Islands -- Fiction; Love stories; New England -- Fiction; Swindlers and swindling -- Fiction
For a time they silently scanned the peaceful picture that lay before
them. The sheltered harbor across which the faint path of moonlight
quivered in the undulating ground swell that reached in from the sea;
the old mill sombre and solemn and barely outlined to the right; beyond
it Northaven with its scattered lights, and below them the few that
twinkled in Rockhaven. Not a sound reached them except the low wave-wash
at the foot of the cliff just back of where they sat. They were alone
with their hopes and troubles, their joys and heartaches. It was not a
time or place for immediate converse, and Winn quietly contemplated the
peaceful scene while Mona covertly watched him. To her he was an
unsolved enigma, and yet his earnest, honest brown eyes, his open, frank
way, and his half-tender, half-cynical speeches had been for many weeks
her daily thought. What oppressed him now was an added mystery. She had
heard that most of his men working in the quarry had been laid off, but
not for worlds would she seem so inquisitive as to ask why.
And so she watched him, half hoping, half expecting, he would confide in
her.
"I have been out of sorts, little girl," he said suddenly, with an
intuitive feeling that she expected an explanation of his silence; "and
as I told you this afternoon I took a long tramp to drive my mood away.
It did not do it, but something else has, and that was your church
bells."
"I am very glad," she responded with sudden interest, "I wish they would
ring every evening."
"Yes," he continued, not heeding her delicate sympathy, "they have
carried me back to my boyhood and the country village near where I was
born. I wish I could go back to those days and feel as I did then," he
added, a little sadly, "but one can't. Life and its ambitions sweep us
on, and youth is forgotten or returns only in thought. If one could only
feel the keen zest of youth and enjoy small pleasures as children do,
all through life, it would be worth living. I should be grateful if I
were as happy and care-free as you are, Mona."
"I am not very happy," she answered simply. "Did you think I was?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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