A Man: His Mark. A Romance: Second EditionMorrow, W. C.
General
A Man: His Mark. A Romance: Second Edition
Morrow, W. C.
Accident victims -- Fiction; American fiction; California -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction
Wilder turned and looked her full in the face. It was the way in which
he did it that sharpened her attention, for it was a look in which she
felt, rather than saw, a command.
“What became of them?” he quietly asked, but she felt that the question
required an answer.
“Oh,” she replied, her air of indifference veiling her determination
to hold control of the situation, “the vagabond fiddler was never seen
again. As for Ada--but that was infinitely better than to have lived a
life of wretchedness----”
“As for Ada?”
“She was dead in a month,”--this with a hard and defiant manner.
The young man rose from his chair, which he clumsily upset. In a
strangely uncertain, stumbling fashion he went to the front door,
and felt for the latch, as though blind. Then he changed his mind and
started for the rear door; but whatever purpose he had was interrupted
by his overturning a small table and sending the books and other
articles upon it clattering to the floor. Evidently startled and
confused by the noise and his own clumsiness,--though hardly more so
than the young woman, who was watching him in amazement,--he righted the
table with difficulty, and began to pick up the articles that had fallen
from it. Instead, however, of replacing them on the table, he put them
on the bed. His face was livid, his eyes were sunk alarmingly deep in
his skull, and he seemed to have become suddenly old and wrinkled. His
hands trembled, and weakness so overcame him that he sat down upon the
edge of the bed.
This state quickly passed, and the young man looked at his guest, who
had been compelled to turn her chair laboriously to observe him; and
when he saw the perplexed and distressed look in her face--seeing
nothing of the gratification and triumph that her distress partly
obscured--he smiled faintly and came firmly to his feet. “It must have
been an attack of vertigo,” he explained, feebly. But he continued
to look at her so steadily and with so penetrating a gaze that her
uneasiness increased. Had she carried her torture of him too far? Oh,
well, it would do him good in the end!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account