Crestlands: A Centennial Story of Cane RidgeBayne, Mary Addams
History
Crestlands: A Centennial Story of Cane Ridge
Bayne, Mary Addams
Kentucky -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
In spite of her loving little gesture, he still looked gloomy. "Oh,
these long, wretched weeks when I have so hungered for a sight of your
face and the sound of your voice!" he presently exclaimed. "And now
when I am at last alone with you, you appoint boundaries and limits,
and place restrictions upon my walk with you!" and he grasped her hand
in a tighter clasp and looked at her somewhat sternly. "Oh, my
darling," he broke off, as she turned a wistful, tearful gaze upon him,
"forgive my harsh words," and he gathered her into his arms and kissed
her tenderly. "It is only because I love you so passionately, my life,
my sweetest one. Won't you speak to me, dearest?" he asked, as she
continued silent.
"'Speech is silver, silence is golden,' according to some wise
authority," Betsy at last said meaningly and rather reproachfully,
although she smiled faintly and looked at him with love-lit eyes.
"But the oracle, when he uttered that bit of questionable wisdom,
wasn't, I dare say, walking with his sweetheart after dreary weeks of
separation," said Abner, squeezing her hand. "If he had, he would have
preferred silvery speech to golden silence--or, rather, the utterances
of his beloved one would have been to him as doubly refined gold; and
I'm perfectly certain that his sweetheart could not have compared with
my piquant, peerless Betty. Besides, you declared awhile ago that you
had much to say to me."
"So I had, Sir Flatterer," the girl answered with a radiant smile, her
momentary sadness completely banished by his fond words, "but at the
present moment the delight of being in your improving society has
robbed me of all desire to talk. And what greater proof could I give
that I love you?" she continued with an arch glance. "It is surely a
mighty power indeed that makes a chatterbox like me to revel in
silence."
"How I love this dear old forest!" was Abner's exclamation presently.
"Every tree, every stick and stone, every foot of ground, seems sacred.
Do you not love it all, my darling?"
"I do indeed," she acknowledged. "In fact," she added laughingly, "I
think, by rights, this woods belongs exclusively to us and our love,
and I consider any one else guilty of sacrilegious effrontery in even
walking through its sacred precincts. But you don't appear in
especially radiant spirits, my friend, even though we are together in
our hallowed woods," she said presently as he walked silently by her
side.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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