The White Rose of MemphisFalkner, William C. (Clark)
General
The White Rose of Memphis
Falkner, William C. (Clark)
Memphis (Tenn.) -- Fiction
“‘No, no, Lottie!’ I exclaimed as I moved toward her; ‘don’t go now;
remember I am going away next week, to stay a long, long time, and we
never may meet again. The fact of the business is, I think I never shall
come back to Memphis any more.’
“Her beautiful face grew a shade paler, but she soon regained composure:
‘Come along then, and let me show you my pretty birds,’ she said as she
moved toward a little latticed house that stood about fifty feet from
the summer-house. I imagined she was endeavoring to get my mind fixed on
other subjects than the one on which my thoughts were bent. I followed
her, and when we entered the cozy little house, the old parrot began to
laugh and chatter away.
“‘Lottie! Lottie! Lottie!’ he screamed, as he leaped down on her
shoulder. ‘Ah, ha! here we come. Lottie! Lottie! Lottie! ah, ha! here we
come!’
“‘How did he learn to imitate Doctor Dodson so perfectly?’ I asked.
“‘The doctor frequently comes to see me, and old Roderick has heard him
so often that he has caught his expressions.’
“A mocking-bird was singing in a cage that sat on the joist, and a dozen
canaries were making sweet music in their little silver-mounted houses,
while an old jackdaw was muttering to himself in a wire cage. Each bird
seemed to be making music for his own amusement, and on his own hook. It
was a combination of discordant sounds, which might have been good music
if they could have been induced to sing one at a time. It was a shrewd
maneuver of Lottie to decoy me to that place, for no man could talk loud
enough to be heard amid such an ear-splitting clatter as was made by
these birds.
“I concluded that she had resorted to this strategic maneuver in order
to avoid the disagreeable revelation which she had guessed I was about
to make. Then I became angry, and that increased my courage and made me
quite reckless, and I was determined to know my fate before I left. I
believed she could read my inmost thoughts, for I had never seen her
more embarrassed than she was then. The sun had entirely disappeared,
and a dark purple bank began to loom up in the East, indicating the
approach of twilight; while the face of the moon every now and then
peeped down through a column of white clouds that flew across the
horizon. As the dew began to dampen the flowers around us, a delicious
fragrance arose and filled all the air with its ravishing sweetness. I
took Lottie’s hand, and placing it under my arm, led her back to the
summer-house, and took a seat by her side. Old Bob came up and laid his
head on my knee and began to whine, and tried to wag his tail, but it
was too short. Notwithstanding the poor old dog was stone blind, it was
plain that he recognized me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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