supper," said the sharp child; but her grandmother looked upon her
with disfavor and did not reply. After a moment the little girl came
quietly forward and laid the needle on her lap, but the old woman did
not resume her knitting. She sat with her hands folded, and looked at
intervals out of the window, but with a much-wrinkled brow.
A door opened, and Lura Ann came in with a wide straw hat on. She
was tall, slim, and fair, with deep gray eyes, heavy-lidded and
long-lashed, and a little red mouth whose short upper lip just raised
itself enough to give a glimpse of small, pearly teeth. She looked shy
and sweet.
"I am going to town, grandaunt," she said, timidly. "Shall I bring you
some more yarn?"
The old woman straightened herself and looked sternly at the maiden.
"Be you a-going to marry Sackford Moss?" she asked shrilly.
The pretty lips closed together, and no answer came from them.
"She's going to buy her wedding-gown now," cried the child, getting up
quickly from her stool. "Say, Lura Ann, can I go with you?"
"You stay right hyar, Nancy, and take care of granny," said Lura Ann,
with some severity. Then she went out, murmuring to herself: "They all
think the same thing."
She walked steadily out through the front gate and along the road to
town. It was two miles distant, and the air was close and dusty. Her
little black shoes were soon specked, and the hem of her dress gathered
soil by dipping against them. The blue merino scarf over her shoulders
made her too warm, but she did not dare take it off, because it covered
a large patch under her arm.
A handsome road-wagon, drawn by a pair of bay horses, dashed up
suddenly beside her. The driver leaned forward and touched his hat with
an air of devotion.
"Just in time, Lura Ann," he cried, gaily. "Come, get in, and I'll
drive you to town and wherever else you want to go."
"No, I thank you," said Lura Ann.
But he got down and urged her cordially. The high, shaded seat looked
delightful. The fine horses tossed their heads and pawed impatiently.
The long road stretched out, hot and dusty. Walking she would get
to town looking like a fright, and it would take much longer. The
last consideration had a weight known to nobody but herself. She let
Sackford help her up into the seat and draw the linen duster over her
knees. Covertly he examined her dress.
"Going to shop?" he asked; adding carelessly: "Burns has got in quite
a lot of new goods. My sisters were in last week and bought a carriage
load. But they are nothing to what is in the city. I am going to the
city soon. Emily has been teasing me to buy her a lace dress. How
pretty you would look in a lace dress, Lura Ann, with a little lace
bonnet on your soft brown hair, trimmed with rosebuds just the color of
your lips!"
Lura Ann's cheeks grew pinker than the bunch of apple blossoms at her
throat. "Your sisters and I air different people," she said, in her
plaintive, soft voice.
Sackford feasted his eyes in the blush. The veins in his short, thick
neck began to swell, and he shifted the reins to his right hand and
laid the left across the back of the seat. But Lura Ann sat up very
straight.
"Lean back and be comfortable," he urged.
"Take away your arm then, please," faltered Lura Ann. And just then Ben
Falconer, coming across a field in his coarse working clothes, saw her
drooping with the blush upon her cheek and Sackford's arm about her
waist. He stood still, and looked after the handsome team with a frown
and a sigh. Lura Ann had not seen him, but Sackford had, and secretly
blessed the hour. Yet he did not dare kiss Lura Ann, as he had intended.
"Where shall I take you first?" he asked, as they entered the town.
"To Mr. Wright's, if you please."
"Of course--he holds some little money belonging to her, I've heard,"
thought Sackford.
"Don't wait for me," she said, but he waited, and she was gone a long
time. When she came out she was pale, as if she had been worried. Yet
she looked resolute, and spoke in a tone that had lost all its timidity.
"Take me to the old red brick house at the end of the street," she
said, eagerly, "and oh be quick!"
"Why, what's the attraction in that old rookery--a new milliner?"
jested Sackford. He could not conceive the idea of a woman's being
interested in anything but clothes.
Lura Ann's slim hand closed tightly under her shawl about the old purse
that had come out empty and was now full to bursting with currency.
Five hundred dollars! She was of age to-day, and had drawn it in her
own name, every cent. Milliner! Yes, her hat was shabby, but no matter
about that.
Sackford was smiling to himself at her excitement as he helped her out
on to the stone step before the old red brick house. She rang the bell,
and there was no response. Her courage seemed to be oozing away as she
waited.
"Better come back," called Sackford. But she shook her head and
applied herself to the bell again. After a moment a shuffling step
approached and the door opened a few inches, allowing a man's head to
be seen. He was old and grim-looking. Lura Ann said something low and
timidly, and after a look of keen scrutiny he let her in.
Sackford felt an indescribable reluctance to have her go in.
After about five minutes she appeared at the door with a paper in her
hand, and beckoned him. He sprang out quickly, tied his horses, and
stepped into the hall beside her.
"Oh, please see if that is all right," she entreated, putting a legal
paper in his hand. "You are a lawyer, and _he_--this gentleman, said to
let you see it."
Sackford glanced from it to her, saw her total unconsciousness of
anything out of the way, frowned, bit his lip, and examined the
document with care.
"It is all right," he then said. "It is a full release. Is this what
you want?"
"Yes, oh, yes, thank you! and I am much obliged to you, sir," she
added, sweetly, to the grim old man who stood looking on from the
background.
He bowed sardonically. "The obligation is on my side, young lady," he
said.
"By Jove! It is on somebody else's side," thought Sackford, as he put
Lura Ann back into the vehicle; adding, aloud, "I don't like this."
