Books: Her Weight in Gold
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George Barr McCutcheon >> Her Weight in Gold
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The approach of springtime found Eddie in a noticeably run-down
condition. Friends and acquaintances began to remark that he was
"going to seed in a hurry," or "he's awfully run down at the heel," or
"I've never seen such a change in a man."
He was no longer the gay, whilom, inconsequent man about town. The
best proof of this was his utter lack of pride in the matter of dress
and his carelessness in respect to his personal appearance. Once he
had been the beau-ideal of the town. Nowadays he slouched about the
streets with a cigarette drooping listlessly between his lips, his
face unshaven, his clothes unpressed and dusty. There was always a
hunted, far-away look in his eyes.
Habitues of the Club began to notice that he was once more making
mathematical calculations on the backs of envelopes or the margins of
newspapers and magazines. No one pretended to explain this queer habit
of his, but they observed that his efforts represented sums in
multiplication. Occasionally, as if to throw them off the track, he
did a sum in subtraction, and there were frequent lapses into
simplified addition.
It was noted, however, that the numerals one, nine, decimal, two and a
cipher, invariably in that sequence, figured somewhere in every
calculation.
General Gamble could have solved the mystery, but he maintained a
rigid silence. In his heart, the old schemer nurtured a fear that
sooner or later Eddie would commit suicide or run away, either of
which would signify the return of Martha to the mansion she had
deserted for a cottage. And he knew that if she ever came back it
would be as a permanent visitor.
He encountered his son-in-law frequently at unexpected times and in
unusual places, and was never without the feeling that the young man
eyed him balefully. He could feel the intensity of that unwavering
gaze for hours after meeting Eddie. It was an ardent, searching look
that seemed to question his right to survive the day.
After such meetings, the General was wont to survey himself long and
fearsomely in the first mirror or show window that presented itself.
He began to wonder if he was in failing health. At times he thought he
discerned signs of approaching decrepitude, but his doctor assured him
that he was never healthier or happier than he appeared to be at this
particular period in his life.
Still, he could not shake off the rather ghastly feeling that Eddie
was secretly praying that his days were numbered.
One day at the Club he complained of a severe pain in his back, and
the very next day he was shocked to find his son-in-law dressed in
sombre black with a strip of crape around his arm. Immediately on
seeing the General in his usual state of health, Eddie solemnly
removed the band from his sleeve and, carefully rolling it up, stuck
it into his waistcoat pocket.
"I'm saving it for a rainy day," said Eddie with a cold-blooded smile.
"Good Heaven!" said the General, and at once felt the pain return to
his back.
"Have you seen Martha lately?" asked Eddie, tapping the bell on the
table.
"Oh, yes," said the General, settling a little deeper into his chair.
"She is looking remarkably well."
"Do you know what she weighs at present?"
"Of course not. She took the scales over to your house. Besides, I
don't care a hang."
"Day before yesterday she weighed two hundred and ninety-eight
pounds." His voice rose to a shrill screech. "It's a blamed outrage!"
He dropped his chin into his hands and went on muttering vaguely, his
eyes glued to the top button of the General's waistcoat.
"By Jove, she IS doing well."
"She can hardly walk. If she keeps on, she won't be able to see,
either. Her eyes are almost lost. I screwed up the courage to take a
long look at her to-day. She has lost her neck entirely and I haven't
the remotest idea where her ears are."
"I--I DO feel sorry for you, Eddie," cried the General, moved by
unexpected compunction.
Eddie rambled on. "Sometimes I sit down and actually watch her grow.
You can notice, it if you look steadily for a given time."
The two sat stiff and silent for many minutes. Eddie stole a sly
glance at his companion's ruddy face.
"You are a remarkably well preserved man, General," he ventured
speculatively. "Would you mind telling me your age?"
"I am seventy-one, Eddie, if it is any encouragement to you," said the
General eagerly.
"You look good for another ten years," said Eddie hopelessly.
"I am a little worried about my heart," prevaricated the General. He
meant to be magnanimous. Eddie did not look up, but his eyes began to
blink rapidly. "There is heart disease in the family, you know."
"Then maybe Martha has--er--has--"
"Has what, my son!"
"I forgot. She is only your step-daughter. I was worried for a moment,
that's all."
In the fall of the year, Eddie announced to his father-in-law that
Martha was tipping the beam at three hundred and fourteen pounds,
three ounces, and increasing daily. The General gave vent to an uneasy
laugh, whereupon Eddie, mistaking his motive, launched into a tirade
that ended with the frantic wish that the old man would hurry up and
die.
