The Lucky Piece: A Tale of the North WoodsPaine, Albert Bigelow
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The Lucky Piece: A Tale of the North Woods
Paine, Albert Bigelow
Adirondack Mountains (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Love stories
It had been a busy season at the Lodge, and Edith Morrison's face told
the tale. The constant responsibility, and the effort to maintain the
standard of entertainment, had left a worn look in her eyes and taken
the color from her cheeks. The burden had lain chiefly on her young
shoulders. Her father was invaluable as an entertainer and had a fund of
information, but he was without practical resources, and the strain upon
Edith had told. If for another reason a cloud had settled on her brow
and a shadow had gathered in her heart, she had uttered no word, but had
gone on, day by day, early and late, devising means and supervising
methods--doing whatever was necessary to the management of a big
household through all those busy weeks.
Little more than the others had she seen Robin during those last August
days. He had been absent almost constantly. When he returned it was
usually late, and such was the demand upon this most popular of
Adirondack guides that in nearly every case he found a party waiting for
early departure. If Edith suspected that there were times when he might
have returned sooner, when she believed that he had paused at the camp
on the west branch of the Au Sable, she still spoke no word and made no
definite outward sign. Whatever she brooded in her heart was in that
secret and silence which may have come down to her, with those black
eyes and that glossy hair, from some old ancestor who silently in his
wigwam pointed his arrows and cuddled his resentment to keep it warm. It
had happened that during the days when Constance had been absent with
her mother Robin had twice returned at an earlier hour, and this could
hardly fail to strengthen any suspicion that might already exist of his
fidelity, especially as the little woman in black had commented on the
matter in Edith's presence, as well as upon the fact that immediately
after the return of the absent ones he failed to reach the Lodge by
daylight. It is a fact well established that once we begin to look for
heartache we always find it--and, as well, some one to aid us in the
search.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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