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diff --git a/33289-h/33289-h.htm b/33289-h/33289-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af4b310 --- /dev/null +++ b/33289-h/33289-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6582 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Loves of Ambrose, by Margaret Vandercook. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .chaptertitle {text-align: center; font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 90%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + .cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; margin: -0.2em 0.1em 0; margin-top: 0%; + padding: 0; line-height: .75em; font-size: 300%; text-align: justify;} + .cap {text-align: justify;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Loves of Ambrose, by Margaret Vandercook + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Loves of Ambrose + +Author: Margaret Vandercook + +Illustrator: Gordon Grant + +Release Date: July 29, 2010 [EBook #33289] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOVES OF AMBROSE *** + + + + +Produced by Emmy, Darleen Dove and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 309px;"> +<img src="images/coverpage.jpg" width="309" height="500" alt="coverpage" title="" /> +</div><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> + + +<h1>THE LOVES OF AMBROSE</h1> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 258px;"><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a> +<img src="images/i-005.jpg" width="258" height="400" alt=""The young man put the honeysuckle in his buttonhole"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"The young man put the honeysuckle in his buttonhole"</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> +<h1>THE<br /> +LOVES OF AMBROSE</h1> + +<div class='center'><small>BY</small><br /> +MARGARET VANDERCOOK<br /><br /></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/i-006.jpg" width="250" height="187" alt="Horse and carriage" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /><br /><i>Illustrated by Gordon Grant</i><br /> + +<br /><br /><br /> +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY<br /> +<small>GARDEN CITY NEW YORK</small><br /> +1914<br /> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class='copyright'> +<i>Copyright, 1914, by</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Doubleday, Page & Company</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>All rights reserved, including that of<br /> +translation into foreign languages,<br /> +including the Scandinavian</i><br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class='center'> +"<i>And God gave Solomon wisdom and understanding<br /> +exceeding much, and largeness of<br /> +heart, even as the sand that is on the seashore.</i>"<br /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class='center'> +To<br /> +JOHN VANDERCOOK<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />PART I</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>HIS FIRST WIFE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'> The Departure</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'> The Voice of the Turtle</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'> "Peachy"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'> "Even so, Love, even so! Whither thou goest, I will go."</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'> The Return</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />PART II</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>HIS SECOND WIFE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'> Reconstruction</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'> "Em'ly Dunham"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'> The Female Delegation</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' valign='top'>IX.</td><td align='left'> "The tides of love and laughter run<br /> Increasing aye from sun to sun"</td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'> The Revelation</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'> Following His Advice</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'> A Light in Darkness</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'> The Surprise Party</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_144">144</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />PART III</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>HIS THIRD WIFE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'> Thirty Years</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'> Original Sin</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'> The Eternal Fire</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'> The Revival Service</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.</td><td align='left'> Indian Summer</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br />PART IV</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>HIS FOURTH WIFE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIX.</td><td align='left'> "'Lizabeth"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XX.</td><td align='left'> "Giving in Marriage"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXI.</td><td align='left'> "I Shall Want My Em'ly"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></p> + +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"The young man put the honeysuckle in his buttonhole"</div></td><td align='right'><i><a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'> </div></td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"Leaping ditches, tearing across ploughed fields, to the woods ahead"</div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"Miner rode slowly along on horseback, now and then making inquiries of wayfarers"</div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"The Village"</div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"He stopped when the mouth of an old war pistol was suddenly placed in front of his shoulder"</div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"'Ain't you never goin' to stop mopin', Ambrose Thompson? I'm sick of lookin' at you.'"</div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"'You kin manage me now all you've a mind to; I ain't worryin''"</div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>"Thus it was that 'Lisabeth took up the business of caring for Uncle Ambrose Thompson"</div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>PART ONE</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>HIS FIRST WIFE</div> + + +<div class='poem2'> +"<i>Oh! lose the winter from thine heart, the darkness from thine eyes,</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>And from the low hearth-chair of dreams, my Love-o'-May, arise,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>And let the maidens robe thee like a white white, lilac tree.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Oh! hear the call of Spring, fair Soul,—and wilt thou come with me?</i>"</span><br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE DEPARTURE</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Ambrose Thompson</span> opened his front door +and looked out. It was May, the sun had just +risen over Pennyroyal, and before him lay Kentucky's +carnival of spring.</p> + +<p>The boy drew a deep breath that seemed to +rise and quiver over his face like a breeze coming +away at the end of his long, curiously emotional +nose.</p> + +<p>"Glory, what a day!" he whispered; "seems +about good enough to eat!" And then he vanished, +only to reappear five minutes afterward +dressed as a traveller and wearing a linen duster, +a stovepipe hat, and carrying a carpet-bag.</p> + +<p>Out in the cinder path his glance embraced +the quiet street.</p> + +<p>"Right foot, left foot"—without a change of +expression the boy broke into an irrepressible +jig. He was nineteen and stood six feet four in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +his stocking feet; the wind tilted his tall hat, +showing his high forehead, his straight, straw-coloured +hair, and solemn, light blue eyes; it +whipped back his linen duster, disclosing his +lean legs clad in tight trousers, his frock coat, +and white stock. An indescribable air of adventure +enveloped him. So Abraham Lincoln +may have looked on some dress-occasion morning +in his youth—all big bones and promises +waiting for something to happen.</p> + +<p>"I sure am going to give 'em the slip this +time," Ambrose panted, stopping to readjust his +costume and to take another careful survey of +the neighbourhood. In his garden several lilac +bushes were in their first bloom, and above his +doorway an ardent, over-early honeysuckle had +blossomed in the night. The young man put +the honeysuckle in his buttonhole.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 243px;"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a> +<img src="images/i-020.jpg" width="243" height="400" alt=""Leaping ditches, tearing across ploughed fields, to the woods ahead"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Leaping ditches, tearing across ploughed fields, to the woods ahead"</span> +</div> + +<p>"I reckon," he remarked, "there ain't nothin' +sweet that don't grow in Kentucky," and +then with a smile whose shine radiated through +his homeliness and a blush that spread to +the tips of his big ears, he added: "I ain't +just figurin' on the growth of flowers," and +was off tiptoeing down his garden walk and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +stepping across his gate to avoid the creak of +opening it.</p> + +<p>This was fifty-five years ago in Kentucky, +in a little village of some three or four hundred +inhabitants, shut in by hills and by inclination +in the southwestern part of the state; a community +not to be confounded with their high-living, +high-stepping blue grass neighbours, for dwellers +in the "Pennyrile" were a plainer people, who +perhaps drew some of their characteristics from +the bittersweet, pungent "Pennyrile" grass that +gave the locality its name.</p> + +<p>As for the town itself, it rested primly in a cup-shaped +hollow with three main streets. One of +them, travelling farther than the rest, led in a +way to the end of things for the residents of +Pennyroyal as it climbed a hill at the foot of the +village, set thick with hardy perennials, evergreens, +and small white stones, while encircling +this hill was Peter's Creek, that by and by grew +up to be a river, but it had a tranquil movement, +proceeding slowly on its course by reason +of sharing the Pennyroyalian distaste for getting +any distance from home.</p> + +<p>Then the houses in Pennyroyal: although the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +beautiful open country was all about them, +they crowded so close together that they seemed +almost to touch elbows, and now and then one +of them had appeared to shove the other back +in its determination to get the best view of the +street. They were mostly cottages, with no +front porches, but with sloping roofs and little +Gothic wooden fences, and painted white, with +green outside blinds, except Ambrose's, and his +had been touched with a boy's imagination, its +intention being plainly rose colour.</p> + +<p>Now in a double row along the outside wooden +sidewalk this morning the linden trees were dropping +fragrant yellow plumes inches deep in the +ruts of the clay road, while over the chimneys +whirled the last of the spring's apple blossoms. +Bees buzzed among the flowers, birds chattered, +flying nervously from one tree to another in an +effort to be through with breakfast before the disturbing +human element should get about; and +hitched to a nearby post Ambrose's horse and +gig were waiting.</p> + +<p>The young man surveyed his equipage with +the eyes of an idealist.</p> + +<p>Old Liza had seen service, but her toilet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +had been made in the spirit of the best foot foremost; +her coat had been freshly curried, her +gray mane and tail carefully combed, and in +her manner there was an air of emotional anticipation.</p> + +<p>With one foot hovering above the step of his +gig, Ambrose suddenly paused. The laprobe +inside the carriage was quivering.</p> + +<p>"Holy Moses!" Reaching underneath, the +young man drew forth a small black and brown +object whose legs and tail were five upturned +points of supplication. Setting it upright on +the ground, his face hardened. "Ain't I told +you you couldn't come with me, Moses?" he +began sternly. "Ef ever there was a crittur, +human or otherwise, with a talent for bein' +where it wasn't wanted, it's you! Besides, +ain't I just locked you in the stable?"</p> + +<p>The softening in his master's manner, visible +in his last question, in the twitching of his eyebrows, +in the slight movement of the tip of his +long nose, was familiar to Moses. Casually he +approached Ambrose's leg, but midway there, +sensing defeat and not being an amiable beast, +he planted his feet wide apart, barked as loudly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +as chronic hoarseness permitted, and straightway +the young man humbled himself before +him.</p> + +<p>"Fer the lands sakes don't give me away," +he pleaded. "I ain't never had such luck before +this, getting off without being pestered." +Down on his knees, he patted the stiff bristles, +apologetically whispering: "Sorry not to be +wishing your company, but Susan and Aunt +Ca'line will look after you. Ain't nothin' on God's +earth that will keep Susan Barrows from lookin' +after every mortal thing she sets eyes on."</p> + +<p>Without deigning a farewell, Moses trotted +away. A ridiculous looking animal with an +ancestry as mixed as any son of Adam, yet +he had an enormous self-esteem. You see, +though a dog, Moses possessed a self-sustaining +ego, which requires no special ancestry or talents +to uphold it. For there is a vanity that +feeds itself, and many nobler personalities go +down before it. Invariably Ambrose's did. +Merely christened after the Hebrew lawmaker +because of having been found amid some bulrushes, +yet Moses may have felt that the name +carried its anointment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> + +<p>But now at last the traveller had fairly +started. Swinging into his gig, he arranged his +long legs in a comfortable right-angle triangle, +taking a final hurried glance around him. +"Move on, Liza, faster'n you can, or it's all over +with me," he urged, "for things is lookin' kind of +nervous."