"Now, Eddie, don't talk like that! I have about made up my mind to do
something handsome for you and Martha. I have practically decided to
make her an allowance for clothing and so forth--"
"Clothing!" groaned Eddie. "She doesn't want clothes. What could she
do with 'em? I am the one who needs clothes. Look at me. Look at the
frayed edges and see how I shine in the back. There is a patch or two
that you can't see. I put those patches on myself, too. Martha is so
darned fat she can't hold a pair of trousers in her lap. Moreover, she
can't sew with anything smaller than a crochet needle. Look at me! I
am growing a beard so that people can't see my Adam's apple. That's
how poor and thin I'm getting to be. Now just listen a minute; I'll
give you a few figures that will paralyse you."
He jerked out his lead pencil and with the rapidity of a lightning
calculator multiplied, added, and subtracted.
"She is worth $72,403.20 to-day. What do you think of that? Prove the
figures for yourself. Here's the pencil."
"I don't care to--"
"The day of the wedding," went on Eddie wildly, "she weighed in at
$16,972.80, I think. See what I mean? She's bulling the market and I
can't realise a cent on her. She's gone up $55,430 in less than a
year. Suffering Isaac! Why couldn't she have weighed that much a year
ago?" He was so furious that he chopped off his words in such a way
that they sounded like the barking of a dog.
The General pushed back his chair in alarm.
"Calm yourself, Eddie."
"Oh, I'm calm enough."
"Martha will be a very rich woman when I die, and you won't have to--"
"That sounds beautiful. But don't you see that she's getting so blamed
fat that she's liable to tip over some day and die before I can find
any one to help me set her up again? And if that should happen, will
you kindly tell me WHERE _I_ WOULD COME IN?"
"You are a heartless, mercenary scoundrel," gasped the General.
"Well, you would be sore, too, if this thing had happened to you,"
whined Eddie. He sprang to his feet suddenly. "By thunder, I can't
stand it a day longer. Good-bye, General. I'm going to skip out."
"Skip out! Leave her? Is that what you mean?"
"Yes. She can always find a happy home with her mother and you. I'm
off to the--"
"For Heaven's sake," cried the General hoarsely, "don't do that,
Eddie. Don't you dare do anything like that. I--I--I am sure we can
arrange something between us. I'm not a stingy, hard-hearted man, and
you know it. You deserve relief. You deserve compensation. I am your
father-in-law and, damme, I'll not go back on you in your time of
need. I'll make up the amount you have already lost, 'pon my soul I
will, Eddie. Stand by your guns, that's all I ask."
A seraphic expression came into Eddie's face. "When?" he demanded.
"Immediately. Can you come to my house this evening? Alone, of
course."
"I should say I can!" shouted Eddie, growing two inches taller in an
instant. He took the package of crape from his pocket and threw it
into a cuspidor. Then he sighed profoundly. "Gad, have you ever felt
like another man, General? It's great."
As the General was past the point where he could risk saying another
word, he maintained a strenuous silence.
Eddie indulged in an expansive grin. "You asked if I could come alone.
That's the only way I can come. If you ever expect to see Martha,
General, you will have to come to my house to do so. Do you remember
that saying about Mahomet and the mountain?"
THE MAID AND THE BLADE
Over two centuries ago. Virginia, fair Virginia, in her most rugged,
uncouth state, yet queen of all the colonies, rich in the dignity of
an advanced settlement, glorious in prophecies and ambitions; the
favoured ward of England's sovereigns, the paradise of her royal
pillagers, the birthplace of American Freedom.
Jamestown was in the throes of a savage struggle, confined not to
herself alone, but spreading to the farthermost ends of the apparently
unbounded state. The capital fight was on, the contest waging between
the town in which grew Bacon's rebellion and Williamsburg, in which
William and Mary College had just been born, an infant venture that
seemed but a mockery in the wilds. Boisterous, boasting Jamestown,
since the rule of Berkeley and the unfortunate overthrow of Bacon, had
resumed a state of composure which she had not known in the five
preceding decades, and was beginning to look upon herself as the
undisputed metropolis of the wilderness. The impudence of
Williamsburg, with her feeble scholastic claims, was not even
condemned--it was ignored.
