Part 25 (1/2)
”I didn't say it made no difference to me,” she answered. ”You ought to have known better than to have made that speech.”
”Miss Warren,” I urged anxiously, ”you look white as a ghost in this mingling of moonlight and morning. When _will_ you rest?”
”When the mind and heart are at rest a tired body counts for little. So you're not afraid of ghosts?”
I looked at her intently as I replied: ”No, I would like to be haunted all my life.”
It was not wholly the reflection of the dawn that tinged the pallor of her face as I spoke these words.
After a moment's hesitation she apparently dismissed a thought, and maintained her old frank manner.
”Oh, how beautiful, how welcome the morning is!” she exclaimed, coming out on the piazza. ”To think that this is the same world that we saw last night--it's almost impossible.”
”Mr. Yocomb's words will yet prove true,” I said, ”and clearer skies and better grain will be the result of the storm.”
”Oh, I'm so glad, I'm so very glad,” she murmured. ”This morning is like a benediction;” and its brightness and beauty glowed in her face.
”I can tell you something that will please you greatly,” I continued.
”I have visited the little home in the garden that was open to last night's sky. The father and mother robins are well, and I'm sure all the little ones are too, for the mother robin had her head under her wing--a thing impossible, I suppose, if anything was amiss with the children.”
”Oh, I'm so glad!” she again repeated, and there was a joyous, exquisite thrill in her tones.
At that moment there came a burst of song from the top of the pear-tree in the garden, and we saw the head of the little household greeting the day.
Almost as sweetly and musically my companion's laugh trilled out:
”So it wasn't the day of fate after all.”
Impelled by an impulse that for the moment seemed irresistible, I took her hand as I said earnestly:
”Yes, Miss Warren, for me it was, whether for a lifetime of happiness or of disappointment.”
At first she appeared startled, and gave me a swift, searching glance; then a strong expression of pain pa.s.sed over her face. She understood me well, for my look and manner would have been unmistakable to any woman.
She withdrew her hand as she said gently:
”You are overwrought from watching--from all that's happened; let us both forget that such rash words were spoken.”
”Do not think it,” I replied, slowly and deliberately. ”I have learned to know you better since we have met than I could in months or years amid the conventionalities of society. In you I recognize my fate as vividly and distinctly as I saw you in the lightning's gleam last night. Please hear and understand me,” I urged, as she tried to check my words by a strong gesture of dissent. ”If you had parents or guardians, I would ask them for the privilege of seeking your hand.
Since you have not, I ask you. At least, give me a chance. I can never prove worthy of you, but by years of devotion I can prove that I appreciate you.”
”Oh, I'm so sorry, so very sorry you feel so,” she said, and there was deep distress in her tones; ”I was in hopes we should be life-long friends.”
”We shall be,” I replied quietly. She looked at me hesitatingly a moment, then said impulsively:
”Mr. Morton, you are too honorable a man to seek that which belongs to another. There,” she added, flus.h.i.+ng deeply, ”I've told you what I've acknowledged to no one--scarcely to myself.”
I know that the light of hope faded out of my face utterly, for I felt ill and faint. If in truth she belonged to another, her absolute truth would make her so loyal to him that further hope would be not only vain but an insult, which she would be the first to resent.
”I understand you too well,” I began despondently, ”to say another word. Miss Warren. I--I wish--it seems rather odd I should have felt so toward you when it was no use. It was as inevitable as our meeting. The world and all that's in it is an awful muddle to me. But G.o.d bless you, and if there's any good G.o.d, you will be blessed.” I s.h.i.+vered as I spoke, and was about to leave the piazza hastily, when her eager and entreating tones detained me.