The Front Yard, and Other Italian Stories — John Shaqi
The Front Yard, and Other Italian StoriesWoolson, Constance Fenimore
General
The Front Yard, and Other Italian Stories
Woolson, Constance Fenimore
Americans -- Italy -- Fiction; Italy -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American
Pauline received her smilingly; Ash frowned a little. He frowned not at
his mother--she was always welcome; he frowned at her persistence in
standing so near Pauline, in dogging her steps. Mrs. Ash kept this up;
she sat near Pauline at lunch; she followed her when she strolled down
to the beach; she gathered flowers for her; in her India shawl and Paris
bonnet she hovered constantly near.
Only once did John Ash find opportunity to speak to Pauline alone. The
boys had at last carried off Griff by force to their camp; Griff was
willing enough to go, the "force" applied to the intellectual effort
necessary on the boys' part to detach him from a lady who wished to keep
him by her side. They had all been strolling up and down in the shade of
the so-called Basilica, amid the fern and acanthus. Left alone with her
son and Mrs. Graham, Mrs. Ash, after remaining with them a few moments,
turned aside, and entering the temple, sat down there. She was out of
hearing, but still near.
"Ride with me to-morrow, Pauline," Ash said, immediately. "I have not
had a chance to speak to you before. Don't refuse."
"I am afraid I must. I have an engagement."
"With Carew?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"I am very good-natured to tell you. I am going to Naples with him for
the day."
"You are going-- Damnation!"
"You forget yourself," said Pauline. Then, when she saw the look on his
face--the face of this man with whom she had played--she was startled.
"Forget myself! I wish I could. You shall not go to Naples."
"And how can you prevent it?"
"Are you daring me?"
"By no means," answered Pauline; and this time she really tried to speak
gently. "I was calling to your remembrance the fact that there is no tie
between us, Mr. Ash; you have no shadow of authority over my actions; I
am free to do as I please."
"I know you are; that is the worst of it," he said, almost with a groan.
"Pauline, don't play with me now. I have given up hoping for anything
for myself--if I ever really did hope; I am not worthy of you. Whether
you could make me worthy I don't know; but I don't ask you that; I don't
ask you to try; it would be too much. I only ask you to be as you have
been; as you were, I mean, during all those many weeks, not as you have
been lately. Only a few days are left when I can see you freely; be kind
to me, then, during those few days, and then I will take myself off."
"I mean to be kind; I am kind."
"Then ride with me to-morrow; just this once more."
"But I told you it was impossible; I told you I was going to Naples."
The pleading vanished from Ash's face and voice. "_I_ never asked you to
do that--to go off with me for a whole day."
Pauline did not answer; she was arranging the flowers which Mrs. Ash had
industriously gathered.
"So much the greater fool I!--is that what you are thinking?" Ash went
on, laughing discordantly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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