</p> + +<p>Three times his wagon wheels had revolved in +the clay road when a shutter on the house next +door banged open, and like the explosion of a +gun a child's voice rent the air.</p> + +<p>"He's off! I tell you I see him. He's gettin' +away unbeknownst." And a thin, brown +figure hopping out of the window on the grass +ran toward the street, twittering and moving +its head from side to side like an excited bird. +An instant later from the same opening a second +pair of legs protruded—longer and thinner +than the others, clad in white stockings and +black cloth gaiters. Like the feelers of a beetle +turned over on its back they waved in the air. +And from behind a kind of barrel-shaped opening +came a voice so tragic and compelling that +even old Liza, stopping short, turned an inquiring +eye toward the source of the disturbance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>As for Ambrose, although filled with a boy's +impatience at interruption, the sight was overpowering. +His reins dropped loosely, he stared, +gasped, and then shook with silent laughter. +Susan Barrows was living in the days of hoopskirts, +and now in her effort to slide through the +window had been held fast.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, in her time, desire has probably +removed as many mountains as faith, so, notwithstanding +her present difficulty, Susan's gave +her power soon to set herself upright on the +ground, and still with her full rigging to continue +moving toward her goal like a ship with a +full gale behind it.</p> + +<p>A thin middle-aged woman, Mrs. Barrows +was, of medium height and of terrific energy. +The drama of her personal existence in a small +town with no outside interests being always insufficient, +Susan had filled in her hunger with +an insatiate appetite for other people's affairs. +Never could her curiosity about her neighbours +be wholly gratified, and yet, like the possessor +of any other great passion, its owner did her +level best to satisfy it.</p> + +<p>Out in the road, with one hand she grasped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +Ambrose's coat sleeve while the other was unconsciously +raised toward heaven. Two bright +spots of colour burned on her high cheek bones, +her bunches of black corkscrew curls trembled +with eagerness, her eyes challenged.</p> + +<p>"Tell me where you be goin' and what you +be a-goin' fer, Ambrose Thompson. It ain't +fair you stealin' off this way each year and nobody +findin' out where or why. Seems like us +bein' neighbours and me seein' to you since your +ma's death, that you might leastways have put +your trust in me."</p> + +<p>Removing her hand from his sleeve, Ambrose +patted it gently before returning it to its owner. +"No, ma'am, I ain't goin' to tell you no more +this time than before," he replied. "And I was +hopin' to get off once without remarks."</p> + +<p>During this temporary delay the younger +Susan had been industriously pecking and +poking about in the lower part of their neighbour's +gig. Now as the young man moved on +for the second time the child's voice again rang +after him.</p> + +<p>"He's goin' courtin'; Ambrose Thompson is +always runnin' after girls! It's Peachy Williams,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +for I seen his leg under his duster, and he's +wearing his Sunday clothes!"</p> + +<p>These last words were a triumph of evidence, +but not for a moment would Ambrose look back +nor appear to have heard. A humorous affection +he might feel for the older Susan, but for +the younger his dislike was to last for more than +fifty years. Nevertheless, a little later he did +turn around, and root and branch, the Susans +had vanished, so that even now the news of his +departure was stirring through Pennyroyal as +the wind moves the leaves in a group of closely +planted trees.</p> + +<p>Something it is to know when one is beaten. +Swearing a trifle and yet grinning, the boy settled +himself more comfortably in his gig. "Might +as well drive through town now kind of slow, +and give folks a treat," he relented. "Mebbe I +was shirkin' duty in tryin' to sneak off. Pennyrile +ain't to say starvin' for food and clothes, but +she certainly is pinin' for excitement, and who +says that ain't just as bad? Seems like Christian +charity for me to give this town something to +talk about at least once a year."</p> + +<p>And truly these yearly spring migrations of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +young Ambrose Thompson had aroused more +interest and unrest in Pennyroyal than the yearly +mystery of the earth's rebirth. Because, for the +past five years on a certain May morning (and +there never was a way of discovering just +which morning he might choose) Ambrose had +set out, at first on foot and later with his gig, +and been away from his home eight and forty +hours. Returning, he had given no clue as to +where he had been.</p> + +<p>Now like the music of a calliope the squeak +of his wagon wheels awoke the village. Windows +and doors flew open, heads in nightcaps +and bald heads and heads with curls were thrust +forth, but to their volley of questionings and +accusations, Ambrose offered only the morning's +greetings.</p> + +<p>Travelling with praiseworthy slowness, he +neglected no street in Pennyroyal, and, by the +dozen, girls went fluttering in and out of houses, +to wave farewells to the adventurer, while +bolder voices called out Peachy Williams's name +with every teasing inflection. One girl to whom +Ambrose threw the spray of honeysuckle from +his buttonhole cast it scornfully back, refusing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +to accept what she so plainly thought another's +spoils.</p> + +<p>Then the young man drove past Brother +Bibbs, the Baptist minister, who, framed in the +vestibule of his wooden church, beamed upon +him with such heavenly condescension toward +earthly affection that his expression of "Bless +you, my children," was almost equivalent to a +marriage ceremony. Next, along his route, +appeared three maiden sisters, the Misses Polly. +They stood in a line in their front yard, Miss +Zeruiah, the literary one, <i>always</i> in advance, then +Miss Narcissa, instructor in mathematics and +the sciences, and last and humblest because +most useful of the family trio, Miss Jane, the +domestic one. Upon her Ambrose smiled with +especial kindness, remembering certain heart-shaped +cookies presented in early youth, which +even in the form of sweet cakes held a kind of +romantic suggestion. The Mistress Polly were +directors of the "Polly Institute," where Ambrose +and Peachy had started their technical +education at about the same time, and yet this +youthful acquaintance hardly justified the present +arrangement of a love motif. Nevertheless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +Ambrose distinctly heard the three ladies +breathing in unison the name of "Peachy" as +he passed them by.</p> + +<p>Two hours later, well away from Pennyroyal, +having turned off the high road to a less +frequented lane, the traveller brought old Liza +to her first halt. Then, drawing out a large red +handkerchief, he wiped his moist brow and, +removing his collar, gazed furtively about him.</p> + +<p>The glory of his early morning face had departed; +he looked older and almost haggard.</p> + +<p>"Ain't it awful, human curiosity!" he murmured. +"Reckon I was most too brave in +tryin' to make things worse, and yet I never +dreamed folks would think I was runnin' after +Peachy Williams this trip. She——"</p> + +<p>Lower and lower Ambrose seemed to be +gradually settling down into his gig, although +finding some trouble in disposing of so great a +length of leg.</p> + +<p>Finally he sighed: "Kind of wish I had +brought old Moses along fer comp'ny." For +the boy was feeling that need for companionship +that comes after all mental strain. "But then +Moses ain't like dogs; he's so bothersome he's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +most human—always either wantin' you to do +something fer him or to set up and take notice +of what he is doin'."</p> + +<p>Relapsing into silence after this, which was +soon followed by a more usual and serene state +of mind, the young man shortly after took out +from his duster pocket a withered russet apple +left over from the winter store, and thoughtfully +sunk his teeth in it. Then gradually his +tranquillity deepened, increased by the recollection +of his having just passed through the fire +of the enemy and escaped. Behind him lay the +village of Pennyroyal, suspicious yet still unsatisfied, +and before him the open, empty, springtime +road. At will Liza was cropping wayside +grass: the traveller's hands had let slip the +reins, and sometimes his eyes wandered to +the far-off blue horizon and sometimes dwelt on +the closer beauty of the roadsides, where elderberry, +sumach and Virginia creeper were tangled +in thick hedges, and where young grapevines +hung like silver-green garlands under their fine +coating of May dust.</p> + +<p>In a Kentucky landscape, to those who comprehend +it, there is ever a sense of generous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +growth, of nature's yielding herself gladly to +life's eternal purpose. Now dimly this country +boy began to understand the motive in the new +beauties and new fragrances of each returning +spring.</p> + +<p>Again the eagerness of the dawn overtook +him; and stiffening, he picked up his reins, starting +off again, when, turning in from an elbow up +the road, Ambrose beheld the one person whom +above all others his desire had been to escape.</p> + +<p>The figure was occupying the entire seat of a +buggy, but was driving along apparently so lost +in thought as to seem oblivious of anything or +anybody in his vicinity.</p> + +<p>"Morning, Ambrose," Doctor Webb began, +however, as he appeared directly alongside the +other gig, and yet there was nothing either in +his tone or manner to suggest that he thought it +unusual for a young man to be turning his back +upon his natural field of labour at this hour of +the morning to drive off in exactly the opposite +direction.</p> + +<p>"Morning," Ambrose returned, warily attempting +to creep past without further conversation. +For if the doctor should open the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +broadside of his humour the secret of his journey +might yet be wrested from him. Nevertheless, +although the older man had stopped +his horse too deliberately to be ignored, he +showed no present desire to ask questions. +Indeed, the usual smile had disappeared from +his kind face, and his deeply lined eyes appeared +anxious and worried. Just such a look Ambrose +had seen while the doctor sat watching by +the bedside of a critically ill patient.</p> + +<p>"What troubles you, doctor?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>In answer the man leaned across from his +buggy, taking one of Ambrose's lean hands in +his, and, unaccustomed to a touch with such +magnetic power in it, a kind of electric thrill +passed through the susceptible boy.</p> + +<p>"It's you I've been troubling about lately, my +son," Doctor Webb answered, "and now it seems +as if Providence had just sent you along for me to +speak to this morning. I've brought you out of +children's diseases, chicken pox, measles and the +like, but I've been seein' symptoms in you lately +that have made me powerful uneasy, 'cause in +this trouble it ain't in my power to help you +through."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ambrose's tongue was thickening, and his +Adam's apple moving convulsively. "Is the +disease so serious, then?" he whispered, feeling +a hitherto unsuspected though general weakness +creeping over him.</p> + +<p>The doctor bowed his great head until his +double, treble chin rested upon his shirt bosom, +concealing his face from view. "Sometimes +it's fatal, my boy," he returned, appearing so +moved that his big voice sounded hoarse and +unnatural. "It's true there's some that gets +over it, but nobody ain't ever <i>quite</i> the same +afterward."</p> + +<p>Ambrose was trying to keep his knees from +knocking together. "How have I showed symptoms +of the disease?" he asked.</p> + +<p>And Doctor Webb's whole body rocked slowly +back and forth. "My son, you're showin' 'em +uncommon bad this mornin'. I could notice +'em soon as I was ridin' up toward you; your +colour is a-comin' an' a-goin', your eyes is shinin' +unnatural bright, your heart is a-thumpin' too +quick." And here he sighed, so that Ambrose +braced his lean shoulders for the worst, although +his lips were dry.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tell me quick, doctor; ef I kin bear it, what +is it ails me?"</p> + +<p>"Puppy love," the doctor shouted, and then +giving his old horse an unexpected cut with his +clean willow switch, off he drove, shaking with +laughter.</p> + +<p>"Puppy love!" Twice Ambrose repeated the +words in a stupid fashion, and then his laughter +rang out until it sounded like an echo of +the older man's heavier roar. "Durn it," he +said to himself, "ef that ain't just another way +of sayin' 'Peachy'!"</p> + +<p>When finally the traveller entered the shelter +of a certain group of low hills near the Kentucky +river, it was well past the middle of the afternoon, +and there in a hollow he fed and watered +his horse and then lay down behind a tree.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE VOICE OF THE TURTLE</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">In the</span> mean time, however, Mrs. Barrows +and her offspring had not been idle. Indeed, no +sooner had they become convinced that no information +could be had out of Ambrose than +they both set off at once hurrying across back +lots, the younger preceding her mother like an +outrider, thrusting her head and her news into +every open door.</p> + +<p>Within a few minutes the mother and daughter +had arrived together at a small house set +midway in the next street, and there, without +even pausing to knock, Mrs. Barrows, pulling at +a side door, entered a dining-room. Seated at +a breakfast table were six girls and one young +man, and immediately the six pairs of inquiring +feminine eyes were upraised toward Susan, although +the solitary male continued the eating +of three large fried eggs in spite of the fact<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +that his appearance plainly indicated a bilious +temperament.