The Whip Hand: A Tale of the Pine CountryMerwin, Samuel
General
The Whip Hand: A Tale of the Pine Country
Merwin, Samuel
Great Lakes Region (North America) -- Fiction; Love stories; Lumber trade -- Fiction
After an insufferable evening he tried again to see her, and again it
was accomplished only by maneuvering.
“Margaret,” he said, when he had drawn her into the corner of the
emptying room, “tell me what it means. What's the matter?”
She looked at him and slowly shook her head. “Nothing,” she replied;
“nothing at all.”
“Did you get my letters?”
She nodded.
“I didn't know--you didn't answer. Why didn't you write, Margaret?”
No answer.
“Won't you tell me? I've come a long way to ask you.”
“I--why, I just couldn't.”
“Didn't you have anything to say to me?”
“No, I don't believe I did.”
“And have you nothing to say to me now?”
A long, long silence. Then this from Miss Davies:
“Oh, please don't now. It's very late--and I'm tired.”
“But when am I to see you?” he broke out impatiently.
“Oh, there will be plenty of time. But not to-night--please. You aren't
going away before morning.”
“I am here only for a day or so. I--I am down East on--on business.” He
had quailed again. “I just stopped off here.”
“Oh, you just happened to come?”
“No, I meant to come--I had to, I couldn't stay away. It's a long time
since I've seen you, Margaret.
“I know. You called in Evanston, didn't you? Mrs. Bigelow wrote me that
you had taken George. How is he doing?”
“Well. But when can I talk with you--alone somewhere? I can't say
anything when you seem so hurried.”
“Why--to-morrow, perhaps.”
“To-morrow morning?”
“No, not the morning. I'm going to climb the Terrace.”
“Why not drop that and come with me?”
“I can't. I promised Mr. Green. He's getting up a party. You--you might
come along.” He shook his head. There was another pause. “Margaret,” he
said then, “who is Mr. Green?”
“He's a Boston man.”
“Is he--is he----?”
Some one was looking for Miss Davies. “She's in the card-room, I think,”
said a voice.
“Here I am. I'll be there directly.”
“Wait, Margaret. Do you plan to get back for lunch?”
“Yes--I don't think we're going to take any with us.”
“Then I'll order a carriage for two o'clock, and we'll drive.”
“Well----”
“Of course”--and every word he uttered sounded like “Mr. Green--Mr.
Green”--“of course, if you'd rather not------”
“Oh, no--thank you very much. I'd enjoy going. At two, did you say?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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