Phoebe Deane (Romance Classic). Grace Livingston Hill
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Название: Phoebe Deane (Romance Classic)

Автор: Grace Livingston Hill

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 4057664559920

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СКАЧАТЬ always had his own way when he got ready for it.

      As the winter went by Hiram had more and more spent his evenings with the Deanes and Phoebe had more and more spent her evenings with Johnny, or the cradle, or in her own room—anything as an excuse to get away from the constant unwelcome companionship. Then Emmeline had objected to the extravagance of an extra candle; and moreover, Phoebe's room was cold. It was not that there was not plenty of wood stored in the Deane wood-house, or that there was need for rigid economy, but Emmeline was "thrifty," and could see no sense in a girl wasting a candle when one light would do for all, so the days went by for Phoebe full of hard work, and constant companionship, and the evenings also with no leisure, and no seclusion. Phoebe had longed and longed for the spring to come, when she might get out into the night alone, and take long deep breaths that were all her own, for it seemed as if even her breathing were ordered and supervised.

      But through it all, strange to say, it had never once entered Phoebe's head that Hiram was turning his thoughts toward her, and so, when he came and stood there beside her in the darkness he startled her merely because he was something she disliked, and she shrank from him as one would shrink from a snake in the grass.

      Then Hiram came closer to her and her heart gave one warning thud of alarm as she shrank away from him.

      " Phoebe," he said, boldly, putting out his hand to where he supposed her hands would be in the darkness—though he did not find hers, " ain't is about time you and I was comin' to an understandin' ? "

      Phoebe slid off the fence and backed away in the darkness. She knew the location of every apple-tree and could have led him a chase through their labyrinths if she had chosen. Her heart froze within her for fear of what might be coming, and she felt she must not run away, but stay and face it whatever it was.

      " What do you mean ? " asked Phoebe, her voice full of antagonism.

      "Mean?" said Hiram, sidling after her. "I mean it's time we set up a partnership. I've waited long enough. I need somebody to look after the children. You suit me pretty well, and I guess you'd be well enough fixed with me."

      Hiram's air of assurance made Phoebe's heart chill with fear. For a moment she was speechless with horror and indignation.

      Taking her silence as a favorable indication Hiram drew near her and once more tried to find her hands in the darkness.

      ' "I've always liked you, Phoebe," he said, insinuatingly. "Don't you like me?"

      " No, No, No!" almost screamed Phoebe, snatching her hands away. " Don't ever dare to think of such a thing again!"

      Then she turned and vanished in the dark like a wraith of mist, leaving the crestfallen Hiram alone, feeling very foolish and not a little astonished. He had not expected his suit to be met quite in this way.

      " Phoebe, is that you ? " called Emmeline's metallic voice, as she lifted her sharp eyes to peer into the darkness of the entry. " Albert, I wonder if Hiram went the wrong way and missed her ? "

      But Phoebe, keen of instinct, light of foot, drifted like a breath past the door, and was up in her room before Emmeline decided whether she had heard anything or not, and Albert went on reading his paper.

      Phoebe sat alone in her little kitchen chamber, with the button on the door fastened, and faced the situation, looking out into the night. She kept very still that Emmeline might not know she was there. She almost held her breath for a time, for it seemed as if Hiram had so much assurance that he almost had the power to draw her from her room against her will. Her indignation and fear were beyond all possible need of the occasion. Yet every time she thought of the hateful sound of his voice as he made his cold-blooded proposition, the fierce anger boiled within her, so that she wished over and over again that she might have another opportunity to answer him and make her refusal more emphatic. Yet, when she thought of it, what could she say more than " No " ? Great waves of hate surged through her soul for the man who had treated one woman so that she was glad to die, and now wanted to take her life and crush it out. With the intensity of a very young girl she took up the cause of the dead Annie, and felt like fighting for her memory.

      By and by she heard Albert and Emmeline shutting up the house for the night. Hiram did not come back as she feared he might.

      He half started to come, then thought better of it, and felt his way through the orchard to the other fence and climbed lumberingly over it into the road. His self-love had been wounded and he did not care to appear before his neighbors to-night. Moreover, he felt a little dazed and wanted to think things over and adjust himself to Phoebe's point of view. He felt a half resentment toward the Deanes for Phoebe's action, as if the rebuff she had given him had been their fault somehow. They should have prepared her better. They understood the situation fully. There had often been an interchange of remarks between them on the subject and Albert had responded by a nod and wink. It was tacitly understood that it would be a good thing to have the farms join, and keep them " all in the family." Emmeline, too, had often given some practical hints about Phoebe's capabilities as a housewife and mother to his wild little children. It was Emmeline who had given the hint to-night as to Phoebe's hiding-place. He began to feel as if Emmeline had somehow tricked him. He resolved to stay away from the Deanes for a long time—perhaps a week, or at any rate two or three days—certainly one day, at least. Then he began to wonder if perhaps after all Phoebe was not just flirting with him. Surely she could not refuse him in earnest. His farm was as pretty as any in the county, and every one knew he had money in the bank. Surely, Phoebe was only being coy for a time. After all, perhaps, it was natural for a girl to be a little shy. It was a way they had, and if it pleased them to hold off a little, why it showed they would be all the more sensible afterward. Now Annie had always been a great one for sweet speeches. " Soft- soap " he had designated it after their marriage. Perhaps he ought to have made a little more palaver about it to Phoebe, and not have frightened her. But pooh! It was a good sign. A bad beginning made a good ending generally. Maybe it was a good thing that Phoebe wasn't just ready to fall into his arms, the minute he asked her, then she wouldn't be always bothering around, clinging to him and sobbing in that maddening way that Annie had.

      By the time he had reached home he had reasoned himself into complaisance again, and was pretty well satisfied with himself. As he closed the kitchen door he reflected that perhaps he might fix things up a bit about the house in view of a new mistress. That would probably please Phoebe, and he certainly did need a wife. Then Hiram went to bed and slept soundly.

      Emmeline came to Phoebe's door before she went to bed, calling softly, " Phoebe, are you in there ? " and tapping on the door two or three times. When no answer came from the breathless girl in the dark behind the buttoned door, Emmeline lifted the latch and tried to open the door, but when she found it resisted her, she turned away and said to Albert in a fretful tone:

      "I s'pose she's sound asleep, but I don't see what call she has to fasten her door every night. It looks so unsociable, as if she was afraid we weren't to be trusted. I wonder you don't speak to her about it."

      But Albert only yawned good-naturedly, and said: "I don't see how it hurts you any."

      "It hurts my self-respect," said Emmeline in an injured tone, as she shut her own door with a click.

      Far into the night sat Phoebe, looking out of the window on the world which she loved, but could not enjoy any more. The storm of rage and shame and hatred passed, and left her weak and miserable and lonely. At last she put her head down on the window-sill and cried out softly: " Oh, mother, mother, mother! If you were only here to-night! You would take me away where I would never see his hateful face again."

      The symphony of the night wailed on about her, as if echoing her cry in sobbing, throbbing chords, growing fainter as the СКАЧАТЬ