</p> + +<p>"Miner Hobbs, he's gone!" said Susan. +"Got off most without my seein' him, though I +ain't had a good night's rest come this month +of May!"</p> + +<p>Obviously this information should have been +regarded as interesting, and yet, except for +a curt nod, Miner apparently had not heard. +From earliest boyhood notwithstanding that two +more unlike fellow creatures could not be imagined, +he and Ambrose Thompson had been +closest friends. For while Ambrose was long +and fair, Miner was considerably below medium +height and dark, with one gloomy, +indestructible curl rising above his already +furrowed brow. Alike only in both being orphans, +Ambrose was untroubled by other ties, +while Miner was guardian to six beautiful blond +sisters, all exceeding him in size and tranquillity. +The drygoods firm of Hobbs & Thompson had +been opened up in Pennyroyal a year before, so +that to-day Ambrose's unexplained disappearance +was not only a failure in personal confidence +but a downright business backsliding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>By and by, Miner arose. Still his fit of +abstraction appeared too deep to have been +pierced from the outside, and yet, sliding past +Mrs. Barrows, he attempted to get out of the +door. However, his visitor sprang upon him.</p> + +<p>"You're sneakin' off to try to catch up +with Ambrose," she announced triumphantly. +"Well, the Lord knows I ain't one to want to +hinder you. But I'm thinkin' you won't succeed, +for Ambrose Thompson will lead all of us +that aims to keep up with him a powerful long +journey before ever we are through with him."</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding, in the following of his partner +Miner Hobbs fully understood that one +must proceed warily; therefore he did not attempt +starting until after Ambrose was well +out of town, and then he rode slowly along +on horseback, never coming into the range of +the other traveller's vision, but trying to keep +his wheel tracks in evidence, and now and then +making inquiries of wayfarers. So that about +an hour after Ambrose's entrance into the +woods his friend came to the same place and +there sought the thicket in which he believed +him to have hidden himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 249px;"> +<img src="images/i-040.jpg" width="249" height="400" alt=""Miner rode slowly along on horseback, now and then making inquiries of wayfarers"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Miner rode slowly along on horseback, now and then making inquiries of wayfarers"</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>Face downward Ambrose was lying on the +soft earth; but if he felt surprise or anger at +hearing the sound of a horse's hoofs, and later a +human footfall, he made no sign. Flopping +over he merely called, "Hello," keeping his +eyes fixed upon the line of hills on the opposite +bank of the river. His fishing-pole, fastened to +a bush near by, was extended over the water, but +Ambrose's only visible occupation was the chewing +of a blade of "pennyrile" grass.</p> + +<p>In contrast, Miner Hobbs appeared fatigued +and harassed.</p> + +<p>"I got to find out why you come off to yourself +every year, Ambrose," he began angrily. +"I know you're doin' somethin' you're ashamed +of or you wouldn't be hidin'."</p> + +<p>"Wherefore?" smiled the other boy. "Look +here, Miner, we're friends, have been since the +first hour we met, yet I can't see as that gives +you the right to know my business. Friends +has got their places, and in my opinion a man +can tell his friend just what he wants him to +know, no more, and no less, and the friend ain't +the privilege to spy out a single other thing."</p> + +<p>"But you're doin' somethin' sinful or you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +would 'a' told me," Miner repeated doggedly, +and then, although uninvited, he sat down on the +ground close by, commencing to smooth out +the Hyperion curl over his brow which his dejection +and the heat of his trip had considerably +tightened.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll let it go at that," drawled Ambrose.</p> + +<p>And for the next five minutes both boys +sulked, Miner gnawing savagely at his plug of +tobacco, Ambrose still chewing on the blade of +"pennyrile" grass.</p> + +<p>There were no informing signs about the place, +so Miner decided that the truant must now +merely be resting on his journey.</p> + +<p>"You hadn't a right to run off from business," +Miner spluttered next. Having made +up his mind not to make this accusation, the +little man was surprised upon hearing it explode +of its own strength.</p> + +<p>However, Ambrose, instead of appearing disturbed, +attempted to arrange himself more comfortably +on the grass, but finding this impossible, +his voice suggested richer repose.</p> + +<p>"Miner, ain't it ever come to you that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +Lord has given human bein's time for more than +one thing?" he queried, resting his chin upon +his hand. "I hold with work myself most +always, but now and then there comes a time, +maybe it's just a short time, that is meant for +something else, something that belongs to you +and is intended for you to do same as your +work. Maybe it's restin' and maybe it ain't."</p> + +<p>But at this the little man rose up on his feet. +"As you've made up your mind you are not +goin' to tell me, Ambrose, what is the use of +talkin' so much? I suppose you're sure you +are not goin' to tell me?"</p> + +<p>His companion bowed his head.</p> + +<p>"All right then, it ain't necessary," Miner +rejoined. "I know what 'tis. There ain't but +one thing that could ever come between you +and me and that's—a girl. If it ain't Peachy +Williams that has lured you from home, then +it's some one else. I've been expectin' this to +happen a long time, and I've been tryin' to +prepare myself for this day,"—here Miner +choked, and coughed in order to conceal his +emotion—"but I've always said to myself: +Ambrose's easy, but he's open, and he'll surely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +tell me in time to get a brace. Of course I +know, Ambrose, that you've been plumb crazy +about girls since the Lord knows when, and +been sendin' mottoes and valentines since you +were able to talk, but I didn't think you would +reach the marryin' stage fer quite a spell. Still +I can see for myself that this spring trip looks +like business. It passes my knowledge,"—Miner +relented—"but it's you. Seems as if I +couldn't bear havin' females worritin' me save +those my parents and the Lord put on me to the +last day I live, but you, Ambrose, you ain't +never had petticoat sense and never will. Good-bye." +And there was unutterable scorn in +Miner's last words, as he moved away, mingled +with the affection he was to feel for no living +thing save Ambrose. When with head bowed, +he was unconsciously treading underfoot the +flowers that sprinkled his path, a fishing-pole +and line deftly circled through the air caught its +hook in his coat sleeve.</p> + +<p>The one boy struggled, while the other jerked, +and then a rich voice drawled: "Please come +back, old man, for if you really want to know +why I've run off to myself each spring for these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +past five years so it clean hurts you not to know, +I reckon I've got to tell you."</p> + +<p>Then Miner returned and sat down again. +His friend's behaviour was now even more +puzzling than before, for although Ambrose was +close by, his eyes had a faraway look in them, +his eyebrows were twitching, his slender nostrils +quivering, and indeed, he had the appearance of +a man having strayed off some great distance +by himself.</p> + +<p>"Swear you'll never give me away, Miner," +he began, and holding up one of his big hands in +the sunlight—his hands which were the truly +beautiful thing about him—he made a mystic +sign to which his companion swore.</p> + +<p>"You won't understand when I do tell you," +he hedged, "but I've been comin' away off to +myself every spring since I was a boy on account +of the 'Second Song of Solomon.'"</p> + +<p>And at this Miner groaned, shutting his near-sighted +eyes. "Lord, he's the chap that had a +thousand wives!"</p> + +<p>Then back to earth came Ambrose, his blue +eyes swimming in mists of laughter and his +shouts waking all the echoes in the hills.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wives!" he cried, rolling his long body over +and over in the grass, and kicking out his legs in +sheer ecstasy, "Miner Hobbs, if ever you git +an idea fixed in your head, earthquakes won't +shake it. Wives, is it? Why, I ain't given +Peachy Williams a thought of my own accord +since I started on this trip, nor any other girl, +for that matter, so I can't for the land sakes +see why I have been havin' her poked at me so +continual! 'Course there wouldn't be sense +in me denyin' that I have a hankerin' for girls; +flesh and blood, 'ceptin' yours, Miner Hobbs, +cannot deny the kind we raise in Kentucky. +However, they ain't been on my mind this trip. +Old King Solomon done a lot of things besides +havin' a thousand wives—they was his recreation. +He builded a temple and founded a nation +and wrote pretty nigh the greatest poetry +heard in these parts."</p> + +<p>Here the speaker commenced pulling at the +damp earth to hide his embarrassment, and then +made a pretence of examining the soil that came +up in his hand.</p> + +<p>"It's the 'Second Song of Solomon' I'm meanin', +Miner, and I've already told you you ain't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +goin' to comprehend me when I do explain," he +continued patiently, "but bein's as it's you, I +reckon I've got to try. It's that song about +spring. Ever since I was a little boy and first +heard it, why it began a-callin' me to get away +for a little space to myself to try and kind of +hear things grow. It's a disappointin' reason +for me sneakin' off, ain't it, and foolish? I wish +I had been doin' somethin' with more snap to it, +just to gratify Pennyroyal. But at first, you +see, I didn't mean nothin' in particular by not +tellin', knowin' that folks would think my real +reason outlandish, but by and by when the +town got so all-fired curious and kept sayin' I +was up to different sorts of mischief, I just +thought I'd keep 'em guessin'." Now the long +face was quivering in its eagerness to make +things clear. "Why, it seems to me from the +time that the first green tips come peepin' up +between the stubble in the winter fields I kin +hear that Solomon Song a-beatin' and a-beatin' +in my ears. 'Rise up, my love, my fair one, +and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the +rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the +earth; the time of the singing of birds has come,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +and the voice of the turtle is heard in our +land.'"</p> + +<p>But poor Miner was making a cup for his +ear with his hand. "But turtles ain't voices, +Ambrose, that anybody knows of," he murmured +dimly; "it's frogs we hear croakin' along +the river bank."</p> + +<p>And this time Ambrose laughed to himself. +"It's croaks you're always hearin', old fellow, +ain't it?" he whispered affectionately. And +then—"I reckon it makes no difference to me +whether it's a frog or a turtle, a bird or even a +tree toad. It's the song of life, I'm listenin' +for, Miner."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>PEACHY</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Nevertheless</span>, in spite of Ambrose's intentionally +truthful declaration to Miner, for the +rest of that afternoon and evening he was never +wholly able to get free from the thought of +Peachy. However, he did not then stir from +his first shelter in the woods, finding endless +refreshment in the beauty of the Kentucky +river landscape, nor did he surrender himself +readily to the lure of the feminine; but poor +Ambrose was a victim of the strange force that +lies embodied within a universal idea.</p> + +<p>A bird appearing on the branch of a tree above +his head and bending over, peeped into his face +twittering: "Pe-che, Pe-che," as impudently as +any small Susan; then, catching his eye, with +a little mocking courtesy, flew away. A robin +hopping on the grass near the boy's side, pecked +at the crumbs left over from his luncheon; her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +full breast, her air of concentrated domesticity +somehow recalled the image of his latest affection—Peachy, +the youthful mistress of the Red +Farm.</p> + +<p>Now in setting out on this spring pilgrimage +nothing had been farther from the traveller's intention +than any dallying with his familiar weakness. +Girls—why, the years behind Ambrose +Thompson blossomed with them; never could he +recall a season since his extremest boyhood when +he had not been enchantingly in love. But +actually there was little reason why Peachy +Williams should be thrust upon him more than +another save that he was growing older and +had been devoting some time to her of late. +Besides which, she was comely.</p> + +<p>Toward nightfall the bird songs became such +intimate revelations of love that several times +the listener put his fingers into his ears in his +effort to fight their suggestions away. And yet +it was not until next morning that his decision +actually broke.</p> + +<p>And then it was not so much a matter of emotion. +But he had had an uncomfortable night +of fitful dreaming and awakened with yesterday's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +spiritual elation gone and with an intense +desire for human companionship.</p> + +<p>Rising first on one elbow, Ambrose made a remark +which has probably been considered by +the greater portion of the male creation. "I +wonder now," he asked himself, "ef bein' looked +after and made over ain't sometimes better'n +bein' free?"