The Lilac Sunbonnet: A Love StoryCrockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
General
The Lilac Sunbonnet: A Love Story
Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
Fiction; Love stories
The minister paused, as if to gather strength for what he had yet
to say. He leaned his head upon his hand, and Balph did not see
that his frail figure was shaken with some emotion too strong for
his physical powers, only kept in check by the keen and
indomitable will within.
"Ralph, my lad," Allan Welsh continued, "do not think that I have
not foreseen this; and had jour father written to inform me of his
intention to send you to me, I should have urged him to cause you
to abide in your own city. What I feared in thought is in act come
to pass. I saw it in your eyes yestreen."
Kalph's eyes spoke an indignant query.
"Ralph Peden," said the minister, "since I came here, eighteen
years ago, not a mouse has crept out of Craig Ronald but I have
made it my business to know it. I am no spy, and yet I need not to
be told what happened yesterday or to-day."
"Then, sir, you know that I have no need to be ashamed."
"I have much to say to you, Ralph, which I desire to say by no
means in anger. But first let me say this: It is impossible that
you can ever be more to Winifred Charteris than you are to-day."
"That is likely enough, sir, but I would like to know why in that
case I am called in question." "Because I have been, more than
twenty years ago, where you are to-day, Ralph Peden, I--even I--
have seen eyes blue as those of Winsome Charteris kindle with
pleasure at my approach. Yes, I have known it. And I have also
seen the lids lie white and still upon these eyes, and I am here
to warn you from the primrose way; and also, if need be, to forbid
you to walk therein."
His voice took a sterner tone with the last words.
Ralph bowed his head on the table and listened; but there was no
feeling save resentment and resistance in his heart.
The minister went on in a level, unemotional tone, like one
telling a tale of long ago, of which the issues and even the
interests are dead and gone.
"I do not look now like a man on whom the eye of woman could ever
rest with the abandonment of love. Yet I, Allan Welsh, have seen
'the love that casteth out fear.'"
After a pause the high, expressionless voice took up the tale.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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