Part 18 (1/2)
Miss Travenion rises quite late on the morning after the Bussey _fete_, dresses hurriedly, and runs down-stairs into the dining-room of the Townsend House, to find that she is at lunch, not at breakfast. There she meets the rest of the Livingston party, who have arisen before her, and are discussing, in semi-excited tones, a piece of news Mr. Ferdie, who has been up and out, has just brought in to them.
”Do you know, Erma, that your gallant of last evening has come to grief?” remarks Oliver in placid triumph after the usual salutations have been exchanged.
”It is an infernal shame!” cries Mr. Chauncey. ”They say Lawrence is ruined.”
”Ruined! How?” asks the girl, growing pale in spite of herself.
”Why,” answers Ferdie, ”as near as I can make out, not claiming to be a mining expert, though I have seen enough ore specimens to make me a geologist, since I have been here--this Tranyon, who is a wily old Mormon speculator, and whose company only claims a _part_ of Lawrence's mine, has just obtained an injunction to prevent him working _any_ of it. Consequently, our friend will not be able to extract any more of his ore, and, running short of money, will hardly have the sinews of war for a prolonged legal fight, and Zion's Co-operative Mining Inst.i.tution, which has plenty of shekels to hire legal talent and pack juries, will have a good deal the best chance. Anyway, that's the talk about town--I give it you as it comes to me.”
”But this injunction can be dissolved,” says Miss Travenion excitedly.
”Yes, if he puts up a big bond,” suggests Livingston, triumphantly.
”Oh, that will not be difficult. Everybody is Captain Lawrence's friend,” cries Erma, enthusiastically.
”Everybody is Captain Lawrence's friend until they have to put up their money to aid him,” answers Oliver, who seems to get angry at the girl's interest in the matter. ”Besides, everybody is not his friend; old Tranyon and I, for instance,” he sneers.
”And you link your name with that miserable Mormon?” cries Erma, a flush of defiance coming upon her face. Then she goes on rapidly: ”I should think you would be ashamed of yourself. This struggle, as I understand it, is that of Gentile against Mormon, and I stand up for my crowd.”
Here Ferdie cries ”Bravo!” and she covers her agitation by a little laugh.
To this, Mrs. Livingston, whose business had been to pour oil upon the troubled waters for the last day or two, says suddenly: ”Oliver, I am going shopping. Won't you accompany me?” and the young man, having some little idea that perhaps he is not advancing his cause very much by this battle, rises to go with her. As he goes, he cannot refrain from firing a parting shot.
He says, ”Ask Ferdie what mining men say about your friend's prospects.”
And so goes away, while Miss Travenion turns a face that is anxious upon Mr. Chauncey.
”Well,” says the boy, ”all agree that, though Lawrence owns the mine, he will be ruined for lack of money to grease the wheels of justice.”
”This shall not be!” cries the girl, in so strange a tone of voice that Ferdie gasps, ”What do you mean?”
”I mean that it shall not be!” answers Miss Travenion.
Then one of those ideas that are called Quixotic by the world, but which make it nearer to heaven, coming into this young lady's bright mind and generous heart, she looks at her watch and says, ”I am going for a walk.”
”Take me for an escort?” suggests Ferdinand, who is always happy to promenade the streets by the side of Miss Beauty, for he knows that it makes others envy him.
”No,” says the girl shortly, ”I am going alone. I have a little business errand,” and so departs, straight for the business portion of the town, her eyes big with purpose, though there are tears in them as she mutters, ”Alone in his trouble, but I'll help him defeat that villain Tranyon.”
Coming back from this journey, excited, dusty and tired, about half-past one, she says to her maid, ”Quick! A white gown--something cool--something breezy; I'm excited and warm!” and, curiously enough, trembles a little as she is a.s.sisted into a light summer toilet. Then inspecting her watch she murmurs, ”Two o'clock. He should be here;” next thinks, ”What shall I say to him? I must make this a business interview,” and racks her brain for some business to talk about.
A moment after blushes come to her, for she gets to thinking of her remark about fairy tales of the night before, and mutters to herself, ”Good heavens! Will he think me unwomanly?” and once or twice hopes he will not come, and looking at her watch finds it is after two, and is very much disappointed that he has not called.
So, after a time, getting very much excited over this matter, Erma goes down into the general parlor of the hotel, where she will be compelled to receive Harry Lawrence, for at that time the Townsend House had very few rooms _en suite_. But at the door, chancing to see a sparkling thing on the third finger of her left hand, she gasps, ”My!” and tears it off. Then she laughs, ”How lucky! He might have thought it an engagement ring, and Oliver's horrid fib a truth,” and so pockets the bauble, going to the window of the room to look out upon the sidewalk and see if her swain is in view.
She is interrupted in this by the gentleman himself, for Captain Lawrence comes in, a flush of excitement upon his brown cheeks, dragging with him by the arm Ferdie, who seems nervous also: as he well may be, for Harry is laughing like a frontiersman, and every now and then giving Mr. Chauncey little surrept.i.tious pats and nudges that from his athletic arm are agitating.
”I am glad you have come,” says the girl, ”for I have a little matter of business to talk to you about. When we were in Ogden the other day, you expended some money for me, which I did not have opportunity to return you. How much was it?” and she is very glad she has thought of this matter since Ferdie is here, and it seems to her to be a reason, if not a very plausible one, for her having asked the captain to call.
To her question Lawrence, after looking for a moment astonished, says, all the while keeping his grip on Mr. Chauncey, who manifests several times a desire to edge out of the parlor: