Colonel Carter's Christmas and The Romance of an Old-Fashioned GentlemanSmith, Francis Hopkinson
General
Colonel Carter's Christmas and The Romance of an Old-Fashioned Gentleman
Smith, Francis Hopkinson
Christmas stories; Virginia -- Fiction
None of these things disturbed Adam nor checked the flow of his
spirits. The cold would not reach his heart; there was a welcome
ahead--of eye and hand and heart. No word of him had reached her ears.
If she had forgiven him, thought of him at all, it was as across the
sea in some unknown land. Doubtless she still believed he had
forgotten her and their early days. This would make the surprise he
held in store for her all the more joyous.
As he neared the brow of the hill he began to con over in his mind the
exact words he would use when he was ushered into her presence. He
would pretend at first to be a wayfarer and ask for a night's lodging,
or, perhaps, it might be best to inquire for young Phil, who must now
be a great strapping lad. Then he began thinking out other surprises.
Of course she would know him--know him before he opened his lips. How
foolish, then, the pretence of deceiving her. What was really more
important was the way in which he would enter the house; some care
must therefore be exercised. If he should approach by the rear and
meet either Dinah or old Bundy, who must still be alive, of course
they would recognize him at once before he could caution them, the
back door being near the old kitchen. The best way would be to signal
Bundy and call to him before the old man could fully identify him. He
could then open the door softly and step in front of her.
Perhaps another good way would be to leave his horse in the stable,
and wait until it grew quite dark--the twilight was already
gathering--watch the lights being lit, and in this way discover in
which room she was sitting. Then he would creep under the window and
sing the old song they had listened to so often together, "Weep no
mo', me lady." She would know then who had come all these miles to see
her!
Soon his mind ran riot over the gown she would wear; how her hair
would be dressed--would she still be the same slight, graceful woman,
or had the years left their mark upon her? The eyes would be the same,
he knew, and the lips and dazzling teeth; and she would greet him with
that old fearless look in her face--courage and gentleness
combined--but would there be any lines about the dear mouth and under
the eyes? If so would she be willing to let him smooth them out? She
was free now! Both were--free to come and go without restraint. What
would he not do for her! All her future and his own would hereafter be
linked together. His life, his triumphs, his honors--everything would
be hers!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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