Part 25 (2/2)
”What's the matter?” he asked.
”As if you didn't know--I've been saying good-by to some of the dearest friends I've ever known. It's terrible. I just feel it's the end of the world--”
He started to say: ”Don't worry, Jennie darling, you have me. I love you!” The thought of it made the cold beads of perspiration suddenly stand out on his forehead. It was one thing to think such things--another to say it aloud to a girl with Jennie's serious brown eyes.
She seemed terribly serious this morning and far away somehow. Never had he seen her so utterly lovely. The mood of tender seriousness made her more beautiful than ever. If he only dared to crush her in his arms and laugh the smiles back into her eyes.
When he spoke it was only a commonplace he managed to blurt out:
”So you're really going to-morrow?”
”Yes--we've telegraphed the boys to come home from school at once and join us in Montgomery.”
He tried to say it again, but the speech turned out to be political, not personal.
”Of course Virginia'll stand by her Southern sisters, Jennie--”
”Yes--”
”It's just a few old moss-backs holding her. No army will ever march across her soil to fight a Southern State--”
”I hope not.”
”Of course not. I'll meet them on the border with one musket anyhow--”
The girl was looking out the window at the slowly drizzling rain and made no answer. He flushed at her apparent indifference to his heroic stand.
”Don't you believe I would?”
”Would what, d.i.c.k?” she smiled, recovering herself from her reverie.
It was no use beating about the bush, trying to talk politics. He had to make the plunge.
He suddenly took her hand in his.
She threw him a startled look, sat bolt upright, made the faintest effort to draw her hand away, and blushed furiously.
He was in for it now. There was no retreat. He gripped with desperate earnestness, tried to speak, and choked.
He drew a deep breath, tried again and only squeezed her hand harder.
The girl began to smile in a sweet, triumphant way. It was nice, this conscious power over a big, stunning six-footer who grasped her hand as a drowning man a straw. The sense of her strength was thrilling.
She looked at him with demure reproach.
”d.i.c.k!”
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