Only a few old negroes were astir when I stepped from the house the next
morning. Even the master had not arisen. The stars and the sun's
forerunners were having a battle on the broad field overhead; one by one
the stars were vanquished and their lamps extinguished. I stood upon the
lowest step of the flight in front of the house, and watched the misty,
uncertain shapes of trees and bushes gradually evolve themselves into
distinguishable outlines. The process was slow, because a kind of vapor
lay upon everything, and it resisted strenuously the onslaught of the
sun. But it gave way, as darkness ever must before light, and, as if by
magic, the curtain which night had placed was rolled away, and little by
little the landscape was revealed. Along the creek, which ran just
beyond the pike, and parallel with it, hung a dense wall of fog, against
which it seemed the arrows of day fell, blunted. The air was cool and
fresh, and I drew it deep down into my lungs, feeling the sluggish blood
start afresh with each draught.
With the dawning of that day came the dawning of a new life for me. I
realized that I had been living in a darkened room, and that a window
had suddenly been thrown open, letting in upon me a shower of golden
light, with the songs of birds and the incense of flowers. My old life
had been a contented one, had known the pleasures to be derived from
association with books and God's great out-door miracles. The new life,
whose silver dawn was beginning to tip my soul with a strange radiance,
held untold joys which belong rightly to heaven, and which numbed my
mind as I strove blindly after comprehension. I was as a little child
left all at once alone upon the world. I stood, helpless, trying to
centralize my disordered thoughts, with a strange oppressed feeling in
my breast which deep respirations could not drive away. I was deeply,
deeply troubled, and my mind was in a maze. But one idea possessed me,
and that doggedly asserted itself, overriding the tumult in my brain. I
was longing, madly longing, to see again her whom I _loved_. The word in
my mind was like the touch of a white-hot iron, and I started as if
stung, and fell to pacing nervously up and down. It could not be; it
could not be! That child of nineteen,--I a man of forty-five! The idea
was monstrous! What an old fool I had been! I did not know my own mind,
that was all. I would be all right in a day or two. But still that
sinking feeling weighed above my heart, and my usually calm pulse was
rioting with something other than exercise.
"Let it be love!" I cried at last, in my troubled soul. "The painful
bliss of this half hour's experience is worth the cost of denial, for
she shall never know!"
Thus did I, poor worm, commune in my fool's heaven, recking not, nor
knowing, that I was setting at naught the plans of my Creator.
At breakfast I was myself, although my hand trembled when I conveyed
food to my mouth, and I felt my cheeks coloring when she came in a
little late, arrayed in a pink-flowered, flowing gown, and looking as
fresh as though she had just risen, bathed in dew, from the
blue-and-crimson cup of a morning-glory.
"How did you rest after your night ride?" she smiled, sitting by me and
resting her elbows on the edge of the table, then pillowing her round
chin in her pink palms.
"I slept better for my outing," I answered promptly, lying with the ease
of a schoolboy. The truth was, my sleep had been broken and poor.
"It's a good thing for Stone that you're back," thundered Mr. Grundy.
"You're so everlastingly fond of running over all creation, and he has
the rovingest disposition I ever saw. Goin' down to salt those sheep
this mornin', S'lome?"
"Yes, sir. I made a compact with Mr. Stone last night to act as my
esquire on all my expeditions. You've often said I should have some one
to go along with me."
"Don't let her impose on you, Stone," responded the old gentleman,
throwing a quick wink in my direction. "She's young, you know, and
don't know as much as mother. She'll have you climbing an oak tree to
get a young hawk out of its nest likely as not."
Salome laughed, while I boldly assured them that I would make the effort
should she desire such a thing. Mrs. Grundy was quiet, as usual. She
contented herself listening to the conversation of the others, and
seldom took her eyes off the girl it was plain to see she worshipped.
"Get ready for a walk this morning, Mr. Stone!" called Salome, a short
time after breakfast, peeping over the balustrades at the top of the
stair. "The lower farm is about two miles, and the walk will be good for
us."
"I'll get my hat and stick; are you coming now?"
"As soon as I can get in another dress. I'll meet you in the locust
grove. Tell Tom to get you the salt, and I'll be there before you have
missed me."
She was gone with a pattering of little feet.
I went into my room for my stick and hat with a grim smile upon my face.
The steady ground which I had thought beneath me was becoming shifting
sand. I went slowly around the house to the negro quarters with bowed
head, briefly gave Tom his mistress' orders, and stood apathetically
while the darky hastened away to obey.
A quick scurrying in the grass, and the pressure of two small paws upon
my trousers' leg brought me to myself, and I bent down to pat the yellow
head of Fido, who had espied me, and instantly besought recognition.
"You poor, dumb, faithful thing," I apostrophized, looking at the bright
eyes which shone love into mine. "You are spared this agony of soul,
and the futile efforts to solve problems which cannot be known. You love
me, and I love you; why could we both not be content?"
"Is Fido going, too?"
I composed my face with an effort, and straightened up as the cheery
voice hailed me. She was coming towards me like a woodland sprite,
floating, it seemed to me, for her gliding step was so free from any
pronounced undulation. Her dress of blue checked gingham just escaped
the ground, and she wore a gingham sunbonnet with two long strings,
which she held in either hand. The sunbonnet was tilted back, and her
laughing face, with its rich, delicate under-color of old wine, was fit
for a god to kiss.
"Yes, we will take him along if you do not object. He was the companion
of my rambles before you came. We will make a congenial three."
Tom approached with a bucket of salt, which, after an exaggerated scrape
of the foot and a pull at his forelock, he handed to me, and we set out.
Our way led through the orchard at the back of the house, where grew, I
think, all sorts of apples known to man. Each bough was freighted with
its burden of round, green fruit, and here and there an Early Harvest
tree was spattered with golden patches, where the ripened apples hung in
their green bower. Beyond the orchard lay a woods pasture, formed of a
succession of gentle swells, the heavy bluegrass turf soft as an
Oriental carpet to the feet, while scattered about were hundreds of
magnificent trees, mostly oak and poplar. Dotting the sward were
numerous little white balls on long stems,--dandelions gone to seed.
These Salome plucked constantly, and, filling her cheeks with wind,
would blow like Boreas, until her face was purple. When I inquired the
purpose of this queer performance, I was shyly informed that it was to
tell if her sweetheart loved her. If she blew every one of the pappus
off at one breath, he loved her; if she didn't, he didn't love her. She
was certainly very much concerned about the matter, for every ball she
came to she plucked and blew. Sometimes all the pappus disappeared, and
sometimes they didn't, and so she never reached a decided conclusion.
The pasture crossed, a rail fence rose up before us. I at once stepped
forward to let down a gap, but Salome halted me.
"The idea!" she declared. "I don't mind that at all. You stand just
where you are, and turn your back; I'll call you when I'm over."