"Ah, but you don't know," said Lura Ann, pleadingly. Her long lashes
grew moist. "It is the wish of grandaunt's heart to have the farm free
from this mortgage. I always felt as if the debt had been made because
of me. She took me when father died--I was a tiny child of three--and
oh, they have always been so good to me!"
Sackford's frown did not soften. It was surprising how surly his
shrewd, coarse face became. "But whose _is_ the farm?" he asked. "That
release was made out to Ben Falconer."
"Yes, but it is just the same. Grandaunt made over her share of the
farm to him, and he cares for all of us. He is the best man in the
world--my cousin Ben."
"The world--what do you know of the world?" said Sackford. "But, see
here, Lura Ann, do you understand? You have given away all your little
fortune and left yourself penniless."
"Yes," said Lura Ann, simply. There was something in her face that
checked further speech upon his part. She was a foolish, improvident
child, and rather too confiding toward this cousin Ben of hers, but
she was very pretty--wonderfully pretty--and, after all, he had money
enough. If five hundred dollars had rid her of her sense of obligation,
the price was cheap. A sigh came here, for Sackford Moss did not love
to part with money. But feeling that he had better put this subject
out of his mind, he smoothed his face and tried to regain his former
jovial, easy bearing. Lura Ann heard his talk as if it sounded from a
far-off country. But suddenly there was a question; it brought her
with a start to a sense of her surroundings. His face was bent down
close to hers; his breath--she shuddered and turned her head. Then the
answer came, clear and final. What could he do after that but whip up
the horses and hasten on?
At the farm gate he let her down and drove away without a backward
glance. A spray of withered apple blossoms fell from her dress into the
dust, and his wheel passed over it.
But she walked up the path with a step like the toss of thistledown and
a heart as light.
The old woman was again looking from the window. She nodded kindly,
but her brow was careworn. "Nancy laid the fire," she said. "It's five
o'clock. I think it's going to rain. Ben has worked too hard lately.
He's in his room with a headache."
"I'll get tea in a minute," said Lura Ann. "But first, grandaunt, look
hyar!" She laid off her hat and scarf, and came and knelt on the stool
at the old woman's feet. "See," and she opened the paper. "It is a
release from the mortgage! It is my gift to you, grandaunt, bought
with the money uncle left me. The farm is free!"
The old woman's hands trembled as she laid them on the beautiful young
head. "The Lord bless you, child!" she murmured. But in a moment came
the after-thought. "Lura Ann, it has taken everything!" she exclaimed.
"You haven't a dollar left to buy your wedding-gown!"
The stair door opened, and Ben came down from his room, carrying a
little hand-mirror in a carved wooden frame. He was a fine specimen
of young manhood, tall, straight, and strong. His dark brown eyes
showed intelligence and depth of feeling. Over his features--naturally
good--was now cast the reflection of that victory which makes a man
"greater than he that taketh a city." He advanced with an air of
cheerfulness.
"Lura Ann, I did not forget that this is your birthday. I carved this
frame for you myself, and I wish you----"
"Ben!" cried his grandmother. "Lura Ann has bought off the mortgage!"
"And I'm going to light the fire with it," cried Lura Ann a little
tremulously, and springing up.
But Ben came and took it from her quickly. He did not comprehend the
legal phrases as Sackford had done, but he gathered the sense. His fine
eyes began to brighten and glow as they rested on his cousin's face,
now averted and blushing.
"Lura Ann, let me see your wedding-gown," exclaimed Nancy, coming in;
and Lura Ann grew rose red, but she made a violent effort to free
herself from this wretched mistake.
"I haven't got any--I'm not going to have any!" she cried hysterically,
turning to strike a match to the fire. "What do I want of a
wedding-gown when I'm not going to be married?"
"But Sackford Moss said----" began Nancy, with staring eyes.
"Bother Sackford Moss!" said Lura Ann, pettishly, trembling with
nervousness under Ben's grave eyes.
"He said he was going to take you away from us!" finished the
persistent child.
"Well, he isn't!" said Lura Ann emphatically. Then she would have liked
to flee to her room, but Ben was still standing before her.
"Nancy," he said, in singularly happy tones, "go, get in the young
chickens, quick. Don't you see how fast the rain is coming?" And Nancy,
who always obeyed her brother, went.
Then Ben, conscious of the whole evening before him, let Lura Ann get
supper and clear it away, before supplementing by a single word the
tender, hopeful look in his eyes.
But an hour later, when the shower had passed, they stood together on
the stoop, which was covered with fallen apple blossoms. The clouds
were gone and the sky was clear blue, except for a trail of gold in the
west. The fields lay green and wet. They looked at sky and fields, and
at last into each other's eyes, and there their gaze rested.
"How sweet the air is after the rain," said the old woman.
"It is the apple blossoms," said Ben, from the stoop; and gathering up
a handful he let them fall in a shower over Lura Ann's head.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Copyright, 1897 and 1898, by S. H. Moore & Co.
[2] Copyright, 1900, by the F. M. Lupton Publishing Co.
[3] Copyright, 1893, by Romance Publishing Co.
[4] Copyright, 1899, by "The Housewife."
[5] Copyright, 1899, by S. H. Moore & Co.
[6] Copyright, 1896, by "The Independent."
[7] Copyright, 1896, by "The Independent."
[8] Copyright, 1896, by "The Independent."
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| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. |
| |
| Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant |
| form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. |
| |
| Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. |
| |
| Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters, |
| _like this_. |
| |
| Duplicated chapter headings have been omitted. |
| |
| Footnotes were moved to the end of the book and numbered in one |
| continuous sequence. |
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End of Project Gutenberg's Southern Hearts, by Florence Hull Winterburn