Part 39 (2/2)
XLIII.
ST. VALENTINE'S DAY
One morning some six weeks after New Year's eve Garnet's carriage wheels dripped water and mud as his good horses dragged them slowly into the borders of Suez. The soft, moist winds of February were ruffling the turbid waters of Turkey Creek and the swollen flood of the Swanee. A hint of new green brightened every road-side, willows were full of yellow light, and a pink and purple flush answered from woods to fence-row, from fence-row to woods, across and across the three counties.
”This pike's hardly a pike at all since the railroad's started,” said the Major, more to himself than to Barbara and Johanna; for these were the two rear occupants of the carriage.
”Barb, I got a letter from Fair last night. You did too, didn't you?”
”Yes, sir.”
”He'll be here next week. He says he can't stop with us this time.”
Barbara was silent, and felt the shy, care-taking glance of her maid.
Garnet spoke again, in the guarded tone she knew so well.
”I reckon you understand he's only coming to see if he'll take stock in this land company we're getting up, don't you?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Doe he know you're going to spend these two weeks at Halliday's before you go North?”
”I think he does.”
The questioner turned enough to make a show of frowning solicitude.
”What's the matter with you this morning? sad at the thought of leaving home?”
”No, sir”--the speaker smiled meditatively--”we only don't hit on a subject of interest to both.”
The father faced to front again and urged the horses. He even raised the whip, but let it droop. Then he turned sharply and drew his daughter's glance. ”Is Fair going to stay with John March?”
They sat gaze to gaze while their common blood surged up to his brows and more gradually suffused her face. Without the stir of an eyelash she let her lips part enough to murmur, ”Yes.”
Before her word was finished Garnet's retort was bursting from him, ”Thanks to you, you intermeddling----” He was cut short by the lurch of the carriage into a hole. It flounced him into the seat from which he had half started and faced him to the horses. With a smothered imprecation he rose and laid on the whip. They plunged, the carriage sprang from the hole and ploughed the mire, and Garnet sat down and drove into the town's main avenue, bespattered with mud from head to waist.
Near the gate of the Academy grounds stood Parson Tombs talking to a youth in Rosemont uniform. The student pa.s.sed on, and the pastor, with an elated face, waved a hand to Garnet. Garnet stopped and the Parson came close.
”Brother Tombs, howdy?”
”Why, howdy-do, Brother Garnet?--Miss Barb!--Johanna.” He pointed covertly at the departing youth and murmured to Garnet, ”He'll make ow fo'teenth convert since New Year's. And still there is room!--Well, brother, I've been a-hearin' about John March's an' yo'-all's lan' boom, but”--the good man giggled--”I never see a case o' measles break out finer than the lan' business is broke out on you!--And you don't seem to mind it no mo'n--Look here! air you a miracle o' grace, aw what air you?”
”Why, nothing, Brother Tombs, nothing! Nothing but an old soldier who's learned that serenity's always best.”
The Parson turned to Barbara and cast a doting smile sidewise upon the old soldier. But Garnet set his face against flattery and changed the subject.
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