Bransford of Rainbow Range: Originally Published under the title of Bransford in Arcadia, or, The Little EohippusRhodes, Eugene Manlove
General
Bransford of Rainbow Range: Originally Published under the title of Bransford in Arcadia, or, The Little Eohippus
Rhodes, Eugene Manlove
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Western stories
"Oh!" said Ellinor again. Then, after a long and deliberate survey, the
light of recognition dawned slowly in her eyes. "Oh, I _do_ know you,
don't I? To be sure I do! You're Mr.----the gentleman I met on Rainbow
Mountain, near Mayhill,--Mr.--ah yes--Bransford!"
"Why, so I am!" said Jeff, leaning on the saddle-horn. One half of Mr.
Bransford wondered if he had not been making a fool of himself and
taking a great deal for granted: the other half, though considerably
alarmed, was not at all deceived.
Miss Ellinor did not actually put her finger in the corner of her
mouth--she merely looked as if she had. "Ah!--Won't you ... get down?"
she said helplessly. "What a beautiful horse!"
"Why, yes--thank you--I believe I will."
He left the beautiful horse to stand with dangling reins, and came over
to the bench, silent and rather grim.
"Won't you sit down?" said Ellinor politely. "Fine day, isn't it?"
"It's a wonderful day--a marvelous day--a stupendous day!" said this
exasperated young man. "No, I guess it's not worth while to sit down. I
just wanted to find out where you lived. I asked you once before, you
know, and you didn't tell me."
"Didn't I? Oh, do sit down! You look so grumpy--tired, I mean." Rather
grudgingly, she swept the sewing basket from the bench to the grass.
Jeff's eyes followed the action. He saw--if you call it seeing--the
snipped threads on the grass, the yet unpicked bastings, white against
the peach-pink facing; but he was a mere man, hardly-circumstanced, and
these eloquent tidings were wasted upon his clumsy intellect: as had
been the surprising good fortune of finding Miss Ellinor exactly where
she was.
Nerving himself with memory of the Quaker Lady at the masquerade--if,
indeed, that had ever really happened--Jeff took the offered seat.
The young lady matched two edges together, smoothed them, eyed the
result critically, and plied a nimble needle. Then she turned clear and
guileless eyes on her glooming seatmate.
"You look older, somehow, than I thought you were, now that I remember,"
she observed, biting the thread. "You've been away, haven't you?"
"Thought you were going away, yourself, so wild and fierce?" said Jeff,
evading.--_Been away, indeed!_
Ellinor threaded her needle.
"Mamma _was_ talking of going for a while," she said tranquilly. "But
I'm rather glad we didn't. We're having a splendid time here--and Mr.
White's going to take us to the White Sands next week. He'll be down
to-morrow--at least I think so. He's fine! He took us to Mescalero early
in the spring. And the young people here at Rainbow's End are simply
delightful. You must meet some of them. Listen! There they are now--I
hear them. They _are_ playing tennis. Come on up and I'll introduce you.
I can finish this thing any time." She tossed the poor kimono into the
basket.
"No," said this unhappy young man, rising. "I believe I'll go on back.
Good-by, Miss Ell--Miss Hoffman. I wish you much happiness!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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