him after so much practice.""He--he says in his letter that he is coming to see me," said the widow,in a low voice, "to--to--this evening.""Coming to see you?" repeated Mr. Clark, sharply. "What for?""To talk over old times, he says," was the reply. "I expect he hasaltered a great deal; he was a fine-looking fellow--and so dashing.After I gave him up he didn't care what he did. The last I heard of himhe had gone abroad."Mr. Clark muttered something under his breath, and, in a mechanicalfashion, began to build little castles with the draughts. He was justabout to add to an already swaying structure when a thundering rat-tat-tat at the door dispersed the draughts to the four corners of the room.The servant opened the door, and the next moment ushered in Mrs.Bowman's visitor.A tall, good-looking man in a frock-coat, with a huge spray ofmignonette in his button-hole, met the critical gaze of Mr. Clark. Hepaused at the door and, striking an attitude, pronounced in tones ofgreat amazement the Christian name of the lady of the house."Mr. Tucker!" said the widow, blushing."The same girl," said the visitor, looking round wildly, "the same asthe day she left me. Not a bit changed; not a hair different."He took her extended hand and, bending over it, kissed it respectfully."It's--it's very strange to see you again, Mr. Tucker," said Mrs.Bowman, withdrawing her hand in some confusion."Mr. Tucker!" said that gentleman, reproachfully; "it used to beCharlie."Mrs. Bowman blushed again, and, with a side glance at the frowning Mr.Clark, called her visitor's attention to him and introduced them. Thegentlemen shook hands stiffly."Any friend of yours is a friend of mine," said Mr. Tucker, with apatronizing air. "How are you, sir?"Mr. Clark replied that he was well, and, after some hesitation, saidthat he hoped he was the same. Mr. Tucker took a chair and, leaningback, stroked his huge mustache and devoured the widow with his eyes."Fancy seeing you again!" said the latter, in some embarrassment. "Howdid you find me out?""It's a long story," replied the visitor, "but I always had the ideathat we should meet again. Your photograph has been with me all over theworld. In the backwoods of Canada, in the bush of Australia, it has beenmy one comfort and guiding star. If ever I was tempted to do wrong, Iused to take your photograph out and look at it.""I s'pose you took it out pretty often?" said Mr. Clark, restlessly. "Tolook at, I mean," he added, hastily, as Mrs. Bowman gave him anindignant glance."Every day," said the visitor, solemnly. "Once when I injured myself outhunting, and was five days without food or drink, it was the only thingthat kept me alive."Mr. Clark's gibe as to the size of the photograph was lost in Mrs.Bowman's exclamations of pity."I once lived on two ounces of gruel and a cup of milk a day forten days," he said, trying to catch the widow's eye. "After the tendays--""When the Indians found me I was delirious," continued Mr. Tucker, in ahushed voice, "and when I came to my senses I found that they werecalling me 'Amelia.'"Mr. Clark attempted to relieve the situation by a jocose inquiry as towhether he was wearing a mustache at the time, but Mrs. Bowman frownedhim down. He began to whistle under his breath, and Mrs. Bowman promptlysaid, "H'sh!""But how did you discover me?" she inquired, turning again to thevisitor."Wandering over the world," continued Mr. Tucker, "here to-day and thereto-morrow, and unable to settle down anywhere, I returned to Northtownabout two years ago. Three days since, in a tramcar, I heard your namementioned. I pricked up my ears and listened; when I heard that you werefree I could hardly contain myself. I got into conversation with thelady and obtained your address, and after travelling fourteen hours hereI am.""How very extraordinary!" said the widow. "I wonder who it could havebeen? Did she mention her name?"Mr. Tucker shook his head. Inquiries as to the lady's appearance, age,and dress were alike fruitless. "There was a mist before my eyes," heexplained. "I couldn't realize it. I couldn't believe in my goodfortune.""I can't think--" began Mrs. Bowman."What does it matter?" inquired Mr. Tucker, softly. "Here we aretogether again, with life all before us and the misunderstandings oflong ago all forgotten."Mr. Clark cleared his throat preparatory to speech, but a peremptoryglance from Mrs. Bowman restrained him."I thought you were dead," she said, turning to the smiling Mr. Tucker."I never dreamed of seeing you again.""Nobody would," chimed in Mr. Clark. "When do you go back?""Back?" said the visitor. "Where?""Australia," replied Mr. Clark, with a glance of defiance at the widow."You must ha' been missed a great deal all this time."Mr. Tucker regarded him with a haughty stare. Then he bent towards Mrs.Bowman."Do you wish me to go back?" he asked, impressively,"We don't wish either one way or the other," said Mr. Clark, before thewidow could speak. "It don't matter to us.""We?" said Mr. Tucker, knitting his brows and gazing anxiously at Mrs.Bowman. "We?""We are going to be married