The crude fort at Jamestown held a merry garrison, the Governor having
impressed upon royalty across the sea the importance of troops in a
land where unexpected rebellions against authority might succeed the
partially triumphant uprising against Sir William in 1676. Bacon's
death in the October of that year had lost the fight which had been
fairly won, and it was wisdom which told the new Governor that troops
were essential, even in time of peace.
The commander of the garrison was Colonel Fortune. The number and
quality of his troops are not important factors in this tale.
Among the men were a dozen or more subalterns, fresh from England,
undergoing their first rough work in the forests of Virginia. In this
fledgling crowd were young Grafton, afterward a general; Mooney,
Vedder, Hoicraft and others, whose names, with those of their Virginia
companions went into colonial history.
Near the fort were the homes of the officers, the Governor's residence
being but a short distance down the rough, winding lane, which was
dignified by the name of street. Colonel Fortune's home was the
handsomest, the merriest of them all, a typical frontier mansion. A
mansion of those days could be little more than a cottage in these,
yet the Colonel's was far brighter, gayer than the palace of today. In
his house gathered chivalrous subalterns from English homes, stalwart
Virginians of inherited gallantry, the men and women from whom sprung
the first families of that blue blood which all Americans cherish
lovingly and proudly.
His board was more hospitable than that of the Governor, his favours
were coveted more eagerly even than were those of his superior. Stern,
exacting, yet affable and courteous, he was the idol of a people whose
hatred for those who ruled them had wrought ruin more than once. Mrs.
Fortune, a lady of gentle birth closely related, in fact, to a certain
branch of nobility, shared the power of her husband.
But there was a colonial queen whose reign was of more consequence to
the youth of Jamestown than was that of the august person across the
sea. She was queen of hearts, this daughter of theirs, airy Kate
Fortune. Daintiest maid in all the land, famed for her wit, her
follies, her merry loveliness, her dimples and her sunshine, she was
the wiliest tempter who ever laid unconscious siege against man's
indifference. The English officers called her an angel, the more
deferential Virginians moaned that she was a witch, yet would not have
burned her for the whole universe. On the contrary, they sacrificed
themselves to the worship of her craft. War and strife were forgotten,
the treacheries of the Indians were minimised, and a score or more of
dreamers, awake or asleep, found their minds so full of dainty Kate
that thought of else could work no means of entrance. In that year of
our Lord, Jamestown was a veritable cauldron of rivals, fair suitors
all, some bold, some timid, none hopeful.
Strange as it may appear to those who live these two centuries later,
there were no jealousies, no bitterness among them. In those good days
the favoured man's best friends were his beaten rivals. Kate's kingdom
was not large, was not glittering, but her sceptre was mighty. It was
made of tenderness and beauty.
For two months the Governor's nephew had been her most ardent admirer,
notwithstanding the fact that he had been in Virginia but sixty days.
His surrender had been instantaneous.
Ordinarily the nephew of the Governor, who was a lord of the realm,
might be considered a superior rival, but in this instance he was not
even feared. He had come to Jamestown with exalted ideas. He dressed
better, talked better and lived better, and he seemed to hold every
man in the colony in disdain. Friendly, courteous even to the lowest
soldier, he still gave forth the impression that he was condescending,
not alone to those beneath, but to those above him. That this scion,
this self-ordered perfect man, should have drifted to the colonies
from the drawing-rooms of London only to fall in love with Kate
Fortune seemed incredible.
Moreover, he had refused to wrestle in the contests at the fort, and
had failed to fight the man who had warmly called him a coward in the
presence of others.
Tales of his conduct in that and other exhibitions had been spread,
and the good-looking young officer eventually became a laughing-stock.
One day, however, he pulled the nose of an impudent lieutenant. When
the red-faced lieutenant insisted upon satisfaction with swords he
merely turned pale and ignored the challenge.
"I came here to fight the Indians, not to kill my comrades," he had
said, and a disdainful laugh followed, bringing a flush to his face as
he walked away.
Kate Fortune rather admired the easy elegance of the stranger, yet
despised his lack of courage, the story having come to her promptly
enough. She began to treat him coldly and he was at last driven to
feel that he was her most unwelcome suitor. One day he bluntly asked
her why she treated him so unkindly.
"Captain Studdiford, I will be frank with you," replied the girl. "How
can you expect me to admire a man who submits to the ridicule of a
whole company of men, not one of whom seems able to cope with him in
strength or in the experience of arms? I am the daughter of an English
soldier; that should be sufficient reason for my conduct. If I have
mistreated you it was because I could not help it." She saw a look of
pain come and go in his flushed face, hence the hasty apology, such as
it was.
