Part 13 (2/2)
”I am sorry, Mrs. Beaseley; I could not possibly eat any dinner to-day,” Nelson's voice finally replied.
There was no tremor in the tone of it. Janice knew just how proud the young man was, and no matter how bitterly he was hurt by this trouble that had fallen upon him, he would not easily reveal his feelings.
She put her lips close to the crack of the door. ”Nelson!” she whispered. ”Nelson!” a little louder.
She heard him spring to his feet and overturn the chair in which he had been sitting.
”Nelson! it's only me,” Janice quavered, the pulse beating painfully in her throat. ”Let me in--do!”
He came across the room slowly. She heard him fumble at the key and k.n.o.b. Then the door opened.
”Oh, Nelson!” she repeated, when she saw him in the darkened parlor.
The pallor of his face went to her heart. His hair was disheveled; his eyes red from weeping. After all, he was just a big boy in trouble, and with no mother to comfort him.
All the maternal instincts of Janice Day's nature went out to the young fellow. ”Nelson! Nelson!” she cried, under her breath. ”You poor, poor boy! I'm so sorry for you.”
”Janice--you----” He stammered, and could not finish the phrase.
She cried, emphatically: ”Of course I believe in you, Nelson. We _all_ do! You must not take it so to heart. You will not bear it all alone, Nelson. Every friend you have in Polktown will help you.”
She had come close to him, her hands fluttering upon his breast and her eyes, sparkling with teardrops, raised to his face.
”Oh, Janice!” he groaned, and swept her into his arms.
CHAPTER X
HOW POLKTOWN TOOK IT
That was a very serious Sat.u.r.day night at the old Day house, as well as at the Beaseley cottage. Aunt 'Mira had whispered to Janice before the girl had set forth with her uncle in the afternoon:
”Bring him home to supper with ye, child--the poor young man! We got to cheer him up, betwixt us. I'm goin' to have raised biscuits and honey. He does dote on light bread.”
But Nelson would not come. Janice had succeeded in encouraging him to a degree; but the young schoolmaster was too seriously wounded, both in his self-respect and at heart, to wish to mingle on this evening with any of his fellow-townsmen--even those who were his declared friends and supporters.
”Don't look for me at church to-morrow, either, Janice,” the young man said. ”It may seem cowardly; but I cannot face all these people and ignore this disgrace.”
”It is _not_ disgrace, Nelson!” Janice cried hotly.
”It is, my dear girl. One does not have to be guilty to be disgraced by such an accusation. I may be a coward; I don't know. At least, I feel it too keenly to march into church to-morrow and know that everybody is whispering about me. Why, Janice, I might break down and make a complete fool of myself.”
”Oh, no, Nelson!”
”I might. Even the children will know all about it and will stare at me. I have to face them on Monday morning, and by that time I may have recovered sufficient self-possession to ignore their glances and whispers.”
And with that decision Janice was obliged to leave him.
”The poor, foolish boy!” Aunt 'Mira said. ”Don't he know we all air sufferin' with him?”
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