in six weeks' time," said Mr. Clark.Mr. Tucker looked from one to the other in silent misery; then,shielding his eyes with his hand, he averted his head. Mrs. Bowman, withher hands folded in her lap, regarded him with anxious solicitude."I thought perhaps you ought to know," said Mr. Clark.Mr. Tucker sat bolt upright and gazed at him fixedly. "I wish you joy,"he said, in a hollow voice."Thankee," said Mr. Clark; "we expect to be pretty happy." He smiled atMrs. Bowman, but she made no response. Her looks wandered from one tothe other--from the good-looking, interesting companion of her youth tothe short, prosaic little man who was exulting only too plainly in hisdiscomfiture.Mr. Tucker rose with a sigh. "Good-by," he said, extending his hand."You are not going--yet?" said the widow.Mr. Tucker's low-breathed "I must" was just audible. The widow renewedher expostulations."Perhaps he has got a train to catch," said the thoughtful Mr. Clark."No, sir," said Mr. Tucker. "As a matter of fact, I had taken a room atthe George Hotel for a week, but I suppose I had better get back homeagain.""No; why should you?" said Mrs. Bowman, with a rebellious glance at Mr.Clark. "Stay, and come in and see me sometimes and talk over old times.And Mr. Clark will be glad to see you, I'm sure. Won't you Nath--Mr.Clark?""I shall be--delighted," said Mr. Clark, staring hard at themantelpiece. "De-lighted."Mr. Tucker thanked them both, and after groping for some time for thehand of Mr. Clark, who was still intent upon the mantelpiece, pressed itwarmly and withdrew. Mrs. Bowman saw him to the door, and a low-voicedcolloquy, in which Mr. Clark caught the word "afternoon," ensued. By thetime the widow returned to the room he was busy building with thedraughts again.Mr. Tucker came the next day at three o'clock, and the day after at two.On the third morning he took Mrs. Bowman out for a walk, airilyexplaining to Mr. Clark, who met them on the way, that they had come outto call for him. The day after, when Mr. Clark met them returning from awalk, he was assured that his silence of the day before was understoodto indicate a distaste for exercise."And, you see, I like a long walk," said Mrs. Bowman, "and you are notwhat I should call a good walker.""You never used to complain," said Mr. Clark; "in fact, it was generallyyou that used to suggest turning back.""She wants to be amused as well," remarked Mr. Tucker; "then she doesn'tfeel the fatigue."Mr. Clark glared at him, and then, shortly declining Mrs. Bowman'sinvitation to accompany them home, on the ground that he requiredexercise, proceeded on his way. He carried himself so stiffly, and hismanner was so fierce, that a well-meaning neighbor who had crossed theroad to join him, and offer a little sympathy if occasion offered,talked of the weather for five minutes and inconsequently faded away ata corner.Trimington as a whole watched the affair with amusement, although Mr.Clark's friends adopted an inflection of voice in speaking to him whichreminded him strongly of funerals. Mr. Tucker's week was up, but thelandlord of the George was responsible for the statement that he hadpostponed his departure indefinitely.Matters being in this state, Mr. Clark went round to the widow's oneevening with the air of a man who has made up his mind to decisiveaction. He entered the room with a bounce and, hardly deigning to noticethe greeting of Mr. Tucker, planted himself in a chair and surveyed himgrimly. "I thought I should find you here," he remarked."Well, I always am here, ain't I?" retorted Mr. Tucker, removing hiscigar and regarding him with mild surprise."Mr. Tucker is my friend," interposed Mrs. Bowman. "I am the only friendhe has got in Trimington. It's natural he should be here."Mr. Clark quailed at her glance."People are beginning to talk," he muttered, feebly."Talk?" said the widow, with an air of mystification belied by hercolor. "What about?"Mr. Clark quailed again. "About--about our wedding," he stammered.Mr. Tucker and the widow exchanged glances. Then the former took hiscigar from his mouth and, with a hopeless gesture threw it into thegrate."Plenty of time to talk about that," said Mrs. Bowman, after a pause."Time is going," remarked Mr. Clark. "I was thinking, if it wasagreeable to you, of putting up the banns to-morrow.""There--there's no hurry," was the reply."'Marry in haste, repent at leisure,'" quoted Mr. Tucker, gravely."Don't you want me to put 'em up?" demanded Mr. Clark, turning to Mrs.Bowman."There's no hurry," said Mrs. Bowman again. "I--I want time to think."Mr. Clark rose and stood over her, and after a vain attempt to meet hisgaze she looked down at the carpet."I understand," he said, loftily. "I am not blind.""It isn't my fault," murmured the widow, drawing patterns with her toeon the carpet. "One can't help their feelings."Mr. Clark gave a short, hard laugh. "What about my feelings?" he said,severely. "What about the life you have spoiled? I couldn't havebelieved it of you.""I'm sure I'm very sorry," murmured Mrs. Bowman, "and anything that Ican do I will. I never