</p> + +<p>A very little while after this the boy cooked +his own breakfast, with extremely poor results, +and then making as pleasing a toilet as his reflection +in the river permitted, immediately set +out in the direction of the Red Farm. And no +longer did Ambrose's face show signs of struggle: +his air had now become one of peaceful acquiescence +in the laws of nature. He had no idea of +committing himself definitely, however, by this +visit to Peachy; his mind was not wholly made +up and he desired nothing abrupt or startling; +it was simply that at present a day of solitary +musing did not appear so appealing as her +companionship, and moreover, Ambrose shared +the universal masculine delusion that his was +the important mind to be made up.</p> + +<p>A sense of humour means a sense of proportion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +and therefore an appreciation of values, +so Ambrose Thompson, the young Kentucky +Romeo, was not without a certain thrifty streak. +In driving along it was not disagreeable to +reflect that the Red Farm was the richest tobacco +farm in the county and that Peachy was +its sole heiress. Not that Peachy by herself +was insufficient; Ambrose also had pleasure in +recalling the firmness of her young bosom, the +sheen of her auburn hair, the whiteness of her +teeth—and then—how frequently and how +delightfully she laughed. That her laugh was +non-committal had not up to this time troubled +her admirer, who yearned for a feminine audience +and had not yet learned to ask that this +audience be discriminating.</p> + +<p>Even feeding chickens may be made an alluring +picture, or at least Ambrose thought so, +when he had driven unobserved into the farmyard +and waited there watching Peachy, with +her sleeves rolled back, flinging the corn to the +ground. Also with his accustomed sensitiveness +to impressions the boy realized that the +girl herself was not unlike one of her own +creamy leghorn hens; she, too, was both red and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +white with her clear healthy skin, red hair, and +red-brown eyes—and then the fulness of her +figure! The young man laughed delightedly, +when turning and catching sight of him the +girl started running toward him with short, uneven +steps that yet got over the ground very +quickly, and actually when she spoke, there was +a little cluck to her voice.</p> + +<p>And yet, somehow, Peachy did not seem to feel +the same degree of surprise that her visitor did +at his own unexpected appearance. She blushed +when he kissed her hand with an ardour peculiar +to Ambrose though foreign to custom in the +"Pennyrile," but she betrayed no wonder at his +visit in the broad daylight when plainly he +should have been at work in his store. Neither +did she ask questions. Notwithstanding, after a +few words of greeting, Ambrose had the impression +of being shooed into the house, Peachy +using her white apron for the purpose.</p> + +<p>Yet this had not been his intention, for indeed +he had arrived at the farm an hour before dinner, +with the idea of taking Peachy out for a walk +and then possibly confiding to her the original +purpose of his escape from Pennyroyal; surely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +<i>she</i> could be made to understand better than +any one else, and his mood was now one requiring +sympathy. Instead, however, there was +something mysterious the matter with the +girl's costume, so that Ambrose shortly found +himself divested of his hat and duster and shut +up in a sticky parlour with the family album on +his lap for entertainment, and only one window +open to give him just enough light to be able +faintly to see and air to keep barely alive. On +entering the room his first impulse naturally had +been to fling open wide all the windows, but +hearing his hostess's cries of horror, both his +arms and his inclination had weakened. Although +truly the lawn about the Red Farm +house was exquisitely green and free from dust, +yet the thought of possible desecration to the +best parlour had the effect of reality.</p> + +<p>Now although Ambrose was miserably settled +according to Peachy's directions, and in spite of +having expressed the desire to change her dress +at once, the girl still lingered on, her face wearing +a look that troubled her suitor as it was so unlike +her usually placid and admiring one. Her red +lips were drawn, her brow puckered, her atmosphere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +one of extreme disapproval. Under the +circumstances Ambrose's forehead was naturally +moist with perspiration and his face not +overly clean, yet his clothes, notwithstanding +being somewhat crumpled and dusty, were +plainly his Sunday best.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Peachy?" he asked, first studying +himself solicitously. Then, following her shuddering +gaze across the crimson splendour of the +Brussels carpet, he beheld a track of mud made +with footprints so large that they could belong +to no other feet than his. His eyes dropped. +Surely his feet were caked with mud—mud +from the shadowy cool depth of the woods, from +the banks of that celestial river so lately deserted +by him. Yet, seeing the girl's unhappiness, +again the young man surrendered and so for a +longtime (it was hard to tell how long) continued +sitting in the same place. Peachy had gone +away, to remain perhaps till dinner time, and +taken his shoes with her. So Ambrose's feet were +now encased in a pair of hot carpet slippers, a +whole size too small for him, so that he could not +even shuffle without crumpling his toes or else +walking about in his socks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>Several times he sighed, pushing back his long +hair, a gesture with him expressive of mental +unrest. Why, oh, why, had he given up his +original plan of two days' solitary freedom and +companionship with nature? Peachy had never +seemed less alluring, and as for physical comfort +or even the pleasure of her society, had he gained +either? Cold shivers every now and then had +their way up and down the young man's spine in +the course of his meditations, notwithstanding +the warmth of the room. For he knew himself +to be easily stirred, so supposing that he and +Peachy had taken the walk together that morning +and something serious had happened! By +and by young Ambrose began to feel as utterly +uninterested in female charms, as cool and remote +as a snow-capped mountain, and at about +this moment Peachy returned to the room.</p> + +<p>She was wearing a pure white dress and, moving +over into a dark corner, smiling at her +suitor, she sat down on a small sofa. Here, by +dint of pinning his toes down into his slippers, +and letting his heels rise above them, Ambrose +managed to arrive a few seconds later. He was +close up beside her, as comfortably near as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +Peachy's starched clothes permitted, liking the +clean smell of her dress, the perfume of her +body; there were odours about her of warm new +milk, of fresh honey, of ripening fruits.</p> + +<p>And quite by accident, it seemed to him, the +girl's plump hand was laid near his, so that a +moment later it required pressing. Then the +kerchief about her full breast, rising and falling +softly, showed a hint of something whiter and +softer beneath. With surprising rapidity the +boy's recent regret for his lost holiday began +slipping away from him. The room was still +close, but a breeze blowing in from the partly +raised window fanned them both. Perhaps +Ambrose's head was swimming from fatigue +and drowsiness, perhaps from his sense of his +companion's nearness, of her readiness to fall +into his arms with his first desiring touch.</p> + +<p>"Peachy," Ambrose was whispering, when +stealthily the door of the parlour opened, and +there stood Peachy's father, his red face wearing +such an expression of amusement and coarse +understanding that instantly Ambrose felt a +return of his former coldness. His boots having +been cleaned and returned to him five minutes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +later, he followed the farmer and his daughter +into their dining-room.</p> + +<p>There the meal was a hideous one to him despite +his hunger and the good and plentiful food. +For seated at the family table, were several farm +hands, white overseers of the negro labourers, +and they made stupid jokes, shoving their elbows +into one another and grinning idiotically +from Peachy to him. Their ugly thoughts were +like palpable close presences in the room, destroying +all possible illusions for the boy, and +yet the girl herself seemed not to mind. Instead, +she blushed and bridled, sending challenging +looks at Ambrose across the spring freshness of +his piled-up plate of new potatoes, jowl, and +spring greens each time he attempted putting +his fork up to his mouth.</p> + +<p>So that after a while, inch by inch, the boy +felt himself being pushed into a corner where he +had meant to walk one day of his own accord. +And by the time dinner was over, not only had +all desire passed from him, but apparently all +will power as well. For next he allowed Peachy +to lead him to an enclosed summer house. This +summer house was some distance away from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +the big place and so shut in by carefully trained +vines that it allowed no opportunity for distracting +views or vistas beyond. It was what +one under some circumstances might have +called, "a chosen spot."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 243px;"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a> +<img src="images/i-060.jpg" width="243" height="400" alt=""The Village"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"The Village"</span> +</div> + +<p>Now there is no reasonable explanation of why +Peachy Williams, the chief heiress of "the Pennyrile," +had so set her heart upon the possession of +Ambrose Thompson. Lovers were plentiful, and +among them the rich owner of the place adjoining +her father's, and Ambrose had no fortune +worth mentioning, and, moreover, was distinctly +homely; but perhaps Peachy was drawn as many +another woman has been before—by the lure of +the unknown; for never could she have any +proper understanding of Ambrose Thompson's +temperament. Times were when he appeared +more ardent than any of her other suitors, and +then his attention being distracted, both physically +and mentally he faded from sight. Now in +contrast Peachy's own disposition was direct and +simple. At a distance from the Red Farm to +the village she recognized that her lover might +be difficult to control, but near at hand she believed +him tractable, and in a measure this was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +true, for Ambrose could always be managed by +his friends up to a certain point—only the +trouble was that at this time of life Peachy Williams +did not understand where this point ended.</p> + +<p>Like a long tallow candle slowly melting from +the heat, the young man was now lolling idly on +the narrow circular bench of the summer house +appearing so limp and dispirited that he seemed +incapable of any kind of opposition.</p> + +<p>Would the afternoon never pass? Could he +ever remember having been forced to remain so +long in the society of any one woman? So long +that he ceased to have anything he desired to say +or any possible idea that he wished to express; +indeed his mind felt as clean and empty as a slate +wiped by a wet rag. Why in heaven's name didn't +Peachy herself have something to say once in a +while? Before this day his calls had been short +evening ones, when he had had opinions of his +own and to spare. Could the time ever come in +a man's life when he might want a girl to be inspiration +as well as audience, to have an idea of +her own now and then?</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord," Ambrose groaned half aloud. If +only he could think of some plan of escape, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +in the rash enthusiasm of his arrival at the farm +had he not promised Peachy to remain all day? +And now in his exhausted condition even his imagination +had deserted him. Certainly he could +think of no excuse for getting away at once.</p> + +<p>Yet more and more depressing were Peachy's +long silences, her frequent laugh more irritating, +since Ambrose could find no reasonable excuse +for laughter in the dulness of the interminable +May afternoon with nothing to look at but the +ground at his feet, or the lacing of leaves overhead, +except Peachy, stitching, stitching everlastingly +on something so white and weblike that +Ambrose felt he too was being sewed in, made +prisoner for life.</p> + +<p>His long legs twitched, fairly his body ached +with his longing to be off, until by and by even +the girl was made to realize that things were +not going as she had reasonably expected.</p> + +<p>"What is it ails you this afternoon, Ambrose?" +she asked at last, wistful if he had but known +it. "Wasn't there something special you wanted +to say to me to-day, else why did you come so +out of your regular time?"</p> + +<p>"Why had he come?" Barely was Ambrose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +able to repress another groan. For the life of +him he could not now have told what had drawn +him that morning to the Red Farm. Whatever +desires or emotions had then stirred him were +gone, his head was heavy, his blood moved +languidly, even the necessary domestic noises of +farm life were inexpressibly annoying. Could +Peachy ever have spelled romance? Sighing +aloud Ambrose put up his hand to wipe fresh +moisture from his brow, and then coloured.</p> + +<p>"I'm afeard you're ill," the girl continued, +suddenly solicitous, and again with a movement +that suggested a motherly hen: "You're so quiet +and unlike yourself and yet so nervous and wriggly."</p> + +<p>Ambrose yawned. "I slep' out last night, so +mebbe I'm tired," he confessed unadvisedly; +then immediately observed the same expression +on Peachy's face that had been brought there by +the presence of his muddy boots in her parlour. +Her lips had tightened, though her brow was +smooth; it was that gentle but awful look of the +born manager.</p> + +<p>"I knowed you'd been doin' something foolish," +she stated calmly. "Anybody else'd remember<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +there is chills and fever out of doors these +spring nights. It's the spring that has set in +on you; your blood needs thinnin'. I'll get +you some sassafras tea." Relieved by Ambrose's +revelation, Peachy was for at once starting +off, but the young man caught at her skirts.