Kate’s lips grew white, and her limbs seemed suddenly weak, but she
strained her face against the window to watch the retreating figure of the
man who had almost been her husband. How well she knew the familiar
outline. How fine and handsome he appeared now! Why had she not thought so
before? Were her eyes blind, or had she been under some strange
enchantment? Why had she not known that her happiness lay in the way that
had been marked out for her? Well, at least she knew it now.
She sat all day by that window and watched. She professed to have no
appetite when pressed to come to the table, though she permitted herself
to languidly consume the bountiful tray of good things that was brought
her, but her eyes were on the street. She was watching to see if David
would pass that way again. But though she watched until the sun went down
and dusk sifted through the streets, she saw no sign nor heard the sound
of his footsteps. Then she hastened up to her room, which faced upon the
street also, and there, wrapped in blankets she sat in the cold frosty
air, waiting and listening. And while she watched she was thinking bitter
feverish thoughts. She heard Harry Temple knock and knew that he was told
that she was not feeling well and had retired early. She watched him pause
on the stoop thoughtfully as if considering what to do with the time thus
unexpectedly thrown upon his hands, then saw him saunter up the street
unconcernedly, and she wondered idly where he would go, and what he would
do.
It grew late, even for New York. One by one the lights in the houses along
the street went out, and all was quiet. She drew back from the window at
last, weary with excitement and thinking, and lay down on the bed, but she
could not sleep. The window was open and her ears were on the alert, and
by and by there came the distant echo of feet ringing on the pavement.
Some one was coming. She sprang up. She felt sure he was coming. Yes,
there were two men. They were coming back together. She could hear their
voices. She fancied she heard David’s long before it was possible to
distinguish any words. She leaned far out of her upper window till she
could discern dim forms under the starlight, and then just as they were
under the window she distinctly heard David say:
“There is no doubt but we shall win. The right is on our side, and it is
the march of progress. Some of the best men in Congress are with us, and
now that we are to have your influence I do not feel afraid of the issue.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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