The Old Stone House and Other Stories | Page 7

saw Juliet.
She was standing beside her father, and if ever she looked pretty it was
just then, for the day was warm and she had taken off her great hat so
that the curls flew freely around her face that was dimpled and flushed
with some feeling which did not allow her to lift her eyes. Had she
touched me? I thought so, and yet I did not dare to take it for granted,
for Colonel Schuyler was standing on the edge of the crowd, frowning
in some displeasure at the bare head of his provoking little betrothed,
and when Colonel Schuyler frowns there is no man of us but Orrin who
would dare approach the object of his preference, much less address her,
except in the coldest courtesy.
But I was sure she had something to say to me, so I lingered under the
tree till the crowd had all dispersed and Colonel Schuyler, drawn away
by her father, had left us for a moment face to face. Then I saw I was
right.
"Philo," she murmured, and oh, how her face changed! "you are my
friend, I know you are my friend, because you alone out of them all
have never given me sharp words; will you, will you do something for
me which will make me less miserable, something which may prevent
wrong and trouble, and keep Orrin--"
Orrin? did she call him Orrin?
"Oh," she cried, "you have no sympathy. You--"

"Hush!" I entreated. "You have not treated me well, but I am always
your friend. What do you want me to do?"
She trembled, glanced around her in the pleasant sunshine, and then up
into my face.
"I want you," she murmured, "to keep Orrin and Colonel Schuyler apart.
You are Orrin's friend; stay with him, keep by him, do not let him run
alone upon his enemy, for--for there is danger in their
meeting--and--and--"
She could not say more, for just then her father and the Colonel came
back, and she had barely time to call up her dimples and toss her head
in merry banter before they were at her side.
As for myself, I stood dazed and confused, feeling that my six feet
made me too conspicuous, and longing in a vague and futile way to let
her know without words that I would do what she asked.
And I think I did accomplish it, though I said nothing to her and but
little to her companions. For when we parted I took the street which
leads directly to Orrin's house; and when Colonel Schuyler queried in
his soft and gentlemanlike way why I left them so soon, I managed to
reply:
"My road lies here"; and so left them.
* * * * *
I have not told Orrin what she said, but I am rarely away from his
vicinity now, during those hours when he is free to come and go about
the village. I think he wonders at my persistent friendship, sometimes,
but he says nothing, and is not even disagreeable to--me. So I share his
pleasures, if they are pleasures, expecting every day to see him run
across the Colonel in the tavern or on the green; but he never does,
perhaps because the Colonel is always with her now, and we are not
nor are ever likely to be again.

Do I understand her, or do I understand Orrin, or do I even understand
myself? No, but I understand my duty, and that is enough, though it is
sometimes hard to do it, and I would rather be where I could forget,
instead of being where I am forced continually to remember.
* * * * *
Am I always with Orrin when he is not at work or asleep? I begin to
doubt it. There are times when there is such a change in him that I feel
sure he has been near her, or at least seen her, but where or how, I do
not know and cannot even suspect. He never speaks of her, not now,
but he watches the house slowly rising in the forest, as if he would lay a
spell upon it. Not that he visits it by daylight, or mingles with the men
who are busy laying stone upon stone; no, no, he goes to it at night,
goes when the moon and stars alone shed light upon its growing
proportions; and standing before it, seems to count each stone which
has been added through the day, as if he were reckoning up the months
yet remaining to him of life and happiness.
I never speak to him during these expeditions. I go with him because he
does not forbid me to do so, but we never exchange a word till