</p> + +<p>Truly the spring was not at present working +on him nor did his blood at this hour require +thinning.</p> + +<p>"Don't go, Peachy; it ain't sassafras I'm +needin', thank you just as kindly," he said, +touched and a bit shamed by her interest. "To +tell you the truth, I'm beginnin' to feel restless +wantin' to get back to the woods ag'in. I'll +come back to see you soon," he pleaded, observing +that her head was being shaken with unmoved +persistence. Her reply was final:</p> + +<p>"You'll do no such thing, Ambrose Thompson; +you'll stay right here till your queerness has wore +off. Haven't I been worryin' over you ever +since dinner? Think I'll let you go moonin' off +now by yourself with no one to look after you?" +Like young Juno both in her majesty and plenitude, +Peachy did this time move out of sight, +leaving her victim greatly shaken.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>In a few moments Ambrose knew that a bitter +herb compound would be poured down his reluctant +throat; later he might be placed in bed between +hot blankets and more sweat drawn from +his lean frame. Really there was no limit to +Peachy's particular kind of mothering femininity, +and since her intentions were kind—Ambrose +knew himself of old—before kindness he +would go down like a struck ten-pin. Already +he could feel the blankets closing in over him, +and now in truth he shook with a chill.</p> + +<p>Soon after his tall form arose, and then +crouched as it crept forth from the summer +house, stopping only long enough to pin a white +paper to the outside arbour, when with leaps and +bounds it disappeared inside the stable, to reappear +a few moments later with old Liza +hitched to his high gig. Driving as rapidly as +possible he soon got past the outside farm gate +leading into the road.</p> + +<p>So when Peachy returned with cup and spoon +in hand she found her shrine deserted and instead +read this note pinned outside among the +vines and scrawled in the handwriting of Ambrose +Thompson:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>You were right, Peachy dear, I'm not myself to-day. +I <i>am</i> cold and my heart action is uncommon feeble, so I +think I'd best not stay to worry you. Maybe I'll be +coming back to the farm some day when I'm feeling +different.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 2em;">Your respectful</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Ambrose.</span><br /> +</div></div> + +<p>However, safe on the road, Ambrose, looking +back and catching a far image of Peachy with +his letter in her hand, decided that never again +should he return to the Red Farm. For not +only was Ambrose fleeing, but knew the reason +why. Peachy was a manager, and had that +moment in the parlour before dinner been longer—well, +thank God and old Liza, he was still +free.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, deliver me!" the boy prayed, +though being a good Baptist he knew no litany +save that of his own soul.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'> +"Even so, Love, even so!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Whither thou goest, I will go."</span><br /> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">So the</span> boy continued driving on and on, +loitering in the faint sweet-smelling May afternoon.</p> + +<p>At first after having left the farm his heart +had been troubled and his mind uneasy, burdened +by an unconscious wave of sex weariness.</p> + +<p>"Lord," he said aloud once, "seems such a +pity you didn't make all critturs the same sex; I +ain't carin' which, male or female, seein' what a +lot of trouble we might all then 'a' been saved."</p> + +<p>Naturally, so far as Ambrose himself was concerned, +he was through with the dangers lurking +in feminine society forever! He even intended +confessing this conviction to his friend and +partner, Miner, as soon as they should be alone +together, for even at the moment of his resolution +had not the boy's subliminal self whispered +that he might need strengthening later on?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>After getting well away from his danger zone, +however, Ambrose had chosen that the remainder +of his spring journey should lie through an +unfamiliar part of the state, and so had +turned his horse into every likely lane presenting +itself until by degrees the ever-increasing +beauty of the landscape wrought its effect upon +his susceptible soul.</p> + +<p>The houses along his route were finer than +those of his own neighbourhood and, being placed +farther back, showed only a chimney, or the +white fluted column of a veranda every now and +then beyond the closely planted avenues of beech +or maple trees. Sounding across the fields came +the voices of the darkies closing their day's tasks +with songs. Truly this Kentucky was a happy +land in the days before the war, and on this afternoon +there were myriads of the soft, green growing +things toward which Ambrose's young spirit +had yearned,—acres of corn just creeping above +the mould, and miles of tiny tobacco plants.</p> + +<p>Then unexpectedly this character of landscape +disappeared, and old Liza trotted on to a hard +white turnpike. The twilight was closing +down, but a toll-gate keeper showed himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +a few yards ahead, and then a cluster of small +stores. Afterward there was nothing further to +interest Ambrose until he drove straight up to a +big building surrounded by a high fence and set +in the middle of a grassless yard without the influence +of a tree or vine near it and where from +the inside came the murmur of children's voices +hushed to a pathetic, uniform note.</p> + +<p>The boy knew the place at once for a county +orphan asylum, and being what he was, reflected. +In times past he had seen these same orphans +led through the streets of Pennyroyal, a dreary +set of little human beings, dressed alike and +made to keep step like a chain gang. "Glory," +he whispered, "here am I running away from the +fear of havin' to keep step with <i>one</i> person; +what if I had been made to keep step with so +many?"</p> + +<p>The next moment brought him nearly opposite +a woodpile, and there he slowed up, for he thought +that he heard a noise behind it sounding like a +scared sheep or lamb.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" What looked like a child's figure +instantly rose and ran toward him. "Hide +me!" she gasped; "oh, please be quick and don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +ask questions." And the girl clung so tightly +to the spokes of the gig wheel that had the young +man driven on she must have been dragged like +a slave at his chariot.</p> + +<p>But of course he did no such thing. "Hop +in," he replied cheerfully. Then, while the child +crouched shivering and panting against his +knee under the thin laprobe, Ambrose whistled +to indicate his entire lack of concern in this +latest adventure, and also to suggest that he +rode alone.</p> + +<p>Pretty soon, however, he began wondering +what character of person he had rescued and +from what or from whom she was running away, +it being characteristic of Ambrose that first +he had done what was required of him, and later +had desired to ask questions. In the haste and +semi-darkness it had been impossible to tell +whether the child was a gypsy or a mere ordinary +waif, and she had looked so young—twelve +or a little more perhaps. There was +nothing much to judge by except that she was +little and light and that her eyes were dark and +shiny and she had two braids of long hair. +But by and by of its own accord the figure under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +the laprobe started talking. "Don't let anybody +take me away,—say you ain't seen me +if they come along," she pleaded in such a tone +that it was only possible for Ambrose to give a +reassuring pat to her head and then to drive +more rapidly along. Once when there was a +moment of unusual stillness he did peep under +the laprobe, only to catch sight of a pair of grateful +eyes upturned to his and to jerk back his +hand from the touch of cold lips.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes of what had seemed totally +unnecessary hiding, as there were few vehicles +abroad on the turnpike at this late hour, and +then both the occupants of the gig heard a furious +pounding of a horse's hoofs behind them and +knew that something or some one was being +pursued.</p> + +<p>The girl's clasp tightened, and Ambrose could +catch, not the words, but the sound of a prayer. +Harder than ever before in all their ten years of +friendly intimacy the boy now spurred on old +Liza. It might have been just as well had he +known why he was being thus chivalrous, but +there had been no opportunity so far for finding +out, and everything in Ambrose played gallantly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +with this new adventure. He was still a +boy with a boy's love of mischief, of hiding, of +winning in any kind of game, and susceptibility +to instant sympathy.</p> + +<p>Old Liza was a retired racehorse, and although +her retirement dated some years back, still she +was subject to spurts of speed. However, the +best of spurts won't hold out long, and soon her +driver realized that the wagon behind was gaining +on him every moment.</p> + +<p>"Keep still!" he ordered, deliberately pulling +up short in the middle of the road. With a +quick movement, seeing that the truant was completely +hidden, he set his carpet-bag up on his +lap, and, opening it, began rummaging among its +contents. When the other wagon was within +hailing distance he turned slowly about.</p> + +<p>"Thank the Lord for trifles, stranger," he +called. "I wonder now if you would mind pausin' +and givin' me a light; I got my pipe and tobacco"—he +held out an old-time corncob pipe—"but +maybe you be hurryin' on to a sick person."</p> + +<p>Naturally the other man hesitated. Ambrose's +solemn long face was fairly plain to view, also his +manner of having all eternity before him. Eying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +him suspiciously, the newcomer thrust forth +his own lighted pipe, Ambrose managing to keep +his carpet-bag between them.</p> + +<p>"You ain't seen anything of a runaway girl?" +the man asked.</p> + +<p>Ambrose nodded with irritating precision, the +time being consumed in scrutiny of his questioner's +face. The man had lantern jaws, small, +hard eyes, and an expression of official authority +peculiarly annoying to certain members of +the laity.</p> + +<p>"There was a girl a piece back hidin' behind +a woodpile; thought maybe she was playin' +hide and seek." Here the speaker laughed. +"Reckon you suspicioned she was a pretty fair +runner if you're chasin' a girl along the high-road +with that horse. Most any human would +have had the sense to hide." Here the reins +flapped on old Liza's back and she took a few +steps forward.</p> + +<p>Evidently Ambrose's words had not been without +effect, for the stranger did not hurry on at +once, neither did he reveal any misgiving in connection +with the young man nor the amount of +property being transported at the front of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +gig, for the country people of that day were +accustomed to doing their own carrying.</p> + +<p>Safety with honours! A smile began playing +about Ambrose's face, when suddenly a kind of +miniature convulsion shook his leg, followed by +a choking, spluttering noise that was plainly a +terrified sneeze.</p> + +<p>And instantly the hand of the man in the +wagon reached forward, but he was not within +reaching distance, and at the same instant Ambrose, +seizing hold of his passenger, made a flying +leap from the gig. Then catching the girl's +hand in his he ran with her, ran gloriously, +hardly conscious of the light figure being drawn +along. All day his long legs had been cramped +with sitting still; this, then, was the thing that +he had most desired: leaping ditches, tearing +across ploughed fields to the woods ahead, with +the frightened girl panting but keeping close +to his side, and behind them the enraged, shouting +figure of officialdom.</p> + +<p>Once in the woods the hiding was easy; twisting +in and out among the trees not only did +Ambrose lose his pursuer, but himself. For if he +had counted on anything, which he probably<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +had not, it was that the man would not run +after them for any length of time, leaving his +fast horse to stand in the road.</p> + +<p>Finally, the girl and boy both dropped down +on the ground. The long May twilight was +past, still they could see the outlines of each +other's forms, and Ambrose could hear the +beating of the girl's heart against her frock like +the fluttering of an imprisoned moth.</p> + +<p>He could not help reassuring her. "You're +safe, sis, don't worry," he drawled. "Keep still +and maybe in a minute I'll find some water."</p> + +<p>But she would not let him leave her, and +tagged along until they finally discovered a +little stream. Then, as Ambrose had some +stale bread in his pocket, together they feasted +for a short time, when, as the moon of the +night before had come out again a trifle larger, +Ambrose decided to inquire concerning his +companion's plans. She now seemed entirely +peaceful, and, though rested, had made no mention +of moving along. However, for some time +longer he watched her with that solemn stare +of his. She was chattering gayly enough about +nothing ("there was never a time when a female<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +wouldn't be able to talk," he thought), +but by and by she <i>must</i> be interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I wonder now," he said when there was no +longer any sound either of fear or fatigue in her +voice, "if you would kindly be tellin' me which +way you would like to be goin' and what friends +you was plannin' to run to to-night when I +picked you up back on the road? I ain't to say +acquainted with this part of the country, but I +reckon I can help to find them. It's gettin' +late and I ain't easy in my mind about Liza."</p> + +<p>For some absurd reason he felt himself placed +upon the defensive.</p> + +<p>The girl was shaking her head. "I ain't no +friend but you."</p> + +<p>Ambrose whistled. "Well, bein's as I am +what one might call a recently adopted friend, +maybe you'll so much as tell me where you're +thinkin' of spendin' the night."