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Read Ebook: Bylow Hill by Cable George Washington Yohn F C Frederick Coffay Illustrator
Font size: Background color: Text color: Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev PageEbook has 678 lines and 26486 words, and 14 pages"Not a bit more! not--a--bit!" "Yes!--yes--it was a problem! a problem how to harmonize two fine natures keyed utterly unlike. Leonard saw that. That is why he moved so slowly." "Hmm!" The lover stared away grimly. "I know something about slowness. I suppose it's a virtue--sometimes." "I think so," said the girl, caressing a flower. "Ah, well!" responded the other. "She has chosen a nature now that--Oh me!... Ruth, I shall speak to her mother! I am the only one who can. I'll see Mrs. Morris some time this evening, and lay the whole thing out to her as we four see it who have known one another almost from the one cradle." Ruth smiled sadly. "You will fail. I think the matter will have to go on as it is going. And if it does, you must remember, Godfrey, we do not really know but they may work out the happiest union. At any rate, we must help them to try." "If they insist on trying, yes; and that will be the best for Leonard." "The very best. One thing we do know, Godfrey: Arthur will always be a passionate lover, and dear Isabel is as honest and loyal as the day is long." "The day is not long; this one is not--to me. It's most lamentably short, and to-morrow I must be gone again. I have something to say to you, Ruth, that"-- The maiden gave him a look of sweet protest, which suddenly grew remote as she murmured, "Isabel and her mother are coming out of their front door." ISABEL There were two dwellings in the Winslow garden,--one as far across at the right of the Byington house as the other was at the left. The one on the right may have contained six or eight bedchambers; the other had but three. The larger stood withdrawn from the public way, a well-preserved and very attractive example of colonial architecture, refined to the point of delicacy in the grace and harmony of its details. Here dwelt Arthur Winslow, barely six weeks a clergyman, alone but for two or three domestics and the rare visits of Godfrey, his only living relation. The other and older house, in the garden's southern front corner, was a gray gambrel-roofed cottage, with its threshold at the edge of the sidewalk; and it was from this cottage that Isabel and her mother stepped, gratefully answering the affectionate wave of Ruth's hand,--Mrs. Morris with the dignity of her forty-odd years, and Isabel with a sudden eager fondness. The next moment the two couples were hidden from each other by the umbrageous garden and by the tall white fence, in which was repeated the architectural grace of the larger house. Mother and daughter conversed quietly, but very busily, as they came along this enclosure; but presently they dropped their subject to bow cordially across to the father of Ruth, and when he endeavored to say something to them Mrs. Morris moved toward him. Isabel took a step or two more in the direction of the Winslow elm and its inviting bench, but then she also turned. She was of a moderate feminine stature and perfect outline, her step elastic, her mien self-contained, and her face so young that a certain mature tone in her mellow voice was often the cause of Ruth's fond laughter. As winsome, too, she was, as she was beautiful, and "as pink as a rose," said the old-time soldier to himself, as he came down his short front walk, throwing half his glances forward to her, quite unaware that he was equally the object of her admiration. Though white-haired and somewhat bent he was still slender and handsome, a most worthy figure against the background of the red brick house, whose weathered walls contrasted happily with the blossoming shrubs about their base, and with the green of lawn and trees. "Good-afternoon, Isabel. I was saying to your mother, I hope such days as this are some offset for the Southern weather and scenery you have had to give up." "You shouldn't tempt our Southern boastfulness, General," Isabel replied, with an air of meek chiding. She had a pretty way of skirmishing with men which always brought an apologetic laugh from her mother, but which the General had discovered she never used in a company of less than three. "Oh! ho, ho!" laughed Mrs. Morris, who was just short, plump, and pretty enough to laugh to advantage. "Why, General,"--she sobered abruptly, and she was just pretty and plump and short enough to do this well, also,--"my recovered health is offset enough for me." "Oh! ho, ho!" laughed the mother again. Nobody ever told the Morrises they had a delicious Southern accent, and their words are given here exactly as they thought they spoke them. "My dear," persisted Isabel, rebukingly, "I mean such friends as Ruth Byington." Mrs. Morris let go her little Southern laugh once more. "Don't you believe her, General--don't you believe her. She means you every bit as much as she means Ruth. She means everybody on Bylow Hill." "I'm at the mercy of my interpreter," said Isabel. "But I thought"--her eyes went out upon the skyline again--"I thought that men--that men--I thought that men--My dear, you've made me forget what I thought!" They laughed, all three. Isabel, with a playful sigh, clutched her mother's hand, and the pair drew off and moved away to the bench. "He puts you in good spirits," said the mother, breaking a silence. "Good spirits! He puts me in pure heartache. Oh, why did you tell him?" "Tell him? My child! I have not told him!" "Oh, mother, do you not see you've told him point-blank that it's all settled?" "No, dearie, no! I only see that your distress is making you fanciful. But why should he not be told, Isabel?" "I'm not ready! Oh, I'm not ready! It may suit him well enough to hear it, for he knows Leonard is too fine and great for me; but I'm not ready to tell him." "My darling, he knows you are good enough for any Leonard he can bring." "Oh yes, on the plane of the Ten Commandments." The girl smiled unhappily. "But precious, he loves Arthur deeply, and thinks the world of him." "Mother, what is it like, to love deeply?" The query was ignored. "And the old gentleman is fond of you, sweetheart." "Oh, he likes me. What a tame old invalid that word 'fond' has grown to be! You can be fond of two or three persons at once, nowadays. My soul! I wish I were fond of Arthur Winslow in the old mad way the word meant when it was young!" "Pshaw, dearie! you'll be fond enough of him, once you're his. He's brilliant, upright, loving and lovable. You see, and say, he is so, and I know your fondness will grow with every day and every experience, happy or bitter." "Yes.... Yes, I could not endure not to give my love bountifully wherever it rightly belongs. But oh, I wish I had it ready to-day,--a fondness to match his!" "Now, Isabel! Why, pet, thousands of happy and loving wives will tell you"-- "Oh, I know what they will tell me." "They'll not tell you they get along without love, dearie. But ten years from now, my daughter, not how fond you were when you first joined hands, but what you have"-- "Oh yes,--been to each other, done for each other, borne from each other, will be the true measure. Oh, of course it will; but there's so much in the right start!" "Beyond doubt! Understand me, precious: if you have the least ground to fear"-- "Mother! mother! No! no! What! afraid I may love some one else? Never! never! Oh, without boasting, and knowing what I am as well as Leonard Byington knows"-- "Oh, pshaw! Leonard Byington!" "He knows me, mother,--as if he lived at a higher window that looked down into my back yard." The speaker smiled. "Then he knows," exclaimed the mother, "you're true gold!" "Yes, but a light coin." "My pet! He knows you're the tenderest, gentlest dear he ever saw." "But neither brave nor strong." "Oh, you not brave! you not strong! You're the lovingest, truest"-- "Only inclined to be a bit too hungry after sympathy, dear." Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page |
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