Project Gutenberg Complete Works of Winston ChurchillChurchill, Winston
General
Project Gutenberg Complete Works of Winston Churchill
Churchill, Winston
American fiction
"Damn the Rebels!" he began. "They've driven his Lordship away. I hope
his Majesty will hang every mother's son of 'em. All pleasure of life is
gone, and they've folly enough to think they can resist the fleet. And
the worst of it is," cried he, "the worst of it is, I'm forced to smirk
to them, and give good gold to their government." Seeing that my father
did not answer, he asked: "Have you joined the Highlanders? You were
always for fighting."
"I'm to be at Cherokee Ford on the twentieth," said my father. "We're to
scalp the redskins and Cameron, though 'tis not known."
"Cameron!" shrieked the gentleman. "But that's the other side, man!
Against his Majesty?"
"One side or t'other," said my father, "'tis all one against Alec
Cameron."
The gentleman looked at my father with something like terror in his eyes.
"You'll never forgive Cameron," he said.
"I'll no forgive anybody who does me a wrong," said my father.
"And where have you been all these years, Alec?" he asked presently.
"Since you went off with--"
"I've been in the mountains, leading a pure life," said my father. "And
we'll speak of nothing, if you please, that's gone by."
"And what will you have me do?" said the gentleman, helplessly.
"Little enough," said my father. "Keep the lad till I come again. He's
quiet. He'll no trouble you greatly. Davy, this is Mr. Temple. You're
to stay with him till I come again."
"Come here, lad," said the gentleman, and he peered into my face.
"You'll not resemble your mother."
"He'll resemble no one," said my father, shortly.
"Good-by, Davy. Keep this till I come again." And he gave me the parcel
made of my mother's gown. Then he lifted me in his strong arms and
kissed me, and strode out of the house. We listened in silence as he
went down the steps, and until his footsteps died away on the path. Then
the gentleman rose and pulled a cord hastily. The negro came in.
"Put the lad to bed, Breed," said he.
"Whah, suh?"
"Oh, anywhere," said the master. He turned to me.
"I'll be better able to talk to you in the morning, David," said he.
I followed the old servant up the great stairs, gulping down a sob that
would rise, and clutching my mother's gown tight under my arm. Had my
father left me alone in our cabin for a fortnight, I should not have
minded. But here, in this strange house, amid such strange surroundings,
I was heartbroken. The old negro was very kind. He led me into a little
bedroom, and placing the candle on a polished dresser, he regarded me
with sympathy.
"So you're Miss Lizbeth's boy," said he. "An' she dade. An' Marse Alec
rough an' hard es though he been bo'n in de woods. Honey, ol' Breed'll
tek care ob you. I'll git you one o' dem night rails Marse Nick has, and
some ob his'n close in de mawnin'."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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