Christian Science -- Fiction; People with disabilities -- Fiction
When she came back, instead of a tear-stained face, Moultrie saw one of
such radiance that her beauty seemed dazzling. Where could be found
such tints of colouring, such luminous depths in eyes, such tendrils of
curling hair, such a flash of teeth, such vivid lips, and such a
speaking smile? As he bent to receive her foot in his hand, he trembled
through all his frame, and, as he felt her light spring to her mare’s
back, he would not have been at all surprised to discover that she had
simply floated upward and vanished from his earthly sight to join her
winged kindred. But, as she gathered up her reins and watched him
mount, it was a very businesslike angel who spoke to him, and one whose
brain, if the truth must be told, was full of turpentine.
"Now, let’s explore," she said. "I have paid my respects to the shrine
of my forefathers, now let’s see what I have to sell my turpentine
farmers."
"Your what?" asked the man, with the amused smile a man saves for the
pretty woman who talks business.
"I am going to sell the orchard turpentine rights of Guildford to get
money for building," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
"And I was thinking of you in a white robe playing a harp!" he said,
with a groan.
"I often wear a white robe, and I play a harp quite commendably,
considering that I have studied it since I was nine years old, but when
I am working, I don’t wear my wings. They get in my way."
Carolina by instinct rode to an elevation which commanded a view of the
pine forests of Guildford.
"How much do I own?" she asked.
"As far as you can see in that direction. Over here your property runs
into ours just where you see that broad gap."
"Why don’t you rebuild Sunnymede?"
"No money!" he said, with a shrug.
"You have plenty of fallen timber and acres of stumpage to sell to the
patent turpentine people."
"I don’t know. I have never heard it discussed. We wouldn’t sell to
Yankees. We feel that we wouldn’t have come to grief with the terrapin
affair if we had been dealing with Southerners."
"Who are there to discuss? Who owns it with you?" asked Carolina,
calmly ignoring the absurdity of his remarks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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