Love stories; Southern States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"No," answered the major, "she doesn't even suspect anything. She thinks
it is the press of his work that keeps him away from her. The child
carries about with her that aura of transport that only an acknowledgment
from a lover can give a woman. I had hoped that he had seen some way--I
couldn't ask! I wonder--"
"Yes, Major," interrupted David quickly, and he winced as he spoke, "it
happened on the hunt Saturday evening. They climbed the bluff and watched
the hunt from a distance and I saw how it was the minute they came back
to the campfire. I saw it and I was just jolly happy over it even to the
tune of Phoebe's sulks--I thought it was all right, and I wish you could
have seen him. His head was up and his eyes danced and he gave up almost
the first real laugh I ever heard from him, when I teased her about
getting lost. As I looked at him I thought about the other, your glad
Andrew, Major, and I was happy all in a shot for you, because I thought
you were going to get back something of what you'd lost. It all seemed
so good!"
"There's been joy in the boy's eyes, joy and sorrow waging a war for
weeks, David, and I've had to sit by and watch, powerless to help him.
Yes, his very father himself has looked out of his eyes at me for moments
and I--well I had hoped. Are you sure he is going?" As the major asked
the question his brows knotted themselves together as if to hide the pain
in his eyes.
"Yes, he's going and he catches the next tramp steamer for Panama from
Savannah. I wish she would suspect something and force it from him. It's
strange she doesn't," answered David despondently.
"Caroline Darrah belongs to the order of humble women whose love feeds on
a glance and can be sustained on a crumb--another class demands a banquet
full spread and always ready. You'll be careful, boy, don't--don't diet
Phoebe too long!" The major eyed David anxiously across the light.
"Heavens, I'm your reconcentrado! Major, I feel as if I'd been shut up
down cellar in the cold without the breath of life for a year. It's only
three days and thirteen hours and a half; but I'm all in. I go dead
without her--believe I'll telephone her now!" And David reached for
the receiver that stood on the major's table.
"Now, David," said the major, restraining his eager hand and smiling
through his sadness, "don't try to gather your grapes over the phone! I
judge they are ripe, but they still hang high--they always will! Look at
the clock!"
David took one look at the staid old mahogany timepiece, which the major
had had brought in from Seven Oaks and placed in the corner opposite his
table, and took his departure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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