The Lilac Sunbonnet: A Love StoryCrockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
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The Lilac Sunbonnet: A Love Story
Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
Fiction; Love stories
For a long time Winsome and Ralph were silent--the empty interior
sadness, mixed of great fear and great hunger, beginning to grip
them as they stood. Lives only just twined and unified were again
to twain. Love lately knit was to be torn asunder. Eyes were to
look no more into the answering eloquence of other eyes.
"I must go," said Ralph, looking down into his betrothed's face.
"Stay only a little," said Winsome. "It is the last time."
So he stayed.
Strange, nervous constrictions played at "cat's cradle" about
their hearts. Vague noises boomed and drummed in their ears,
making their own words sound strange and empty, like voices heard
in a dream.
"Winsome!" said Ralph.
"Ralph!" said Winsome.
"You will never for a moment forget me?" said Winsome Charteris.
"You will never for a moment forget me?" said Ralph Peden.
The mutual answer taken and given, after a long silence of soul
and body in not-to-be-forgotten communion, they drew apart.
Ralph went a little way down the birch-fringed hill, but turned to
look a last look. Winsome was standing where he had left her.
Something in her attitude told of the tears steadily falling upon
her summer dress. It was enough and too much.
Ralph ran back quickly.
"I cannot go away, Winsome. I cannot bear to leave you like this!"
Winsome looked at him and fought a good fight, like the brave girl
she was. Then she smiled through her tears with the sudden
radiance of the sun upon a showery May morning when the white
hawthorn is coming out.
At this a sob, dangerously deep, rending and sudden, forced itself
from Ralph's throat. Her smile was infinitely more heart-breaking
than her tears. Ralph uttered a kind of low inarticulate roar at
the sight--being his impotent protest against his love's pain. Yet
such moments are the ineffaceable treasures of life, had he but
known it. Many a man's deeds follow his vows simply because his
lips have tasted the salt water of love's ocean upon the face of
the beloved.
"Be brave, Winsome," said Ralph; "it shall not be for long."
Yet she was braver than he, had he but known it; for it is the
heritage of the woman to be the stronger in the crises which
inevitably wait upon love and love's achievement.
Winsome bent to kiss, with a touch like a benediction, not his
lips now but his brow, as he stood beneath her on the hill slope.
"Go," she said; "go quickly, while I have the strength. I will be
brave. Be thou brave also. God be with thee!"
So Ralph turned and fled while he could. He dared not trust
himself to look till he was past the hill and some way across the
moor. Then he turned and looked back over the acres of heather
which he had put between himself and his love.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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