Love stories; Reconstruction (U.S. history, 1865-1877) -- Fiction; Southern States -- History -- 1865-1877 -- Fiction
Harrod and the carriage were at the station to meet me, and a rapid
drive in the cool night air soon brought us to the dear old house again;
and there on the broad piazza, in the broad, cheerful stream of light
from the hall, stood the judge, Vinton, and Pauline; and in a moment I
had sprung from the carriage and was receiving their warm and charming
welcome. Vinton was as happy in his quiet, undemonstrative way as man
could be, and the fond, proud light in his dark eyes as he looked down
at the graceful form leaning so trustfully upon his arm, was a sight
that made me envious. Presently Kitty came down; but not the Kitty of
old. Ah! little girl, what is it that has made those soft eyes so heavy,
so sad? What has taken all the color from those round, velvety cheeks?
What has become of the ringing, light-hearted laugh that came bubbling
up from heart-springs that seemed inexhaustible in their freshness,
their gladness? It is of no use to smile and chatter and prate about
your pleasure at seeing this antiquarian again. It is of no use to toss
your little head and look at me with something of the old coquettish
light in your eyes. You can't deceive me, little Kit; you are changed,
sadly changed. I, who have been away so long a time, can see what others
only partially notice.
During the evening we all gathered in the parlor, talking over the
events of my previous visit. Kitty had early tired of any share in the
conversation, and sat silent and absent, taking little heed of what was
said, though once or twice, when we were not speaking of Amory, she
rallied for a moment and made an effort. She had taken a chair near the
window, and was more than half the time gazing dreamily out towards the
road. At last Vinton said he must get back to camp, bade us all
good-night; his orderly came round with the horses, and Pauline went out
to see him off, everybody else just at that particular moment finding
something of extreme interest which detained him or her in the parlor.
It is odd how long it takes to say good-night under those circumstances.
Fully fifteen minutes elapsed before the spurred boot-heels were heard
going down the steps; then there was another slight detention,--cause,
unknown; time, three minutes and a half,--and finally the clatter of
hoofs as they rode off, twenty-seven minutes by the clock after the time
when the major had announced that he must be off at once,--couldn't stay
another minute.
When the hoof-beats had died away, Pauline came back to us radiant,
lovely; and even that tease Harrod could not find it in his heart to say
one word on the subject of the major's unaccountable display of
unmilitary tardiness, though he looked vastly as though he would like
to. Good-nights were exchanged, and soon after I found myself cosily
ensconced in my old quarters in the wing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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