Part 31 (1/2)

”Uh-ah, good mawnin', Miss Beecham, good mawnin',” said Judge Wilson; and ”Good mawnin',” said Dr. Gregg.

”Good morning, Judge Wilson,” replied Mary Ellen, as she entered the car.--”Good morning, Dr. Gregg.” The gentlemen made way for her upon the shady side of the car, and lifted their hats ceremoniously.

”L'il late this mawnin', Miss Beecham, seems like,” said the judge, with no trace of resentment in his tones.

Dr. Gregg upon this morning began his customary reproach also, but it halted upon his tongue. ”Miss Beecham,” he said, ”pardon me, allow me--are you ill?”

For Mary Ellen, settling herself for her regular morning ride with her regular companions, all at once went pale as she gazed out the window.

She scarcely heard the kind remark. She was looking at a man--a tall man with a brown face, with broad shoulders, with a long, swinging, steady stride. This man was coming up the side of the street, along the path between the fence and the burdocks that lined the ditch. His shoes were white with the limestone dust, but he seemed to care nothing for his way of locomotion, but reached on, his head up, his eye searching eagerly.

Not with equipage, not mounted as a Southern cavalier, not announced, but in the most direct and swiftest way in his power had Edward Franklin come. Strong, eager, masterful, scorning the blazing sun, his reckless waste of energy marked him as a stranger in that place. He stopped at the gateway for one moment, looking up the path, and then turned swiftly toward the car as though called audibly.

As with a flash his face lighted, and he strode straight on toward a woman whose heart was throbbing in a sudden tumultuous terror. She saw him stoop at the car door, even as once before she had seen him enter at another lowly door, in another and far-off land. She felt again the fear which then she half admitted. But in a moment Mary Ellen knew that all fear and all resistance were too late.

The eyes of Franklin, direct, a.s.sured, almost sad, asked her no question, but only said, ”Here am I!” And Mary Ellen knew that she could no longer make denial or delay. Her thoughts came rapid and confused; her eyes swam; her heart beat fast. Afar she heard the singing of a mocker in the oaks, throbbing, thrilling high and sweet as though his heart would break, with what he had to say.

Judge Wilson and Dr. Gregg politely removed their hats as Franklin entered the car and addressed Mary Ellen. Confused by the abruptness of it all, it was a moment before she recognised local requirements, and presented Franklin to the gentlemen. For an instant she planned flight, escape. She would have begged Franklin to return with her.

Fate in the form of the driver had its way. ”Git ep, mewel!” sounded from the front of the car. There was a double groan. A little bell tinkled lazily. The rusty wheels began slowly to revolve.

”It's an awful hour to call,” admitted Franklin under the rumble of the wheels. ”I couldn't get a carriage, and I hadn't any horse. There wasn't any car. Forgive me.”

Part of this was open conversation, and Franklin made still further polite concessions to the company. Yes, he himself was a member of the bar--a very unworthy one. He had a relative who was a physician. A lovely city, this, which they had. Beautiful old places, these along the way. A rare and beautiful life, that of these old Southern families. Delightful, the South. He had always loved it in so far as he had ever known it, and he felt the better acquainted, having known Miss Beauchamp so well in her former home in the West. And the Judge said, ”Uh-ah!” and the doctor bowed, looking the while with professional admiration at the chest and flank of this brown, powerful man, whose eye smote like a ray from some motor full of compressed energy.

Beyond this it is only to be said that both Judge and doctor were gentlemen, and loyal to beauty in distress. They both earned Mary Ellen's love, for they got off eight blocks sooner than they should have done, and walked more than half a mile in the sun before they found a place of rest.

”Oh, well, yessah, Judge,” said Dr. Gregg, half sighing, ”we were young once, eh, Judge?--young once ouhselves.”

”Lucky dog!” said the judge; ”lucky dog! But he seems a gentleman, and if he has propah fam'ly an' propah resources, it may be, yessah, it may be she's lucky, too. Oh, Northehn, yessah, I admit it. But what would you expeck, sah, in these times? I'm told theh are some vehy fine people in the No'th.”

”Deep through,” said the doctor, communing with himself. ”Carries his trunk gran'ly. Splendid creatuah--splendid! Have him? O' co'se she'll have him! What woman wouldn't? What a cadaver! What a subjeck--”

”Good G.o.d! my dear sir!” said the judge. ”Really!”

Meantime the dingy little car was trundling down the wide, sleepy street, both driver and mules now fallen half asleep again. Here and there a negro sat propped up in the sun, motionless and content. A clerk stretched an awning over some perishable goods. A child or two wandered along the walk. The town clock pointed to half past eleven.

The warm spring sun blazed down. A big fly buzzed upon the window pane. No more pa.s.sengers came to the car, and it trundled slowly and contentedly on its course toward the other end of its route.

Franklin and Mary Ellen sat looking out before them, silent. At last he turned and placed his hand over the two that lay knit loosely in her lap. Mary Ellen stirred, her throat moved, but she could not speak.

Franklin leaned forward and looked into her face.