Wired Love, Ella Cheever Thayer [hot novels to read .txt] 📗

Celeste!” and Miss Kling sniffed in utter contempt of poor Quimby.

“Thanks for the compliment to my intellectual abilities!” said Clem with a mischievous look; then advancing towards her, he answered in his own frank, manly way, “And so you have found us out? But I trust you will not be offended with us? It is, after all, a trifle, and we said nothing about it merely because we wished to have a little mystery of our own! It was, as the newsboys would say, a lark of ours!”

“Lark!” repeated Miss Kling, drawing herself up stiffly; “young man, you will oblige me by not using slang in my presence!”

“Pardon me,” said Clem, good humoredly; “and in regard to the wire, blame me, if you must blame anyone. As you say, it was all my doing, and I induced Miss Rogers to allow the wire to come into her room.”

“And I, too,” added Cyn, propitiatingly, for Nattie’s sake, “I wished to learn the business, you know!”

But Miss Kling would not propitiate.

“Miss Rogers, I have no doubt, was very ready to be induced!” she said, with an effort at sarcasm. “I have heard of young females so much in love that they would run after and pursue young men, but never before of one so carried away and so lost to every sense of decorum, as to be obliged to have a wire run from her room to his, in order to communicate with him at improper times!”

This accusation, farfetched and ridiculous as it was, yet being uttered in the presence of Clem, overwhelmed poor Nattie, and she sank on the lounge, burying her face in her hands, at which Clem made a hasty motion, and then, as if aware any interference of his would only make matters worse, checked himself. But Cyn came to the front with striking effect.

“You ought, certainly, to be well informed on the subject of old females who run after old men!” she said, witheringly. “If one may believe what the Tor⁠—what Mr. Fishblate says!”

This shot told. Miss Kling turned livid with rage and mortification, and burst into a terrific spasm of sneezing.

“Miss Rogers,” she said, wrathfully, as soon as she recovered sufficiently to speak, “your conduct and that of your associates is such, that I can no longer allow you to remain on my premises.”

“Miss Kling, this is⁠—is very unjust,” said the agitated Nattie.

“It is against the wishes of her friends that she has remained as long as she has,” cried Cyn, hotly.

“Miss Kling, your proceedings are infamous!” exclaimed Clem, not able to contain himself longer.

Rather afraid to draw out Cyn any more, Miss Kling gladly seized this opportunity to attack Clem.

“Young man, what right have you to interfere?” she inquired, majestically.

Clem bit his lip. Sure enough, what right had he?

He glanced at Nattie where she sat, pale and disturbed, at the scene that threatened to end seriously for her, and then, obeying a sudden impulse, seized the key at his side, and called,

“N⁠—N⁠—N!”

Nattie looked up quickly, and while Miss Kling, who supposed he was wantonly drumming on the obnoxious instrument to exasperate her, vented her indignation, and also the outraged feelings caused by the Torpedo-wound inflicted by Cyn, still rankling, in a wrathful homily to which no one listened, for Cyn was watching Clem curiously, he wrote rapidly, his eyes on the sounder,

“She says I have no right to interfere. If you had not so changed towards me⁠—if I could hope you loved me as I have ever loved you, I would ask you to give me the right, and let me put this pernicious discredit to her sex on the other side of that door!”

As these words in dots and dashes came to her ears, Nattie, forgetting Miss Kling, forgetting everything, except that she loved Clem, and Clem declared⁠—could it be possible⁠—that he loved her, arose hastily, with a quick joy suffusing her face, and then their eyes met, and neither words or dots and dashes were needed. Love, more potent than electricity, required no interpreter, and that most powerful of all magnets drew them together. Before the face and eyes of the amazed Miss Kling, who had just delivered herself of a sentence intended to be crushing, and could not conceive why her victim should suddenly look so happy over it, he advanced to Nattie’s side, clasped her hand eagerly and tenderly, then turning to Miss Kling, said, while Cyn, surmising the truth of the matter, embraced herself fervently,

“Miss Kling, any farther observations you may have to make, you will be good enough to say to me, hereafter; and now, will you oblige me by leaving the room?” and he politely held open the door.

“What?” gasped Miss Kling, hardly believing her own ears.

“I cannot allow you to annoy Miss Rogers, the lady who is to be my wife!” Clem added; “and if she and I choose to have twelve telegraph wires, we will. Let me bid you good evening!” and he pointed significantly at the open door.

“Your wife! Miss Rogers!” echoed the discomfited Miss Kling, and glanced at the blushing Nattie, at Cyn, undisguisedly exultant, and at Clem, determinedly waiting for her to go out. This was something she had not expected, and it took her aback. So, with a sneeze, she drew herself up, gave a spiteful parting shot,

“Well, she has worked hard enough to get you⁠—had to bring the telegraph to her assistance!” and then retreated, before Cyn could retaliate with the Torpedo. Retreated to her own room, to nurse her wrath and envy, and to dream hopelessly, forever more, of that other self, never to come nearer than now!

The discreet Cyn, comprehending that Miss Kling had brought about that “crisis,” and that something had been said on the wire to the right purpose, followed her out, and left them alone. It is hardly necessary to mention, that as soon as the door closed behind Cyn, Clem took Nattie in his arms and kissed her. It was an inevitable consequence.

“And now explain why