The Redemption of David CorsonGoss, Charles Frederic
General
The Redemption of David Corson
Goss, Charles Frederic
Society of Friends -- Fiction
His gentleness calmed her, and she answered: "I am sorry to leave a
place where I have been so happy. Oh! why cannot we settle down
somewhere and stay? I get so tired of being always on the wing. Even the
birds have nests to rest in for a little while. Are we never going to
have a home?"
"Nonsense, child! What do we want with a h-h-home? It is better to be
always on the go. I want my liberty. It suits me best to fly through the
heavens like a hawk or swim the deep sea like a shark. A home would be a
p-p-prison. I should tramp back and forth in it like a polar bear in a
c-c-cage."
Pepeeta answered with a sigh.
"Cheer up, child," he cried in his hearty fashion. "Your voice sounds
like the squeak of a mouse! B-b-be gay! Be happy! How can you be sad on
a morning like this? Look at the play of the muscles under the smooth
skins of the horses! Remember the b-b-bright shining dollars that we
coaxed out of the tightly b-b-buttoned breeches pockets of the
gray-backed Q-Q-Quakers. What more do you ask of life? What else can it
g-g-give?"
"It does not make me happy! I shall never be happy until I have a home,"
she said, still sobbing, and trying to conceal the cause of her grief
from herself as well as from her husband.
Nothing could have astonished the great, well-fed animal by her side
more than this confession. In all his life he had never heaved a sigh.
His contentment was like that of a lion in a forest full of antelopes.
But if he was fierce and cruel to others, he was at least kind to his
mate, and he now put his great paw around her little shoulders and gave
her one of his leonine kisses.
"You are as melancholy as an unstrung d-d-drum," he said. "I must cheer
you up. How would you like a s-s-song? What shall it be? 'Love's Young
D-D-Dream'? All right. Here g-g-goes."
And at the word, he opened his great mouth and stuttered it forth in
stentorian tones that went bellowing among the hills like the echoes of
thunder.
Pepeeta smiled at his kindness and was grateful for his clumsy efforts
at consolation; but they did not dispel her sadness. Her spirits sank
lower and lower. The light seemed to have faded out of the world, and
the streams of joy to have run dry. She sighed again in spite of
herself, and in that sigh exhaled the hope which had sprung from her
heart at the prospects of a new and sweet companionship.
She had divined the cause of her disappointment with an unerring
instinct. It was exactly as she thought. At the last instant, David's
heart had failed him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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