</p> + +<p>"I ain't thinkin'," was the answer, and at this +Ambrose swore softly, though you may count +on his having sworn under his breath.</p> + +<p>"Look here, you got to tell me a straight story. +I ought to 'a' made you before," he confessed. +"I reckon I knew you were runnin' away from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +that orphan asylum and I kind of wanted to +help, even more when that fellow came after you, +but we can't go traipsin' around all night, and I +got to find Liza. You oughtn't to have run +away from a good asylum if you hadn't no +friends."</p> + +<p>Ambrose knew himself for a liar before the girl +on the ground began rocking herself back and +forth with her hands clasped over her knees.</p> + +<p>"I ought to, I ought to, I ought to," she repeated +until her words had the swaying influence +of a chant. "You know nothin' about it. I +have been in that place so long I can't remember +anywheres else. How can I have friends? I +don't know nobody, I don't love nobody, I ain't +nobody! Why, there's mornings when I get up +and lookin' at the other orphans, seein' we are +dressed alike and got to do the same things at +the same time all day, I begin to think maybe +there ain't any <i>me</i>. I'm just one of them—any +one." She began crying now, but that did not +interrupt her passionate speech. "I've been +thinkin' of runnin' away a long time. P'raps I'll +have a hard time; I don't care. Ain't I a right +to find out?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>And this of course the young man could not +answer, so he only passed his hand over his brow. +"Well, you might 'a' stayed at the asylum a +little longer," and then because he was Ambrose, +"or at least till I got safely past that woodpile."</p> + +<p>"I was too old," she defended. "I ought not +to have stayed so long as I did, only nobody +knew what to do with me." She was looking up +into her companion's face close, that she might +find something more of help in it. "Maybe you +know some one that might want me? I know +lots of things, cleanin' and cookin' some——" +She would like to have continued to pour out +her poor list of accomplishments, but Ambrose +stopped her.</p> + +<p>For some time the fear had been growing upon +him that the child he believed himself to have +rescued was not so much a child as he had first +supposed. Of course he had never seen her very +plainly and there was nothing to judge by in her +short, scant dress. "Would you mind," he now +inquired, "tellin' me just about how old you +are?"</p> + +<p>"Sixteen."</p> + +<p>Ambrose groaned. For in Kentucky half a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +century ago, you must remember, sixteen was +thought an age nearer that of a woman than +of a girl.</p> + +<p>"Then I've got to take you back to the orphans," +he announced.</p> + +<p>However, his declaration had not even the distinction +of being listened to, for the girl, with her +chin sunk in her clasped hands, was plainly +thinking of something else. Now she put one +hand timidly on his coat sleeve, and Ambrose +could see that she had a curiously pointed chin +and that her eyes were like deep wells with the +moonlight shining down into them. "Maybe +you'll tell me where <i>you're</i> thinkin' of stayin' the +night?"</p> + +<p>"The Lord knows <i>only</i>." And here yesterday's +adventurer had a sudden vision of himself +setting forth on his journey to be alone with nature. +On the morning of the second day he had +been almost caught in a trap of his own setting, +and now at nightfall was probably in a worse fix. +"I had been thinkin', though, of spendin' the +night somewhere peaceful-like in the woods," he +growled.</p> + +<p>The girl clapped her hands together and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +yawning, drew closer to her new friend, almost as +if she meant to rest her head upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Then let me stay with you, please," she +begged, and Ambrose could feel her warm breath +on his cheek. "The woods is big and there's +plenty of room for me, too. I shan't be afraid +with you, and I've never seen the stars, except +through the window."</p> + +<p>The boy rose. "No," he said harshly, "you +can't stay alone in the woods at night with me. +I reckon before this I understood you didn't +know nothing."</p> + +<p>Half an hour afterward they found old Liza +cropping grass, a little off the main road where +they had left her. When both of them had +returned to the gig Ambrose drove on in silence +with an uncommonly bored face.</p> + +<p>Later the moon went behind a cloud and a +light mist fell, and then the girl's body began +swaying gently backward and forward. Once +she fell too far forward, when, still frowning, her +companion slipped an arm about her, and a moment +later she was fast asleep with her head +resting on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Ambrose breathed deeply of the odour of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +fresh wet earth. It was like the perfume of her +young body; the moist curls about her face like +the damp tendrils of new vines. Soon the boy's +shoulder ached, and his entire left side, including +his leg, seemed to have gone to sleep. Now and +then he wondered if it ever should wake again in +this world; and yet try as he might Ambrose +Thompson could not make up his mind that he +actually disliked the presence of the girl with +him, and never from youth to old age had he the +talent for deceiving himself.</p> + +<p>"Poor kid," he murmured more than once, +"she must 'a' been lyin' awake nights plannin' +to run away, with no place on God's earth to run +to."</p> + +<p>Seldom did he allow himself the pleasure of +looking long at her, and only once did his lips +move toward hers, and then, though his face +worked, they were drawn sharply back.</p> + +<p>"Lord!" he whispered after this, "whatever +shall I do with her?" A stranger in that part +of the country himself, he knew of no one to ask +to shelter the girl, and take her back to the asylum +he would not. Should he turn her over to a +stranger she would promptly be sent back there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +in the morning. Yet here were the lights of a +village showing close ahead of them, and every +now and then old Liza stumbled, almost falling +from weariness.</p> + +<p>Ambrose's prayer half awakened the girl. +Anyhow, she sat up for a moment rubbing her +eyes, to hear him asking: "Whatever is your +name?"</p> + +<p>"Sarah," and then her head swayed again.</p> + +<p>But Ambrose sat straight up giving his +reins an unexpected joyous flap. "Glory, why +ain't I thought of it before?" he asked of no one. +Then aloud: "When Abraham drew near to the +land of the Egyptians didn't he admonish Sarah, +his wife, to say she was his sister that it might be +well with him and that his soul should live?" +He grinned silently. "I'm findin' the patriarchs +pretty useful this trip, but I reckon if Abraham +could say that his wife Sarah was his sister to +save his <i>own</i> skin, I can tell the same kind of a +one to save a girl."</p> + +<p>"Wake up, Sarah," he urged, when a few moments +later he drew rein before a red brick tavern +door, "and if anybody asks questions, recollect +you are to say you're my sister."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>However, on that same evening, when Sarah +put up her lips for a sister's good night kiss, it +was the boy who turned away. There was something +in this girl that called to him too strongly, +something fragrant and as yet unawakened, and +then he had not dreamed she was so pretty, with +her scarlet cheeks and big, heavy-lidded eyes, +some poor little child of Eve from a far different +land than his blond Kentucky. It looked, too, +as though the little force the girl had, had now +spent itself in her one effort of running a way, and +hereafter some one would surely have to look +after her. "Not only had she never been taught +at the asylum to think for herself," the boy reflected, +"she ain't never even been allowed to."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless the girl slept untroubled in her +high-post bed in the best guest chamber of the +tavern, while Ambrose in a tiny room close under +the roof, lay awake for a long time. He was not +in the woods alone as he had dreamed of being, +and yet he was not unhappy. He was not listening +to the voices of nature as he knew her, but to +the stirrings of his own blood, to the beating of +his own heart.</p> + +<p>More than once in order to stay his restlessness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +Ambrose had risen from his bed and stood +leaning and looking out of his window at the +stars and breathing deep the odours of the night. +Still he could see nor feel nothing except the presence +of the strange girl near him, the appeal of +her utter helplessness. And yet the boy did not +understand that the song of life he had come +forth to hear was being sung to him for the first +time to-night. For he only kept repeating to +himself over and over: "Whatever am I to do +with her, poor little kid?" until he also fell +asleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE RETURN</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It was</span> the fourth morning since Ambrose's +departure, and county court day in Pennyroyal. +The hour was just before noon, so the men had +already left the court-house and were standing +around in groups talking politics, while the +younger ones paraded, walking shoulder to +shoulder for mutual support and encouragement. +The main street was also fluttering with girls, +a variety of household errands having brought +them forth at this hour; on their arms fresh sunbonnets +trembled, in their eyes wonderful things +danced, and indeed almost all of them were fair. +Yet in the doorway of the drygoods firm of +Hobbs & Thompson Miner Hobbs stood wrapped +in gloom; the girls had giggled for him and at +him vainly. More than eighty-six hours had +passed bringing no word from his partner.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a vibration swept through the air as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +tangible as the pealing of bells. Ambrose was +on his way back into Pennyroyal. The news +must have had its origin somewhere out of sight, +for now it was travelling swiftly by word of +mouth.</p> + +<p>One moment the older men ceased arguing +and spat widely, the girls turned their eyes away +from their admirers, even the youths glanced up +the hill, for the story grew that not only was Ambrose +returning, but that he did not ride alone.</p> + +<p>By and by, though still some distance off, +Miner beheld old Liza drawing the familiar gig. +About her neck hung a garland of buttercups +and daisies, above one twitching ear appeared a +bouquet of wild flowers and sweet fern tied with +flowing streamers of white cotton-back satin +ribbon, while upright on the floor of the gig stood +Ambrose.</p> + +<p>As the equipage advanced Miner leaned +against his door frame.</p> + +<p>Ambrose was wearing a new stove-pipe hat, +his swallow tailed coat revealed a new beflowered +waistcoat, and in his buttonhole blossomed a +rose. But Miner swept details aside. On Ambrose's +face was the expression that has lit up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +the world, and by his side rode a strange girl +never before seen in Pennyroyal.</p> + +<p>Ambrose was bowing from right to left, waving +his hat in joyous circles of greeting, while the +girl clung with one hand to an end of his coat +and with the other clutched her paper-flower +bouquet.</p> + +<p>When the gig had turned the corner into Linden +street and was moving on toward the rose +cottage the news of its approach had preceded +it, for the wooden sidewalk close by was lined +and there in the forefront stood Susan Barrows, +her hands on her hips and her bunches of corkscrew +curls bobbing.</p> + +<p>"Where on earth did you find <i>that</i> girl, Ambrose +Thompson?" she called out as soon as the +couple were in hailing distance.</p> + +<p>Ambrose drove closer. "I didn't <i>find</i> her, +Miss Susan," he answered, lying like a saint.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barrows' eyes bored like old gimlets +sharpened from long use. "She's too young to +be your housekeeper, and she ain't ugly," she +said. "The town'll talk."</p> + +<p>But now Liza had stopped of her own accord +in front of home, and Ambrose, letting go of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +reins, put his arm about the girl. Under the +new poke bonnet her face was pale except for the +scarlet of her lips and her dark eyes that never +left their refuge.</p> + +<p>The sensitive point to her companion's long +nose quivered. Coming toward them he could +see Miner's six pink-and-white, blond sisters, +and in their wake the dark little man. Miner +was walking like a man at a funeral, with his +head bowed, and that he did not wear a band of +crêpe upon his arm was only that he had lacked +opportunity; everything else suggested a pall. +At the same instant, round the corner of the +cottage, trotted Moses, waving his tail and +wearing a smile of forgiveness. One look, and +ignoring his master's friendly whistle, the little +dog disappeared, not to be seen again for three +days.</p> + +<p>Silently Ambrose lifted the stranger down to +the boardwalk and with his arm still about her +turned to face Susan. Perhaps there was something +of appeal in the familiar solemnity of his +gaze and in his whimsical drawl:</p> + +<p>"We'll let the town talk, Susan, won't we, or +it'll bust?" he replied quietly. "No, ma'am,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +she ain't my hired housekeeper; no ma'am, she +ain't no relation of mine; that is, no born blood +kin." With this he began leading Sarah to the +shelter of his own yard and, drawing her in, +closed the gate.</p> + +<p>"But we're pretty closely related, Susan." +Purposely Ambrose's voice was raised. He then +took a few irresistibly jubilant steps backward +and forward, swinging the girl with him. "She's +my wife!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> +<h2>PART TWO</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>HIS SECOND WIFE</div> + +<div class='center'> +"<i>Heaven mend us all</i>"</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>RECONSTRUCTION</div> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">How</span> long has it been since, Mrs. Barrows?" +asked the Baptist minister.