Love stories; Poor -- Fiction; Violinists -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Molly lessened the speed. Turning squarely around, she looked keenly
at the scarlet, lovely face.
"Why are you blushing?" she queried.
Then like a flash she remembered. What a silly fool she had been!
Jordan Morse would give his eyes almost to locate this girl.
"I remember now who you are," she said, taking a long breath. "You're
Virginia Singleton."
Jinnie touched her arm appealingly.
"You won't tell anybody, will you, please? Please don't.... There's a
reason why."
"Tell me the reason."
"I couldn't now, not now. But I have to live with Lafe Grandoken quite
a long time yet."
"You ran away from your home?"
"Yes."
"Your father died the same night you came away."
"Yes, and--please, what happened after I left?"
"Oh, he was buried, and the house is empty."
Molly forebore to mention Jordan Morse, and Jinnie's tongue refused to
utter the terrifying name.
Presently the girl, with tears in her eyes, said softly:
"And Matty, old Matty?"
"Who's Matty?" interjected Molly.
"The black woman who took care of me. She lived with me for ever so
long."
Molly didn't reply for some time. Then:
"I think she died; at least I heard she did."
A cold shudder ran over Jinnie's body. Matty then had gone to join
those who, when they were called, had no choice but to answer. She
leaned against the soft cushions moodily. She was harking back to
other days, and Molly permitted her to remain silent for some time.
"You must have people of your own you could live with," she resumed
presently. "It's wrong for a girl with your money----"
Jinnie's lovely mouth set at the corners.
"I wouldn't leave Lafe and Peggy for anybody in the world, not if I
had relations, but I haven't."
"I thought--I thought," began Molly, pretending to bring to mind
something she'd forgotten. "You have an uncle," she burst forth.
Jinnie grew cold from head to foot. Her father's words, "He won't find
in you much of an obstacle," came to her distinctly.
"Does your uncle know where you are?"
This question brought the girl to the present.
"No. I don't want him to know, either. Not till--not till I'm
eighteen."
"Why?"
Molly's tone was so cold and unsympathetic Jinnie regretted she had
accepted her invitation to ride. But she need not be afraid; Lafe
would keep her safe from all harm. Had she not tried out his faith and
the angels' care with Maudlin Bates? However, she felt she owed some
explanation to the woman at her side.
"My uncle doesn't like me," she stammered, calming her fear. "And Lafe
loves me, Lafe does."
"How do you know your uncle doesn't love you?"
Thinking of Lafe's often repeated caution not to divulge her father's
disclosure of Morse's perfidy, Jinnie remained quiet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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