The Love Story of Abner StoneLitsey, Edwin Carlile
General
The Love Story of Abner Stone
Litsey, Edwin Carlile
Kentucky -- Fiction; Love stories
and veiled face, but through the thin obstruction I could plainly see
two rosy cheeks, and a pair of dancing eyes. Her tiny feet, likewise,
passed on without fear, and she disappeared. Heaven grant they may rest
as firm on every path through life!
Next came an aged woman, who moved with faltering feet, and always kept
one hand upon the iron fence enclosing the small yard, as a support.
Each step was taken slowly, and with trepidation, and I wished for the
moment that I was beside her, to lend her my arm. Some errand of mercy
or dire necessity called her forth on such a perilous venture, and I
felt that, whatever the motive be, it would shield her from mishap. And
so they passed, youth and age, as the day wore on. In the afternoon the
old gentleman re-passed, and I saw that his back was a little more
stooped, and he leaned heavier on his stick. For each day adds weight to
the shoulders of age.
And now a miserable cur came sniffing along the gutter on the opposite
side of the street. His ribs showed plainly through his dirty yellow
coat, the scrubby hair along his back stood on end, and his tail was
held closely between his legs. And so he tipped along, half-starved,
vainly seeking some morsel of food. He stopped and looked up, shivering
visibly as the cold wind pierced him through and through, then trotted
to the middle of the street, and began nosing something lying there. A
handsome coupé darted around the corner, taking the centre of the road.
The starving cur never moved, so intent was he on obtaining food, and
thus it happened that a pitiful yelp of pain reached my ears, muffled by
the closed window. The coupé whirled on its journey, and below, in the
chill, desolate grayness of a winter afternoon, an ugly pup sat howling
at the leaden skies, his right foreleg upheld, part of it dangling in a
very unnatural manner. A pang of compassion for the dumb unfortunate
stirred in my breast, but I sat still and watched. He tried to walk, but
the effort was a failure, and again he sat down and howled, this time
with his meagre face upturned to my window. The street was empty, as far
as I could see, for twilight was almost come, and cheery firesides were
more tempting than slippery pavements and stinging winds. The muffled
tones of distress became weaker and more despairing, and I could endure
them no longer. I quickly arose and cast off my dressing-gown and
slippers. In less than a minute I had on shoes, coat, and great-coat,
and was quietly stealing down the stairs. Tenderly I took the shivering,
whining form up in my arms, casting my eyes around and breathing a sigh
of relief that no one had seen, and thanking my stars, as I entered my
room, that I had not encountered my landlady, who had a great aversion
to cats and dogs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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