The Forged Note: A Romance of the Darker RacesMicheaux, Oscar
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The Forged Note: A Romance of the Darker Races
Micheaux, Oscar
African Americans -- Fiction
Her brother sank into a chair, and gazed silently at nothing. He could
not think clearly of the departure. For days he had slaved for this day
of inauguration, and in his work, he had looked forward to her for much
help. Her encouragement, to be near her and to hear her voice daily, was
more to him than our pen can describe. He had felt that he could face
the mighty struggle (which he knew was now before him) with all the
strength of the strong; but now only, he fully estimated what she had
been to him, and what he had dreamed that she would be some day. And all
that, was now cast aside; in this one moment, his hope, his greatest
hope had been shattered.
His sister looked at him, and for a moment, almost fell on her knees in
sympathy. For she had not been blind. She had seen the change coming
over him, with no thought but to encourage him. Constance had faith and
patience and perseverance, and she had felt that everything would result
favorably in the end.
And then she had watched this girl during that spell of a short time
ago. She had seen her appearance change, as the result of some mystery.
Her eyes became dazed from loss of sleep, due to the worry and subtle
fear. It was then, with great cheer, that she saw it disappear later,
until she was the same again. Constance was happy then, because the
other was happy. She had been happier still, because she saw that,
without effort, the other was making her brother happy. He had fairly
thrived under it.
Constance felt that his lot was a hard one. She was confident that he
would be a leader of men, in a greater measure than he was at the
present. And when she had carefully observed the practical ability, as
well as the intuition and foresight of Mildred Latham, she had longed,
with all the craving of her heart, for a union between these two.
And, as she saw her brother now, with eyes dry and listless, her heart
went out to him with all of a sister's love. It pained her more, when
she realized that she could not help him. She would have to stand by and
say nothing, at the very time he needed her more than ever before. He
was too strong a man by disposition; he possessed too much will power,
and was too proud to ask or accept sympathy. It would all have to be
given in silence.
There was a knock at the door. She heard steps on the porch, and guessed
it was the people calling in regard to the Y.M.C.A. And it was only then
she recalled, that they had been invited to a supper. She called to him:
"Wilson, some one has called." She went to the door and admitted a dozen
persons, members of the church, and foremost enthusiasts in the
Christian forward movement.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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