United States -- History -- Constitutional period, 1789-1809 -- Fiction
"No, no. We'll bury her in the flower garden the day before. Just one
year--please!"
"Oh, Unity, when you say 'please'!"
"This is August. I'll marry you twelve little months from now--please!"
"A thousand things may happen--"
"They won't--they won't. Don't you love Unity Dandridge? Then let her
live a little longer!"
"Kiss me--"
Unity did as she was bid. The sunlight left the hollow, but stayed
bright upon the hills beyond. It was August, but in a treetop somewhere
a solitary bird was singing. Nearer the earth the crickets and cicadas
began their evening concert, a shrill drumming in the warm, still air.
There was a scent of dry grass, a feeling of summer at its full. Dewy
freshness, tender green, mist of bloom, and a thousand songs were far
away, and yet upon the bench beneath the catalpa there was spring.
"The sun is setting," said Unity at last. "Let us go speak to Uncle
Dick."
"He'll be glad, I think. May I stay to supper? I want to hear Unity
Dandridge sing afterwards."
"Yes, Uncle Dick will be glad--he and Uncle Edward will be very glad. I
don't believe that Unity Dandridge will want to sing to-night. She'll be
thinking of that grave in the flower garden."
"No! She shall think of the sunrise at Greenwood--sunrise and splendid
roses and the million harps of heaven playing!"
"Oh!" cried Unity, "the sunrise at Greenwood should have been for your
brother!"
"Yes, for him and your cousin. Blind fate! He is worth a thousand of me,
and he sits lonely there in his house--and I am here!"
"There's no pure joy."
"When I tell him to-night, he will feel but pure joy for me--not one
thought of self, of the sunrise he might have watched at Greenwood! Oh,
Justice and her balances! There goes the last rim of the sun."
"I'll sing to you what you will--and you may stay as long as you
like--and I'll love you all my life. Oh! Now let's go find Uncle Dick."
Uncle Dick was easily found, being in fact upon the porch in his
especial chair, with the dogs around him, and in his hand a silver
goblet of mint and apple brandy. "Hey! What, what!" he cried, "has the
jade said Yes at last? Where's Edward? Edward, Edward! Kiss me, you
minx! Fair, I wish that my dear friend, your father, were alive. Well,
well, patience does it, and the Lord knows, Unity, he's been patient!
Oh, you black-eyed piece, you need a bit and bridle! Here's Edward!
Edward, the shrew's tamed at last! Such a wedding as Fontenoy will
have!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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