Lovers' Saint Ruth's, and Three Other TalesGuiney, Louise Imogen
General
Lovers' Saint Ruth's, and Three Other Tales
Guiney, Louise Imogen
American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
The lad hesitated. Finally, touched, or put upon his mettle by a
seeming confidence, he set out, with the greenback in his pocket
which Mr. Openshaw had given him. The latter, at this pause in their
colloquy, was made aware that he was suffering keenly. He had exceeding
self-control; his successes in life had sprung from it. But every
mastered nerve in his body, having already undergone so much, and
having so much to undergo, was humming like a beehive. He could not
stand still. He wandered about, meeting few pedestrians, across Water
Street, up Manning Street to Puddle Dock with its liberty pole, and
again past the graveyard, lingering wherever he could command a view of
the broad glorious anchorage, tragic with the exposed ribs of rotting
ships. Into the happier neighborhoods near, he would not penetrate;
this one had been happy too, when he was a child. There he saw but
visions of greatness gone, of comfort broken, and an hour ago, could
have laid his cheek to the old flaggings, and wept. But he had now a
terrible just purpose, and for that he must save his strength.
He was at the landing later than Rodolfo, who sat in a white wherry
ballasted with his purchases, the oars already in hand. Openshaw rested
his cane on the gunwale, and stepped quietly into the stern; they
backed out of the cramped spaces, and shot away. The surface of the
harbor was dimpling, little by little, with the great hidden swirls
of the turning tide; deceptively glassy between its deflected banks,
it gleamed like the thin ice which forms in November, and over which
boys send pebble after pebble, and laugh to hear them chirruping. But
Rodolfo had learned long since how to cajole the fierce Piscataqua;
and tacking artfully by St. John's Point, he labored through the end
arch of the great bridge, and gained the blue highway beyond. A train
thundered overhead. Two women in the footpath, leaning over the rail,
stared fixedly at the little boat, and from one sensitive face to
the other, and again at their contrasted attire. They were Rodolfo's
neighbors, and pleased that he had fallen in with a gentleman.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account