"So I am an object of derision to you, as well as to them," he
observed, quietly. "I shall not intrude myself again, Miss Fortune. I
am brave enough to tell you, for the first time, and in the face of
your evident dislike, that I love you better than I ever dreamed I
could love a woman." He was turning away in apparent indifference as
he concluded this strange avowal.
Kate planted herself squarely before him, her pretty, perplexed face
twitching between a smile and a frown, wonder fairly popping from her
curious blue eyes.
"Isn't it cowardly to say that when you know how I feel? You are safe
in confessing something that you already know I cannot consider," she
said.
"I would rather not discuss it. You may treat it as a jest, as
cowardice, or what you like. I cannot control your treatment of the
best thing an honest man has to give a woman." It left the girl
standing on the tips of her toes in sheer surprise. She was at no time
a dignified queen, but she was an inquisitive one.
"But, Captain, you must not go away fearing that I--I shall treat
lightly what you have said to me," she murmured.
"Fearing? Why should I fear your ridicule more than that of others?
You are brighter, more bewitching, more tantalising than any woman I
have ever known--you are maddening--do you hear? Ah, I crave your
pardon for so far forgetting myself as to dwell upon a matter which I
should have forgotten in your displeasure. By the way, I should like
to tell you why I will not accommodate these young fools with a duel,
why I have controlled my natural desire to resent their insults. I
have fought one duel and I have killed a man. These men would have no
more chance than that man had. You may tell them so. Farewell!"
She watched his tall figure move from her dooryard and disappear in
the direction of the river. Then Kate sat down in the window and gazed
half regretfully toward the opening in the timber through which he had
passed.
It began to occur to her that Captain Studdiford was somehow the
superior of any man she had ever seen. She felt a joy that he had
fought a duel, although the thought that he had killed a man caused
her to shudder. With the shudder, however, came the relieved feeling
that he had not been the victim. Her face flushed faintly, too, as she
recalled his strange avowal of love.
That same night a half dozen young men, with as many maids, dropped in
to spend the chilly evening before the Colonel's roaring fires. They
were toasting apples and chattering gaily when Kate suddenly turned to
a young Virginian, and with taunting eyes, cried:
"Morton Trask, I know why Captain Studdiford would not fight a duel
with you."
"So do I," responded Trask. "Because he feared me."
"'Twas no such reason. He says he does not choose to kill anything but
Indians." A big laugh went up from the men.
"The fool! Did he say that to you?" cried Trask.
"He truly did; and, besides, he has fought and killed a man."
"Ho! Ho!" laughed Trask, disdainfully.
"Did he stab him in the dark?" questioned Farring.
"He lies if he says he fought aught save a boy," sneered Trask.
"Yet he pulled your valiant nose until it was red for near a week,"
said Kate, cheerily.
"Oh, would that I were at him--the coward!" cried Trask, white and
trembling.
"You can pull his nose when next you meet him, Morton, it is your
turn, you know," said Kate, laughingly, and Trask glared at the
burning logs in angry silence.
"Please forgive me, Morton; I did not mean to hurt you by recalling a
previous injury," cried Kate, and Trask's injury increased with her
contrition.
"I cannot see why you defend the Captain, Miss Fortune," ventured
Farring.
"Why not? He will not defend himself."
"But you surely cannot approve a coward?"
"Are you sure he is a coward?"
"I should consider myself one under the circumstances, I believe," he
replied, evasively.
"Would it not be cowardly to fight Morton Trask if he knew he could
kill him?"
"Bah!" came from the angry Trask.
"He could, at least, have given Trask satisfaction for an insult,"
said Varney. Kate wavered.
"That's true," she said; "he should have been a gentleman. Still, that
does not prove him a coward."
"I'll wager that I can prove him a coward," observed Lieutenant
Holmes. "And safely, too."
"'Twere wise to do it safely," supplemented Miss Fortune.
"One time at home we exposed a boasting captain, who would have had us
think him the bravest man on earth--"
"But that does not seem to be Captain Studdiford's object,"
interrupted Kate.
"True," went on Holmes, "but that has nothing to do with it. This
captain was one night approached by five of his fellow officers,
disguised as highwaymen, and despite his declarations that he had
fought dozens of such men, he ran like a hound, screaming murder all
the way. Why not test your captain's courage as we tested ours, Miss
Fortune?"
