Mountain life -- Fiction; Tennessee, East -- Fiction
Thus it was he unexpectedly found himself plodding along the romantic
road he had so lately traversed, with a bag of “seconds” on his
shoulder,--“a veritable beast of burden,” he said sarcastically to
himself,--while Euphemia Sims’s light, airy figure loitered along the
perfumed ways in advance of him, her cloudy curls waving slightly with
the motion and the breeze; the fishing-rod was over her shoulder, and
on the end of it where the unbaited hook was wound with the line her
green sunbonnet was perched, flouncing like some great struggling thing
that the angler had caught.
It did not occur to him, so impressed was he with the grotesque office
to which he had descended and the absurd result of the interview, that
her errand to the mill must have anticipated some burlier strength
than her own to carry the “seconds” home, until as they turned an
abrupt curve where the high rocks rose on either side they met a man
with an axe in his hand walking rapidly toward them. He paused abruptly
at the sight of them, and the juggler laughed aloud in scornful
derision of his burden.
Then recognizing Ormsby he cried out cheerily, “Hello, friend, whither
bound?” So acute had his sensibilities become that he had a sense of
recoil from the surly mutinous stare with which his friendly young
acquaintance of the previous evening received his greeting. Ormsby
mumbled something about a fish-trap and passed on swiftly toward the
river. Swift as he was it was obviously impossible that he could even
have gained the margin and returned without a pause when he passed
again, walking with a long rapid stride, swinging his axe doggedly, his
hat pulled down over his brow, his eyes downcast, and with not even a
flimsy affectation of an exchange of civilities.
“Now, the powers forbid,” thought the juggler, “that I shall run into
any such hornet’s nest as interfering with this Corydon and Phyllis.
Surely sufficient vials of wrath have been poured out on my head
without uncorking this peculiar and deadly essence of jealousy which
all three of us cannot hope to survive.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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