</p> + +<p>"Eight years, Brother Bibbs," Susan answered.</p> + +<p>They were standing in front of Susan Barrows' +cottage one late June afternoon in the +summer of 1866.</p> + +<p>The minister sighed, flapping his worn coat-tails +as a signal of distress. Mrs. Barrows was +gazing at the house next door. There the lilac +bush which had showed its first blossoms on +that morning of Ambrose's runaway had grown +to full estate. Its season having passed, however, +it was no longer in bloom, but instead, the +climbing rose, known in the South as the "Seven +Sisters," was spreading itself above the front +door, bestowing its flowers against the background +of the once rose-coloured cottage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>Susan's black curls moved reminiscently, eight +years having wrought no changes in her beyond +the deepening of the original plan. "Yes, eight +years since Ambrose Thompson brought that +orphan child home, and two since she passed +away. Seems that Ambrose wouldn't never +have got off even one year to the war if she +hadn't gone on before, seein' as she wasn't never +willing to let him out of her sight a minute longer'n +she could help."</p> + +<p>"A deeply affectionate nature," remarked the +minister.</p> + +<p>"A powerful clinger," retorted Susan, "but +men is forgivin' to regular features with a high +colour." She turned at this instant to look +down the street. "I call it chokin' myself to +hang on to a man the way Sarah done to Ambrose +plumb up to the hour she died. What's +always needin' proppin' ain't to my mind worth +the prop. Howsomever, the child is dead, and +I'm hopeful death does change us right considerable, +though I can't see as it changes nothin' of +what we were nor what we done in this world—and +more's the pity!"</p> + +<p>Assuredly Brother Bibbs was growing restless,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +and Mrs. Barrows talking to cover time. +For five minutes before had she not seen him +attempting to sneak past her gate to gain refuge +in the Thompson cottage unobserved before its +owner could possibly have returned from work?</p> + +<p>Then, too, the minister's face was uncommonly +harassed, and these were disjointed days in the +Pennyroyal as well as throughout the entire +country. True, the Civil War was over, which +Susan called "the uncivilest ever fit on God's +earth," but while its wounds and differences +were patched up they were by no means healed. +And Pennyroyal's disposition to regard herself +as one family had made her dissensions peculiarly +bitter. There were times in this past year since +the close of the war when the minister had wondered +if it had not been the bitterest year of all, +for notwithstanding that Kentucky did not +suffer from reconstruction as the states further +south, remember that she was, during and after +the war, a state divided within herself.</p> + +<p>There was trouble in the Pennyroyal air this +afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Susan," Brother Bibbs suggested, +as getting out his pocket handkerchief he removed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +a slight moisture from his eyes. "Ambrose +and Sarah loved one another, that was the +main thing. Theirs was a spring mating, and, +like the birds whose season they chose, brief, +too brief in passing." Attempting now to move, +Brother Bibbs found it impossible, since in his +moment of sentiment Mrs. Barrows, leaning +over her fence, had linked her arm through his.</p> + +<p>"Well, thank the Lord the little love bird +didn't leave a young one in the nest for me and +the male to look after," she argued more leniently. +"Come right on in, Brother, and rest +yourself, as I kin see Ambrose and his two +shadders advancin' toward us up the street, and +a peskier pair of shadders than Miner Hobbs +and that dog, Moses, I ain't never seen, but it's +true the two of 'em ain't left Ambrose to himself +a minute since his wife died."</p> + +<p>With her free hand Susan now waved a friendly +greeting, even releasing at the same time the +vigour of her clutch with the other, for Brother +Bibbs was a fragile gentleman, an elderly widower, +and, excepting in matters pertaining to +heaven or hell, greatly subject to the sisters in +his congregation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>Also the three figures were almost in plain +sight, the little man leaning as usual on the arm +of the tall one, with Moses following but a few +steps behind.</p> + +<p>Miner Hobbs walked with a slight limp. +Wounded in the battle of Resaca, he had never +entirely recovered, and although not yet thirty +years old already showed signs of advancing age +in his shrivelled appearance, like a nut whose +kernel has failed to ripen.</p> + +<p>Moses, however, was remarkably well preserved +and, barring a stiffness in his legs and a +few grizzled hairs, lighter of heart than in many +a year. For since that girl who had come to his +home had suddenly gone away with equal mysteriousness +his master was once more his slave.</p> + +<p>On the surface Ambrose seemed to have +changed more than either Miner or the dog. +His face had lost its look of easy laughter, the +crow's feet about the corners of his eyes spoke +of nights of hard service. Perhaps he was even +longer and leaner than ever, while the hair upon +his forehead was slowly beginning to recede like +a wave from the shore.</p> + +<p>Now his familiar spirit of fun took hold on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +him. The little man was talking to him earnestly. +"Go easy, Miner," he whispered, bending +his tall head, "ef you want to keep your secret +from the women; there's Miss Susan less'n a +block away." He also continued his teasing +even after joining the minister and Mrs. Barrows, +managing in a few moments to pass with the two +men into his house, leaving the lady bristling +with anger.</p> + +<p>"There's somethin' fermentin' in the head of +every man in this here town," she flared, coming +out on to the sidewalk and then following the +trio into Ambrose's yard the better to deliver +her message, "somethin' you're hidin' from the +women, and what men keeps to themselves ain't +no good and never was! Suppose we ain't noticed +you plottin' new mischief together? Like +it wasn't enough," she ended bitterly, "that +women has had to bear a war, go half starved, +and do man's work as well as their own 'thout +bein' asked whether they'd like a war or not. +Wonder if the good time's comin' when women +kin reveal what they think and not have +to stand fer the things they don't have no hand +in the makin' of."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>Although during this tirade her audience had +disappeared, eternal vigilance was forever Mrs. +Barrows' motto. So now she went on with her +watching, while the three men remained a long +time inside the cottage, and by and by, when +darkness had fallen, other men with their faces +hidden followed in after them. Soon these men +came out, and last of all Miner, Ambrose, and +Brother Bibbs. Miner was scowling; nevertheless +his scowl was concealing an expression of +triumph; the minister's figure plainly showed +defeat, but Ambrose, whatever his former look, +laughed aloud, catching sight of his neighbour +through the gloom, standing on a kitchen chair +and leaning across the dividing rails between her +house and his in order to peep through the closed +slats of his sitting-room window.</p> + +<p>"Look out, Miss Susan, the meetin' is over, +and high places is rickety," he called suddenly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barrows started guiltily, accomplishing +her own downfall, and over she went with the +wreck of her chair, only to spring up so quickly +afterward that her hoopskirts appeared to carry +her higher than the laws of gravity.</p> + +<p>Although assistance from Ambrose arrived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +too late, still he lingered. "Ain't you no faith in +what men undertakes 'thout advice from women, +Miss Susan?" he inquired, and when that lady, +breathless for once, was able only to shake +her head, he gave her a slow, anxious smile, whispering, +"I'm none too sure but you're right," +before moving along.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding, at midnight on the same +night Ambrose and Miner were riding side by +side through the Kentucky woods at the head of +a small cavalcade that had come together silently +on the outskirts of Pennyroyal. The riders +wore masks, excepting Ambrose, who, with face +uncovered, squirmed restlessly upon the sunken +back of old Liza.</p> + +<p>"The men have give their word there ain't +nobody goin' to git hurt," he repeated three or +four times, until finally Miner turned upon him.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe you'd better not have went, Ambrose, +ef you haven't the nerve," he remarked testily.</p> + +<p>And at this the tall man stiffened. "It ain't +nerve, Miner. I just ain't never liked a ten-man-against-one +game in my life, and I ain't hidin' +my sentiments. No more than the rest of +you do I want this Yankee teacher bein' brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +into Pennyrile to show us <i>our</i> business, but I'm +with this crowd to-night to see he don't get hurt +'cept in his feelin's."</p> + +<p>"He's got to git, notwithstandin'!" Miner's +attitude was that of a fierce little dog, who even +when he couldn't change a situation liked to bark +in order to hear the noise.</p> + +<p>These men had both fought on the Southern +side in the Civil War, but with a difference. +Miner had plunged into it at once with pigheadedness +and with passion; the full story of why +Ambrose had failed to go south when his comrades +did has not been told by Mrs. Barrows. +At that time most men's hearts were on the one +side or the other. Ambrose Thompson's heart +was on both sides at once. Indeed, during the +first hateful years of the war he had felt like a +child whose equally beloved parents were engaged +in getting a divorce, and not until after +Miner was wounded and the South had showed +herself the weaker did he heed her mothering +call. And then he was never much of a success +as a soldier because of his habit of so frequently +misplacing his gun while he helped on a weaker +brother, and because of his never having been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +known to fire at anything in particular. Still +his companions did not count him a coward, +merely recognizing that his imagination had a +longer reach than theirs.</p> + +<p>Kentuckians, however, have not the grace of +easy forgiveness, and also have a fixed determination +to attend to their own affairs. To-night's +expedition meant that the teacher sent from the +North into the Pennyroyal district to instruct +their coloured children must go. Not that +Pennyroyal wished her negroes to remain untaught, +"seein'," as Ambrose had said, "that +readin' and writin' ought to belong to them same +as seein' and smellin'," but because they preferred +to have time to attend to the matter themselves. +Also, the new teacher had been secretly +hurried into the county that day, driven through +the adjoining town, and finally installed in the +Pennyroyal district schoolhouse without Pennyroyal's +being allowed a chance to take even a +look.</p> + +<p>This schoolhouse was an old-fashioned log +cabin set in the middle of a clearing in a young +papaw grove, and to-night, with a light burning +in the front room, the oncoming men could see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +through a half-opened window the shadow of a +figure.</p> + +<p>Without waiting for word of command, silently +they got down from their horses, forming +a line about the house, and then one man, pounding +savagely on the closed door, shouted: "Come +out from there or we'll drag you out."</p> + +<p>There was no answer at first, and when a candle +appeared at the opening of the door the wind +blew it out so quickly that the person holding it +remained in indistinct outline.</p> + +<p>Miner, having been previously chosen as +spokesman, now advanced toward this door and +said: "Ahem!" He was feeling it a different +thing to plan to bully a fellow-man by force of +numbers and another to make so ugly a statement +to his face, while Ambrose in even deeper +embarrassment flattened his thin body against +the front wall of the cabin until it suggested a +tall plank left to rest there over night.</p> + +<p>"You got to git away from our district school-house +to-night," blurted Miner at last; "Pennyroyal +kin take care of its own coloured children +'thout help from the outside. But you needn't +be scairt, for nobody's goin' to hurt you if you go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +peaceable, but there's a horse waitin' fer you out +here and we'll 'low you fifteen minutes to clear +out."</p> + +<p>Then the little man jumped a few steps backward +and the hand of each of his companions +slipped toward the trigger of his gun. However, +whatever of danger the past moment seemed to +have had, it passed swiftly, for the weapon, held +by the lonely figure in the doorway, dropped +to the ground with a peculiar clatter, and an instant +later the voice said:</p> + +<p>"There aren't men enough in Kentucky to +make <i>me</i> run away like a thief; if I am made to +go it must be by force." The tones were low +and tremulous, but were sufficiently clear and +held no hint of surrender. Then, putting out +both hands like a child at play in blind man's +buff, the figure groped its way forth from the +cabin, moving directly toward Miner and saying: +"How can I talk with you, though, when +I can't see you? Till to-night I never dreamed +a Kentuckian would be ashamed to show his +face."</p> + +<p>Actually Miner's hand shook as he tore off his +mask, for the figure approaching him was that of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +a woman, possibly a girl, and she must have been +preparing for bed at the time the men arrived, +for her hair was hanging over her shoulders, +and through the opening of her wrapper there +showed the white glimmer of a gown.