"In the first place, I could not be a very impressive highwayman, and
in the second place, he might shoot."
"You have plenty of men at your command who would serve as Indians for
such an experiment," speculated Varney.
"Egad! we all would!" exclaimed Holmes. "So you might!" she cried. "He
would be willing to kill you if you were Indians."
"We might as well give up the plan, for we could not force him to
leave town without a bodyguard," sneered Trask.
"Fie! That is easy. Miss Fortune could ask him to ride with her into
the forest and he would go blindly enough," said Holmes.
"I?" cried Kate, blushing to think of herself in that position after
Studdiford's proclamation. "I could not--would not do such a thing.
Prove him a coward, but do not ask me to help you." "Holmes is right,
and Miss Fortune should be willing to make the test. She is his
defender; she cannot refuse to satisfy herself of her error in this
harmless, yet effective way," announced big Farring, and every member
of the party laid siege against Kate's faltering opposition. The fun
of it all finally appealed to her and she rather timidly agreed to the
proposition. How could she ask him to ride with her after what had
passed between them? He would think her unwomanly and, strangely
enough, with that thought she began to feel that she must have his
good opinion. Yet she went, half dubiously, into the plot to prove a
coward of the man she was beginning to admire.
The details of the scheme were submitted by the men, and were as
follows: Kate was to ask him to ride horseback with her to "Big Fork,"
five miles through the forest, on some near afternoon, and the men
were to bedeck themselves as Indians, attack them, take her from his
custody and hurry her off into apparent captivity, whilst he trembled
with fear and inaction.
"But suppose he should happen to be disappointing and shoot somebody,"
objected Lucy Gaines.
"Oh, he must have no chance to do that," said Varney. "Miss Fortune
can induce him to discharge his pistols in some feat of marksmanship
and we will swoop down before he can reload them."
"For shame!" cried Kate. "How could that be a fair test of bravery? An
unarmed man against five brawny Indians! I'll have none of it. His
pistols must remain undisturbed."
"But--good heavens!--he may kill us all," cried Trask.
"Well, how else is he to prove his courage? You must take your
chances, gentlemen, with your coward. If he is a coward you need not
fear his pistols, though he had a dozen; if he is not, then you may
have to run from them."
"Allow us to capture you and offer him the privilege of fighting for
your liberty, choosing his own weapons. If he agrees to fight for you,
instead of taking his proffered freedom, we will leave the field to
him and you may call him hero. That is fair, is it not?" proposed
Farring.
"You will not hurt him?" asked Kate doubtingly.
"Hurt him? We shall not even catch him. He will leave you and fly for
his life!" cried Trask.
"I tell you now, gentlemen, if he stands the test and disproves your
taunts against his valour, my respect for him will be far more than
you can ever hope to inspire. Yet, after all, it will be a diversion--
it will be fun to see how he will act," mused the fair plotter.
It required all of Kate's courage and a dismal sacrifice of pride to
suggest the ride to Captain Studdiford, but she did it the next
morning, stopping him near the fort after having walked not thirty
feet behind for more than two hundred yards. She was a trifle insecure
as to her own valour in this preliminary step.
The rosiness of her cheeks might have been by others attributed to the
chill of the December morn, but she knew they were the flames from an
inward fire.
Captain Studdiford's heart thumped unusually fast as he looked down
into the piquant face and big blue eyes, which for the first time
since he had known her, wore a gleam bordering on embarrassment. They
were very soft and timid this morning--there was something appealing
in their tempting depths.
"May I not walk with you? I am going your way," were her first words
as she reached his side.
"Whither, pray?"
"Oh, to--" and here she blushed, for in truth she had no destination--
"to Anna Corwin's," she concluded in relief.
"But Mistress Corwin lives back yonder. How came you to be going this
way?"
"Did I say Anna Corwin?"
"If I am not deaf."
"Then I must have meant some one else; to be sure I did--how queer of
me. I am going to Lucy's. You cannot say, sir, that she does not live
in this direction. I'll not walk with you if you are bound to be
particular, though." Her little ears were very red.
"I beg you to forgive me and allow me to walk with you," cried the
Captain eagerly.
"I like that much better. No matter if I were going to Anna's and
chose a roundabout way, you should not be so impolite as to
remonstrate. As a rule, Captain, the men prefer the roundabout way."
"Be it miles I would walk it with thee," cried he, smiling at her
merry vanity.
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