Kentucky -- Fiction; Self-actualization (Psychology) in women -- Fiction
After a day in the house she went to walk at nightfall, in the dusk of
the last twilight hour. People were assembled about the reading-lamps
of the firesides, for the shades were not yet drawn and she could see
into the houses. Little children were running before the firelight,
their heads just reaching above the low window sills. It had been county
court day and the town had been filled with busy people and the clatter
of pleasant noises. Albert had been everywhere about, talking with the
growers, and he had made a speech from the court-house steps. Forty per
cent of the farmers had already been pledged to the measure, he had told
her, and he would count eighty per cent an assured success, his eyes
forgetful of her when he made the declaration, his eyes resting upon her
without seeing. “You would eat his per cents from his hand,” now she said.
Footsteps came from the deeply shadowed pavement before her, going steps,
receding quickly. The drama of the darkening town was but lightly held
together, as if she could break it with a laugh. She walked briskly
through an upper street thinking of her friends and of Catherine’s going.
She had from each, she reflected, what each held out to her, and her
music counted richly for something. A long strange gloom was settling
over the rolling hills beyond the town where the fields and the pastures
lay, a gloom lit with the strange light from a low-bent horizon, vividly
burnt to orange and black-red. The town was the dark core around which
the fields centered. Albert was whispering his wish and his intention,
growing daily more sure and more restless. All day the town had been the
leaping, out-crying center of the farmed acres, the traders shouting
their musical incantations over the mounting prices of cattle and mules,
and Albert had summarized many goods as he had stood before her to make
his speech from the court-house, had set a hilltop upon the day and
upon the plowed fields. “In less than two weeks,” he had said the night
before, and the week was well begun. “The kind of lover you’ll want.”
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.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account