Tibby: A novel dealing with psychic forces and telepathyGilchrist, Rosetta Luce
Science
Tibby: A novel dealing with psychic forces and telepathy
Gilchrist, Rosetta Luce
Psychic ability -- Fiction; Telepathy -- Fiction
To a less determined man than Donald this might have been disheartening,
but he had firm faith in the efficacy of persistence, and though he
never annoyed Tibby with declarations of love, he made her ever
conscious of him as the considerate, attentive lover.
As for Tibby, she badgered, cajoled, teased, and tried his temper and
patience in the manner for which girls have been noted since the world
began. Why it is that the average girl delights in such actions has
never been satisfactorily explained, the parallel of such conduct being
found only in the cat playing with the live mouse.
With Tibby the feline nature seemed fully developed, and she toyed with
the victim in her claws most exasperatingly. Never consciously had she
given Donald reason to think, or flatter himself, that she cared for him
except as a good comrade with whom to pass the winter and summer of her
sojourn in this western land.
But when Tibby behaved worst there lurked a smile of conscious power in
the unrevealed depths of Donald’s gray eyes, much to the girl’s vexation
and discomfiture, while he remained outwardly unruffled. He had entered
the race to win, and his nature was buoyant and strong. Why need he be
discouraged? Physically strong, handsome, and athletic, he was possessed
of average ability, enjoyed a good income, and his future looked
promising. Why should he fail? Thus he reasoned.
A fortuitous chain of events had thrown Donald into Tibby’s society and
kept him in close communication with her until he felt that he knew her
better, appreciated more her real worth, of nature and character, than
any one else about her. She had challenged him to win her. He would make
it the business of his life to do so.
Mrs. Wylie’s change of plans had aided him in keeping Tibby in the
community, though had she gone away he doubtless would have followed
her. The bereaved woman shrank from meeting her society friends in
Forest City, and to go to the Pacific Slope was to put her in proximity
to her recreant husband, and—sadder to contemplate—his newly wedded
wife. And Elinor had listened to her brother’s persuasions to spend the
winter in their home. Thus, much to Donald’s satisfaction, Tibby had
remained to be his daily companion in this isolated region. The world,
with its modern pleasures, seemed far away from them. He need fear no
competitor while she remained here. For this reason Donald could bide
his time, free from anxious disquietude.
“How lovely the air is this morning,” cried Tibby one day in early
January as she stepped from the door of Mark’s home and looked across
the farm-lit plains to the brightening glory of the winter sun in a sky
of cloud-fleeced blue. The low-lying ridge of hills skirting the eastern
horizon gave the effect of a mural and fortress-crowned landscape, and
Tibby’s eyes glowed with pleasure as she gazed about her.
“You should not brave, bare-headed, even the winter’s mildness,” said
Donald, who had come over early to bring a message from Lissa.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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