City and town life -- Fiction; Southern States -- Fiction; Women -- Suffrage -- United States -- Fiction
"Bring the arnica with you, me dear-- I'm a wounded man! But I'm glad
you were at home. I've been nervous 'bout you all day; there's something
wrong in this town!"
* * * * *
All that had happened an hour ago. The Colonel was now peacefully
snoring with both feet bandaged and elevated upon pillows; and Selah was
waiting upon the veranda. She was evidently waiting. When a young and
beautiful woman is not waiting for a lover, she does not look so calmly,
sweetly indifferent. She is restless. She rises and looks at the moon.
Now the moon was looking at Selah, embroidering her white dress with
the fairy shadows of leaves, covering her face with a soft splendour,
glistening like a crown of light upon her dark hair. That was the
difference.
Footsteps sounded upon the gravel. The figure of a man, tall, slender,
regnant, was swinging up the walk. Selah did not move. She was that
fairest thing in a darkened world, the presence achieved when a woman
combines herself with silence, stillness, and moonlight.
The man sprang lightly up the steps.
"Hush!" she whispered, "don't ring the bell!"
"Selah!" he exclaimed, advancing to her. "What a vision you are!"
"Don't speak so loud," she whispered, motioning him to a seat beside
her.
"I didn't, darling. I'd as lief shout before an altar as lift my voice
in this chapel of the moon," he answered, taking her hand and lifting it
to his lips.
"Father is not well. He's just dozed off!" she exclaimed.
"If I know anything about such dozing, it would take an earthquake to
rouse him now!" he answered, laughing.
Selah sighed and withdrew her hand.
"If you do that, dear, I shall seize more!" he whispered, leaning
forward and slipping his arm around her waist.
"Don't, Mr. Sasnett!" she said so coolly that he drew back and stared at
her.
"'Mr. Sasnett,' and when did I cease to be Bob, pray? I've been Bob for
a good many years to you, Selah. What's the matter? Have you seen me
flirting with another girl? You have not! Have you heard of my calling
on Mike Prim? You have not! Has some one told you of the last murder I
committed? Certainly not! I haven't killed a man yet. Shall not do so
until he becomes my rival in your heart. Now what is it? Why am I 'Mr.
Sasnett' upon this beautiful moonlight night when of all times I should
be most tenderly Bob?"
"I can't explain," she answered.
"What is the matter with everybody in this town, especially the women?
It hasn't been an hour since mother came home and said _she_ couldn't
explain when I asked her why she was so upset."
"She was upset then?" asked the girl curiously.
"Most awfully! She got out of the car like a flying squadron of rage,
eyes blazing, face pale. And when I asked her what the trouble was she
said I'd know soon enough. Now what did she mean?"
"You'll know soon enough," repeated Selah, smiling.
"Good heavens! What's the game, Selah?"
"We've drawn trumps at last," answered Selah.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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