expected to see Charles again. And it was sosudden; it took me unawares. I hope we shall still be friends.""Friends!" exclaimed Mr. Clark, with extraordinary vigor. "Withhim?"He folded his arms and regarded the pair with a bitter smile; Mrs.Bowman, quite unable to meet his eyes, still gazed intently at thefloor."You have made me the laughing-stock of Trimington," pursued Mr. Clark."You have wounded me in my tenderest feelings; you have destroyed myfaith in women. I shall never be the same man again. I hope that youwill never find out what a terrible mistake you've made."Mrs. Bowman made a noise half-way between a sniff and a sob; Mr.Tucker's sniff was unmistakable."I will return your presents to-morrow," said Mr. Clark, rising. "Good-by, forever!"He paused at the door, but Mrs. Bowman did not look up. A second laterthe front door closed and she heard him walk rapidly away.For some time after his departure she preserved a silence which Mr.Tucker endeavored in vain to break. He took a chair by her side, and atthe third attempt managed to gain possession of her hand."I deserved all he said," she cried, at last. "Poor fellow, I hope hewill do nothing desperate.""No, no," said Mr. Tucker, soothingly."His eyes were quite wild," continued the widow. "If anything happens tohim I shall never forgive myself. I have spoilt his life."Mr. Tucker pressed her hand and spoke of the well-known refininginfluence a hopeless passion for a good woman had on a man. He cited hisown case as an example."Disappointment spoilt my life so far as worldly success goes," he said,softly, "but no doubt the discipline was good for me."Mrs. Bowman smiled faintly, and began to be a little comforted.Conversation shifted from the future of Mr. Clark to the past of Mr.Tucker; the widow's curiosity as to the extent of the latter's worldlysuccess remaining unanswered by reason of Mr. Tucker's suddenremembrance of a bear-fight.Their future was discussed after supper, and the advisability of leavingTrimington considered at some length. The towns and villages of Englandwere at their disposal; Mr. Tucker's business, it appeared, beingindependent of place. He drew a picture of life in a bungalow withmodern improvements at some seaside town, and, the cloth having beenremoved, took out his pocket-book and, extracting an old envelope, drewplans on the back.It was a delightful pastime and made Mrs. Bowman feel that she wastwenty and beginning life again. She toyed with the pocket-book andcomplimented Mr. Tucker on his skill as a draughtsman.A letter or two fell out and she replaced them. Then a small newspapercutting, which had fluttered out with them, met her eye."A little veranda with roses climbing up it," murmured Mr. Tucker, stilldrawing, "and a couple of--"His pencil was arrested by an odd, gasping noise from the window. Helooked up and saw her sitting stiffly in her chair. Her face seemed tohave swollen and to be colored in patches; her eyes were round andamazed."Aren't you well?" he inquired, rising in disorder.Mrs. Bowman opened her lips, but no sound came from them. Then she gavea long, shivering sigh."Heat of the room too much for you?" inquired the other, anxiously.Mrs. Bowman took another long, shivering breath. Still incapable ofspeech, she took the slip of paper in her trembling fingers and aninvoluntary exclamation of dismay broke from Mr. Tucker. She dabbedfiercely at her burning eyes with her handkerchief and read it again."TUCKER.--If this should meet the eye of Charles Tucker, who knewAmelia Wyborn twenty-five years ago, he will hear of something greatlyto his advantage by communicating with N. C., Royal Hotel,Northtown."Mrs. Bowman found speech at last. "N. C.--Nathaniel Clark," she said,in broken tones. "So that is where he went last month. Oh, what a foolI've been! Oh, what a simple fool!"Mr. Tucker gave a deprecatory cough. "I--I had forgotten it was there,"he said, nervously."Yes," breathed the widow, "I can quite believe that.""I was going to show you later on," declared the other, regarding hercarefully. "I was, really. I couldn't bear the idea of keeping a secretfrom you long."Mrs. Bowman smiled--a terrible smile. "The audacity of the man," shebroke out, "to stand there and lecture me on my behavior. To talk abouthis spoilt life, and all the time--"She got up and walked about the room, angrily brushing aside theproffered attentions of Mr. Tucker."Laughing-stock of Trimington, is he?" she stormed. "He shall be morethan that before I have done with him. The wickedness of the man; theartfulness!""That's what I thought," said Mr. Tucker, shaking his head. "I said tohim--""You're as bad," said the widow, turning on him fiercely. "All the timeyou two men were talking at each other you were laughing in your sleevesat me. And I sat there like a child taking it all in. I've no doubt youmet every night and arranged what you were to do next day."Mr. Tucker's lips twitched. "I would do more than that to win you,Amelia," he said, humbly."You'll have to," was the grim reply. "Now I want to hear all about thisfrom the beginning. And