American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
'Ah!' said Wilhelmina, catching her breath with a half-sob under her
tightly drawn kerchief--'ah, mein Gustav!'
'Yes, you will soon see him,' I answered, bending forward to take the
rough little hand in mine; for I was a romantic wife, and my heart went
out to all lovers. But the girl did not notice my words or my touch;
silently she sat, absorbed in her own emotion, her eyes fixed on the
hilltops far away, as though she saw the regiment marching home through
the blue June sky.
I took the oars and rowed up as far as the inland, letting the skiff
float back with the current. Other boats were out, filled with
fresh-faced boys in their high-crowned hats, long-waisted, wide-flapped
vests of calico, and funny little swallow-tailed coats with buttons up
under the shoulder-blades; they appeared unaccountably long in front,
and short behind, these young Zoar brethren. On the vine-covered dike
were groups of mothers and grave little children, and up in the
hill-orchards were moving figures, young and old; the whole village was
abroad in the lovely afternoon, according to their Sunday custom, which
gave the morning to chorals and a long sermon in the little church, and
the afternoon to nature, even old Christian, the pastor, taking his
imposing white fur hat and tasselled cane for a walk through the
Community fields, with the remark, 'Thus is cheered the heart of man,
and his countenance refreshed.'
As the sun sank in the, warm western sky, homeward came the villagers
from the river, the orchards, and the meadows, men, women and children,
a hardy, simple-minded band, whose fathers, for religion's sake, had
taken the long journey from Würtemburg across the ocean to this distant
valley, and made it a garden of rest in the wilderness. We, too, landed,
and walked up the apple-tree lane towards the hotel.
'The cows come,' said Wilhelmina as we heard a distant, tinkling; 'I
must go.' But still she lingered. 'Der regi-mènt, it come soon, you
say?' she asked in a low voice, as though she wanted to hear the good
news again and again.
'They will be paid off next week; they cannot be later than ten days
from now.'
'Ten day? Ah, mein Gustav,' murmured the little maiden; she turned away
and tied on her stiff bonnet, furtively wiping off a tear with her prim
handkerchief folded in a square.
'Why, my child,' I said, following her and stooping to look in her face,
'what is this?'
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account