THE SURPRISE PARTY
HE RAN straight on into--Emily.
The girl, having been attracted by the light back of her cabin, had just
come out into her yard and so saw the impossible figure flying toward
her, and in all the world there was never but one other man so homely
and so beautiful.
"I--I thought your house was afire," Ambrose announced huskily.
He had stopped so close to the girl that she caught both his hands in
hers, pressing one for an instant against her cheek.
"Something _is_ burning in the woods; it doesn't matter," she answered;
"but, oh, Ambrose, you have been such a long time in coming to me!"
The girl's eyes were shining, her figure perfectly distinct, and she
wore the primrose dress, yet Ambrose knowing this did not believe he had
dared look at her.
"I haven't come to you now," he defended stoutly; "I was just afeard to
trust you to Miner in a fire."
Then Emily laughed the low understanding laugh that was her greatest
charm, and all the while drawing her companion with her toward their
bench in front of her door, she sat down beside him, still keeping one
hand in his gently resisting fingers; there seemed to be no fear and no
shyness about Emily to-night; she was too exquisitely a thing of love.
"Yet you were willing to trust my life and soul and everything there is
about me to Miner," she said slowly. "Ah, isn't that like a man! But,
dear, Miner hasn't been near me since early this afternoon," she
continued, "and then he came for such a funny Miner reason. He wanted to
tell me that if ever I'd thought he had any leaning toward me, it wasn't
in no ways true. Because so far as _he_ could see there wasn't nothin' a
woman could be or do that could make up for her troublesomeness."
With this Emily quietly withdrew her hand and sitting still wondered if
Ambrose had even heard her, for he did not speak at first, yet when
turning he looked at her, the light of the fire making his face quite
clear, the girl's eyes filled with tears. "Has it been so bad as that?"
she whispered.
Ambrose nodded. "I ain't ever goin' to be able to tell you how I love
you, honey, but it seems like everything that has gone before in my life
and is comin' after is done made up fer by to-night."
Then after a little, when they had talked for a while and been silent a
while longer, Emily put her head down on Ambrose's shoulder so that he
might not see her face.
"I am thinking about Sarah; every woman thinks about the other woman
some time," she confessed.
"Little Sarah?" Ambrose waited. "Was you wantin' me to say I didn't love
her, honey? 'cause I can't. Would it 'a' been fairer to you, I wonder,
ef I hadn't had a heart big enough fer lovin' some one before ever I set
eyes on you? Sarah was young and needed me, and I reckon I loved her all
I was able to _then_, but there wasn't so much of me to love her with as
there is now. You see, Em'ly darlin', the dark waters has sort 'er
passed over me, and I ain't in my springtime no more. Then lovin' and
losin' does learn us a lot: but I ain't never goin' to care fer nobody
as I do fer you, 'cause nobody else'll ever understand me and match up
to me same as you do." But here Ambrose, sighing, pushed back his faded
straw-coloured hair with the old puzzled gesture. "Still, honey, ef
anything ever happens, I feel just obleeged to tell you, I reckon I'm
the kind that plumb couldn't live on this earth without lovin' some
one."
For a troubled instant Emily hesitated, and then with a sympathy so
perfect that it was to last for ever and ever, and with another
understanding laugh, she lifted up her head and kissed her truthful
lover.
So that by and by when the fire in the woods back of them had died down
they were both so happy that they neither saw nor heard the figure in
the papaw grove stealing along a few yards to one side of them, though
in the darkness of the tangled thicket it stumbled several times and for
want of a helping arm limped painfully along.
Nevertheless five minutes later Ambrose and Emily both jumped hurriedly
to their feet. For unexpectedly there sounded a noise as of many
persons approaching the log cabin along the route which Ambrose had just
taken. In another moment a procession came into sight and at the head
and front walked Mrs. Barrows in her best purple linsey petticoat and
scoop bonnet and carrying a basket on her arm. Following her were ten,
twenty, thirty or more of the leading citizens of Pennyroyal, male and
female, attired in their Sunday clothes and bearing packages.
"It's some kind of a forgiveness party," Ambrose whispered nervously;
"seems like I'd better hide," and once again he attempted to flatten his
thin body against the wall of the cabin.
Susan Barrows took Emily in her arms. "We're surprisin' you, child, and
I hope we're pleasant," she explained. "Fer my own part I ain't never
had nothin' happen to me suddint in my life that ain't been plumb
distasteful, so I argued some with the folks to let you know we was
comin'. But there's people in villages that finds things so slow and
samewise it appears they think any kind of a start's better then nothin'
happenin', so here we are!"
Susan's speech having been somewhat longer than her neighbours cared to
listen to, the men and women of the party in the meanwhile had come
crowding up around Emily until she had the sensation of shaking hands
with a dozen persons at once, and all of them were smiling at her and
saying how glad they were to know she was well again and wouldn't she
live always in Pennyroyal, until Mrs. Barrows was actually thrust to one
side. However, in that instant she managed to unearth Ambrose, who,
appreciating what was taking place, had thought it best to step forth
out of the shadow. Sheepishly he extended his hand to his neighbour and
in the moonlight Susan got a good view of his face.
Her eyes snapped. "Good Lord! what a turn you've done give me!" she
exclaimed, and then taking a closer survey: "Ambrose Thompson, I ain't
more'n halfway suspicioned 'bout you and Em'ly Dunham before this night,
but ef ever there's a surprise party in this village when you don't get
there first, why I'd like to know!"
PART THREE
HIS THIRD WIFE
"_Is there no ending of mirth?
Will time former unloosen
Fresh fonts clear, bubbling, and bright
From the drainless youth of the earth?_"