Dorothy South: A Love Story of Virginia Just Before the WarEggleston, George Cary
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Dorothy South: A Love Story of Virginia Just Before the War
Eggleston, George Cary
Love stories; Virginia -- Fiction
The young man was astonished and abashed. Under ordinary circumstances
he might truthfully have pleaded that the work he was thus laying out
for her was really and pressingly necessary. But Dorothy anticipated him
in that.
“Don’t tell me that these things are necessary, Cousin Arthur. I know
that perfectly well. But you know that I am not necessary to
them--except so far as the prescriptions are concerned. Aunt Polly can
direct the clothes making better than I can, and her maid, Jane, is
almost as good. So after I compound the prescriptions I shall go to my
duty at the hospital. I don’t think I like you very well today, Cousin
Arthur, and I’ll not like you at all if you go on trying to make up
things to keep me busy, away from the sick people. If you do that again
I’ll stop calling you ‘Cousin Arthur’ and you’ll be just ‘Dr. Brent’ to
me.”
“Please don’t do that, Dorothy,” he said very pleadingly. “I only
meant--”
“Oh, I know what you meant,” she interrupted. “But you shouldn’t treat
me in that way. I won’t call you ‘Dr. Brent,’ unless you do that sort of
thing again, and if you let me do my duty without trying to play tricks,
I’ll go on liking you just as much as ever.”
“Thank you, Dorothy,” he replied with fervor. “You must forgive me,
please. I didn’t want to expose you to this danger--that was all.”
“Oh, I understand all that,” she quickly responded. “But it wasn’t
treating me quite fairly--and you know I hate unfairness. And--why
shouldn’t I be exposed to the danger if I can do any good? Even if the
worst should happen--even if I should take the fever and die, after
saving some of these poor creatures’ lives, could you or anybody have
made a better use of a girl like me than that?”
Arthur looked at the child earnestly, but the child was no longer there.
The eyes that gazed into his were those of a woman!
XII
MAMMY
_W_hen Arthur Brent reached the “quarters” that morning he found matters
in worse condition than he had feared.
“The whole spot is pestilential,” he said. “How any sane man ever
selected it for quarters, I can’t imagine. Gilbert,” calling to the head
man who had come in from the field at his master’s summons, “I want you
to take all the people out of the crop at once, and send for all the
house servants too. Take them with you over to the Haw Branch hill and
put every one of them at work building some sort of huts. You must get
enough of them done before night, to hold the sick people, for I’m going
to clear out these quarters today. I must have enough huts for the sick
ones at once. Those who are well will have to sleep out of doors at the
Silver Spring tonight.”
“But, Mahstah,” remonstrated Gilbert, “dey ain’t no clapboa’ds to roof
wif. Dey ain’t no nuffin--”
“Use fence rails then and cover them with pine tops. I’ll ride over and
direct you presently. Send me eight or ten of the strongest young women
at once, and then get everybody to work on the shelters. Do you hear?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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