Cumberland Mountains -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction
He was silent for awhile, and his words came with the weariness of dead
hopes when he began again. "Mebby, I oughtn't ter talk about sech things
with a young gal, but I'm an old man, an' thar hain't no harm in hit....
From the time when I used ter watch you two children go a-trapsin' off
in the woods together atter hickory nuts, thar's been jest one thing
thet I've looked forward to and dreamed about: I wanted ter see ye
married. I 'lowed--" A mistiness quenched the sternness of his gray
eyes. "I 'lowed thet, ef I could see yore children playin' round this
here yard, everything thet's ever gone wrong would be paid fer."
Sally stood silently at his side, and her cheeks flushed as the tears
crept into her eyes; but her hand stole through the thick mane of hair,
fast turning from iron-gray to snow-white.
Spicer South watched the fattening hog that rubbed its bristling side
against the rails stacked outside the fence, and then said, with an
imperious tone that did not admit of misconstruction:
"But, Sally, the boy's done started out on his own row. He's got ter
hoe hit. Mebby he'll come back--mebby not! Thet's as the Lord wills.
Hit wouldn't do us no good fer him to come withouten he come willin'ly.
The meanest thing ye could do ter me--an' him--would be ter send fer
him. Ye mustn't do hit. Ye mustn't!"
"All right, Unc' Spicer. I hain't a-goin' ter do hit--leastways, not
yit. But I'm a-goin' ter come over hyar every day ter see ye."
"Ye can't come too often, Sally, gal," declared the old clansman,
heartily.
* * * * *
Wilfred Horton found himself that fall in the position of a man whose
course lies through rapids, and for the first time in his life his
pleasures were giving precedence to business. He knew that his
efficiency would depend on maintaining the physical balance of perfect
health and fitness, and early each morning he went for his gallop in
the park. At so early an hour, he had the bridle path for the most part
to himself. This had its compensations, for, though Wilfred Horton
continued to smile with his old-time good humor, he acknowledged to
himself that it was not pleasant to have men who had previously sought
him out with flatteries avert their faces, and pretend that they had
not seen him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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