don't keep anything from me, or it'll be theworse for you."She sat down again and motioned him to proceed."When I saw the advertisement in the Northtown Chronicle," beganMr. Tucker, in husky voice, "I danced with--""Never mind about that," interrupted the widow, dryly."I went to the hotel and saw Mr. Clark," resumed Mr. Tucker, somewhatcrestfallen. "When I heard that you were a widow, all the old times cameback to me again. The years fell from me like a mantle. Once again I sawmyself walking with you over the footpath to Cooper's farm; once again Ifelt your hand in mine. Your voice sounded in my ears--""You saw Mr. Clark," the widow reminded him."He had heard all about our early love from you," said Mr. Tucker, "andas a last desperate chance for freedom he had come down to try and huntme up, and induce me to take you off his hands."Mrs. Bowman uttered a smothered exclamation."He tempted me for two days," said Mr. Tucker, gravely. "The temptationwas too great and I fell. Besides that, I wanted to rescue you from theclutches of such a man.""Why didn't he tell me himself?" inquired the widow."Just what I asked him," said the other, "but he said that you were muchtoo fond of him to give him up. He is not worthy of you, Amelia; he isfickle. He has got his eye on another lady.""WHAT?" said the widow, with sudden loudness.Mr. Tucker nodded mournfully. "Miss Hackbutt," he said, slowly. "I sawher the other day, and what he can see in her I can't think.""Miss Hackbutt?" repeated the widow in a smothered voice. "Miss--" Shegot up and began to pace the room again."He must be blind," said Mr. Tucker, positively.Mrs. Bowman stopped suddenly and stood regarding him. There was a lightin her eye which made him feel anything but comfortable. He was gladwhen she transferred her gaze to the clock. She looked at it so longthat he murmured something about going."Good-by," she said.Mr. Tucker began to repeat his excuses, but she interrupted him. "Notnow," she said, decidedly. "I'm tired. Good-night."Mr. Tucker pressed her hand. "Good-night," he said, tenderly. "I amafraid the excitement has been too much for you. May I come round at theusual time to-morrow?""Yes," said the widow.She took the advertisement from the table and, folding it carefully,placed it in her purse. Mr. Tucker withdrew as she looked up.He walked back to the "George" deep in thought, and over a couple ofpipes in bed thought over the events of the evening. He fell asleep atlast and dreamed that he and Miss Hackbutt were being united in thebonds of holy matrimony by the Rev. Nathaniel Clark.The vague misgivings of the previous night disappeared in the morningsunshine. He shaved carefully and spent some time in the selection of atie.Over an excellent breakfast he arranged further explanations and excusesfor the appeasement of Mrs. Bowman.He was still engaged on the task when he started to call on her. Half-way to the house he arrived at the conclusion that he was looking toocheerful. His face took on an expression of deep seriousness, only togive way the next moment to one of the blankest amazement. In front ofhim, and approaching with faltering steps, was Mr. Clark, and leaningtrustfully on his arm the comfortable figure of Mrs. Bowman. Her browwas unruffled and her lips smiling."Beautiful morning," she said, pleasantly, as they met."Lovely!" murmured the wondering Mr. Tucker, trying, but in vain, tocatch the eye of Mr. Clark."I have been paying an early visit," said the widow, still smiling. "Isurprised you, didn't I, Nathaniel?""You did," said Mr. Clark, in an unearthly voice."We got talking about last night," continued the widow, "and Nathanielstarted pleading with me to give him another chance. I suppose that I amsofthearted, but he was so miserable--You were never so miserable inyour life before, were you, Nathaniel?""Never," said Mr. Clark, in the same strange voice."He was so wretched that at last I gave way," said Mrs. Bowman, with asimper. "Poor fellow, it was such a shock to him that he hasn't got backhis cheerfulness yet."Mr. Tucker said, "Indeed!""He'll be all right soon," said Mrs. Bowman, in confidential tones. "Weare on the way to put our banns up, and once that is done he will feelsafe. You are not really afraid of losing me again, are you, Nathaniel?"Mr. Clark shook his head, and, meeting the eye of Mr. Tucker in theprocess, favored him with a glance of such utter venom that the latterwas almost startled."Good-by, Mr. Tucker," said the widow, holding out her hand. "Nathanieldid think of inviting you to come to my wedding, but perhaps it is bestnot. However, if I alter my mind, I will get him to advertise for youagain. Good-by."She placed her arm in Mr. Clark's again, and led him slowly away. Mr.Tucker stood watching them for some time, and then, with a glance in thedirection of the "George," where he had left a very small portmanteau,he did a hasty sum in comparative values and made his way to therailway-station.
A Love-Knot was featured as
TheShort Story of the Day on
Wed, Nov 09, 2022
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