Paul Rundel: A NovelHarben, Will N. (Will Nathaniel)
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Paul Rundel: A Novel
Harben, Will N. (Will Nathaniel)
Fugitives from justice -- Fiction; Georgia -- Fiction; Ku Klux Klan (19th century) -- Fiction
“But--but we _are_ in such a disgraceful plight,” she faltered. “You
saw that cabin; you see my rags an' noticed Jeff's looks. You know what
folks that used to know us will say an' think. We thought we was so
smart. We was goin' to roll in money an' fine things an' prove that we
knowed what we was about, but misfortune after misfortune piled on us,
till--”
“That's all to end,” Paul said, with firmness. “Do you know what I did
to-day? As soon as I heard that Mayburn had put you in that dirty hut I
rode over to his home and rented the cottage next door for you, and
made a better all-round contract for Jeff--a contract under which he can
easily earn money.”
“You--you say?” she gasped. She laid both her thin hands on his arms and
flashed a hungry stare into his face. “You say you rented that cottage?”
“Yes, here is the key,” he answered, putting it into her hand. “You can
move in to-night if you wish, but I wouldn't till to-morrow if I were
you, for I have bought a complete outfit of new furniture in town and it
will be out early in the morning.”
“Oh, Paul, Paul--my boy, my baby!” she was weeping now. Violent sobs
shook her frail form from head to foot. Again he drew her into his arms,
and stroked back her thin hair from her wrinkled brow. “And that is
not all, mother dear,” he continued. “You've waited long enough for the
comforts and things you love. I shall supply you with everything--food,
clothing, and anything else you want. I am going to make you three
happy. I am able to do it, and it will be the joy of my life.” She
slowly dried her tears on the skirt of her dress. She looked at him, and
a glad, childlike smile broke over her face as he led her homeward..
“It all seems like a pretty dream,” she muttered. “I'm afraid I'll wake
in a minute.”
“Life ought to be that way always,” he said. “If it isn't beautiful it
is our fault. If anything goes wrong with us it is because we are out
of harmony with the laws of the universe, which are perfect. It is never
the universe that is wrong, but only our blind notion of it.”
“But, oh, Paul--” She was not capable of rising to his philosophy, and
she paused and drew herself sorrowfully from his arm. “You are doing
all this, but I know how most folks look at things. They say--some
do--that--that you are goin' with Ethel Mayfield, an' her folks are
proud an' well off. They are not the same sort of stock as me an' Jeff,
and if you tie yourself to us, why, may be she--”
An expression of inner pain rose to the surface of his face. “People
are apt to make mistakes,” he said, awkwardly, and he forced a little
misleading laugh. “It is true that I have driven out with her several
times, but it was only because she needed an escort and her mother
wished it. She and I understand each other, in a friendly way, but that
is all.”
“So thar is nothin' in _that?_”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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