</p> + +<p>Even in the midst of his own shame and chagrin +Ambrose inwardly chuckled, seeing that for +the first time in his life Miner had to discuss a +question with a woman without his primeval +conviction that man was ordained to be always +in the right and woman in the wrong.</p> + +<p>"Madam, there has been some mistake; surely +you can see that——" he began pompously. +But the girl shook her head. "I told you I +couldn't <i>see</i> anything."</p> + +<p>Something of relief hid in Ambrose's grin this +time, for if the Yankee school teacher had a sense +of humour even the situation in which he and his +companions found themselves was not utterly +hopeless.</p> + +<p>But an impatient voice now spoke from the +crowd. "Oh, fer the love of heaven, can't you +understand we didn't know you was a woman? +Reckon we'd all 'a' come shyin' out here to drive +a woman away? You pack up your duds in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +mornin' and leave comfortable, and no more +said."</p> + +<p>"I won't," came the defiant answer. Then +changing her tactics, the girl drew nearer Miner, +and putting out one hand almost touched his +coat sleeve, although actually he seemed to +shrivel away under it. "Do let me stay, at least +for a while," she pleaded. "My father was killed +in the war; I have to make my own living and +this is my first chance. I didn't know you would +mind so much. And, please, I am not so very +Yankee—Indiana is only just across the river."</p> + +<p>There were no tears in the voice, but a sound +so suspiciously near them that ten men, shuffling +their feet, wished one of their number would +speak.</p> + +<p>At last an answer came from a long shadow +against the front wall of the cabin. "Certain +you kin stay, Miss, and thank you. Just move +on inside your house now and lock the door, for +there's some among us that mebbe won't be +anxious to be recognized later on as havin' give +you—well, a kind of house warmin' in the +Pennyrile."</p> + +<p>A moment later, while his companions were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +mounting their horses, Ambrose lingered, groping +before the closed door; soon he touched something +of strange formation with a smooth back +and a prickly arrangement on the underneath +side. "Lord, what a weapon of defence—a +hairbrush," he drawled, slipping it into his +pocket as he visioned the girl's interrupted preparations +for the night. And then when old +Liza had caught up with the others: "Boys, +ain't to-night enough to cure us of Ku-Kluxing, +or whatever you want to call this gol darn +business?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>EM'LY DUNHAM</div> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Her</span> name's Em'ly Dunham," announced +Miner shortly.</p> + +<p>Ambrose, who at this moment was arranging a +pyramid design of their new stock of calicoes on +a counter in the front of their shop in order to +get the best colour effect, looked up quickly and +then put his hand over his lips.</p> + +<p>"Whose named Em'ly Dunham?" he inquired +in a partially stifled voice, with his interest apparently +still concentrated on his work.</p> + +<p>"You know, the Yankee school teacher," +Miner growled. He was standing inside a kind +of wire cage which separated the post-office department +from the rest of the store of Hobbs & +Thompson, the charge of the mail having recently +been given to the two men.</p> + +<p>"How'd you find out?"</p> + +<p>"Letters!" The little man was assorting the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +mail with an energy that Pennyroyal's one dozen +epistles or less a day hardly justified. This was +one morning less than a week after the unsuccessful +midnight excursion.</p> + +<p>Ambrose now crossed his feet, resting his +weight on his elbows against the bales of cotton +cloth. He was staring solemnly at his partner. +"Em'ly Dunham is a pretty name, Miner; kind +of soft and gentle, yet with plenty of spirit in it. +I am reckoning some one in Pennyroyal ought +to try and make things up to her."</p> + +<p>With a sigh the other man climbed up to perch +on his high official stool. "Ain't you never goin' +to stop thinkin' of females and marryin', Ambrose? +I thought mebbe when you lost Sarah +you was cured!"</p> + +<p>Ambrose leaned farther over, shaking his head. +"No," he answered simply, "I reckon not. I +wonder ef you have ever thought, Miner, of how +much them two little words—livin' and lovin'—are +alike. I don't think it was an accident, jest +the difference of that one little letter. Not that +I intend marryin' again—I am through with +marryin' forever—it's you, Miner Hobbs, I'm +worryin' over." Here, because of his earnestness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +Ambrose left his place and coming across +the aisle looked down over the wire netting upon +his friend. "Miner," he repeated as sternly as +he was able, "your time has come. There ain't +nothin' so no 'count on earth as an old bachelor. +It's worse than an old maid and different, because +perhaps an old maid couldn't help gettin' +left out, but the Lord's given every man a chance +to improve his condition jest by askin'. Course +he may have to ask more'n one and mebbe +more'n once, but there ain't no age limit to stop +him. Then think, Miner, what chances always +lies in villages. Why, villages is nature's nunneries. +Ain't it time fer you to do a man's part?"</p> + +<p>There was silence for a little time, Miner +making no response, although from over in his +corner Moses growled in his sleep.</p> + +<p>Then the tall man coughed apologetically. +He looked tired, as though he had been awake +many hours the night before. "I didn't mean +to rile you any," he continued, "only I can't +help thinkin' that a man without a wife is like a +little boat a-floatin' on the sea of life without a +rudder and bound for nowhere in particular. +Ef you don't marry you'll be awful sorry when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +you're an old man, Miner, and ef you've been +kind of overfed on Pennyrile girls, why, this +here new school teacher——"</p> + +<p>Miner fairly bounced up and down on his stool +in his impatience. "Lord, why shouldn't I be +sorry when I'm old instead of when I'm young? +Mebbe I won't live to get old and then I'd 'a' +made myself wretcheder'n a slave and all fer +nothin'."</p> + +<p>At this second, the door opening, the speaker +collapsed, while Ambrose shot backward behind +the counter toward the rear of the shop. A +flood of June sunshine entered with the girl, and +Ambrose heard her name for the second time as +she asked the terrified Miner for her mail. He +also saw her plainly. She was twenty-five or +perhaps a little more, with hair that was brown +or gold as the light shone upon it; gray eyes +set wide apart—eyes that might at times be +cold and then shine warmly like a cloud suddenly +shot through by the sun; her mouth was +larger and her chin firmer than beauty requires, +and yet both showed curves of frequent and redeeming +laughter. She was tall, with broad +shoulders and a slender body, and there was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +about her a hint of delicate and unconscious +coquetry, noticeable as she talked with Miner +while making her purchases, the little man coming +out from his retreat to serve her and afterward +following her into the street, where he was +gone for almost an hour.</p> + +<p>In the meantime it was difficult for Ambrose +to attend properly to business, for never before +had his partner left the store during working +hours save for his meals and to attend the wedding +of his sisters, two of whom had happily +passed from his home to homes of their own. +However, no words on the subject were exchanged +when Miner curtly explained that Miss +Dunham had too many bundles for a lady to +carry.</p> + +<p>It was after this extraordinary occurrence at +their shop that Miner left Ambrose and Moses +alone for three evenings in succession, the tall man +sitting in his chair in the backyard under a ripening +apple tree, with Moses at his side and his +friend's empty chair near by. But although +Ambrose drooped every now and then, he always +smiled resolutely afterward. "It'll plumb be +the salvation of Miner."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>On the fourth night, however, Ambrose, having +gone early to bed and fallen into a light sleep, +was awakened by a knock at his kitchen door, +and on coming downstairs again found his friend +outside. "It ain't no hour to be in bed yet," +Miner snapped. Knowing the little man had +something unusual on his mind his friend led him +to their accustomed refuge.</p> + +<p>Ambrose and Miner were curiously incongruous +figures that night in the garden, for the one +man wore an oriental silk dressing-gown over +a pair of hastily put on blue jean trousers; the +gown, a scheme of deep rich colours and designs, +having drifted into the shop one day by accident, +had been seized upon by Ambrose to gratify a subconscious +craving. It was tied about his waist +with a red cord, and as he lolled back in his chair +his eyes would travel from their study of his +companion's face up toward the stars which he +could see shining through the spaces between +the leaves of his apple tree.</p> + +<p>Miner kept his eyes always upon the ground; he +had a chew of tobacco in his mouth, his lips +worked spasmodically, but he did not speak, +neither did be spit as a vent to his feelings, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +tight, small man, buttoned up both inside and +out! By and by, however, when nearly an hour +had passed in silence, he rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Reckon I'd better be goin', Ambrose; it's +gettin' late. Good night."</p> + +<p>But the tall man pushed him back again into +his chair. "Lord, Miner, is it so hard for you +to tell things, even to me?" he inquired. "Out +with it!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you go and be puttin' foolish ideas on to +me if I tell you," Miner pleaded, "but it's just +this: The women have made up their minds +to put Miss Em'ly Dunham out of Pennyrile. +Course we men tried and failed, so we give up, +but when a woman starts out to do a thing, why +she does it. Can't you think of no plan to make +'em stop, Ambrose, bein's as you've always had +a kind of way with women?"</p> + +<p>Ambrose shook his head, his homely face lined +with sympathy. Poor Miner was unconscious +of his own change of attitude toward the interloper, +but surely he must not be turned back +from the land of romance within whose gracious +habitations Ambrose himself could never again +hope to dwell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't see just what I kin do with the +women," he was obliged to confess after a moment +of hard thinking, "still ef we keep studyin' +and studyin' no doubt we kin find a way."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE FEMALE DELEGATION</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was no question—Susan Barrows inspired +and headed the female delegation which +early the next morning sallied forth to the district +schoolhouse to call on Miss Dunham. +Also, there was no doubt in the minds of any of +its members before their call was made that the +Yankee teacher would hastily retreat as soon +as she understood that the ladies of Pennyroyal +did not desire her presence among them +and, furthermore, would not have it. However, +of the result of their visit no one was informed +during the ensuing hours of that day.</p> + +<p>It was evening, before dark and yet some little +time after supper, when Ambrose, ruminating +on his back kitchen steps and worrying over the +present situation, heard a noise of pots and pans +that sounded like a skirmish of light artillery +proceeding from his neighbour's house next door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +So purposely assuming the expression of innocent +solemnity that seemed most to inflame Mrs. +Susan, he cautiously stepped across from his +back yard to hers. On the door stoop he discovered +Susan Jr., who, as the occupant of a hard +chair, had both white stockinged legs stuck rebelliously +out before her and, resting on her spinal +column, held "Fox's Book of Martyrs" open in +her lap. However, she was <i>not</i> reading it.</p> + +<p>Sensing his approach before ever he could +speak, Mrs. Barrows made an immediate appearance. +She had a saucepan in her hand and +her black eyes were wary. They were well +matched adversaries, she and Ambrose, and, +although already understanding perfectly the +object of his visit, some time must pass before +the one or the other could be forced into a surrender.</p> + +<p>"Raisin' children is killin' work, Ambrose," +Susan began at once, darting a direful glance at +her offspring.</p> + +<p>And Ambrose's voice was honey: "Most +anythin's killin' work, ain't it, Susan?" he returned, +depositing himself on the floor of her +stoop so that his long legs overhung the side<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +allowing his feet to touch the ground. "I've +heard of folks lyin' in bed and doin' nothin' but +singin' psa'ms continuous, and yet comin' to the +same end."</p> + +<p>"It's a lot peacefuller way." Mrs. Barrows' +interest was now so plainly concentrated within +her saucepan, whirling a kitchen towel around +and around in it until its revolutions were fairly +dizzying, that nothing could seem more remote +from the remarks and behaviour of herself and +her neighbour than any introduction of the subject +uppermost in both their minds.</p> + +<p>However, Susan Jr. did not belong to that +noble army whose lives were at the present +instant recorded in her lap, for, shutting up +"The Book of Martyrs," she sniffed:</p> + +<p>"I didn't do nothin' but laugh and tell the female +delegation about the King with his ten +thousand men who marched up a hill and then +marched down again," she explained.</p> + +<p>And in the face of this information what was +the use of either Mrs. Barrows or Ambrose trying +further to avoid the issue? The time had +come for a voluntary surrender.</p> + +<p>"She won't go, or at least she says she won't,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +though there ain't no use in me tellin' you, +Ambrose, bein's as from Susan Jr.'s words you've +already guessed," Susan struck in. "But when +we ladies got out to the district school this mornin' +in the bilin' sun, what do you think, that girl +came a-runnin' out to meet us a-wavin' her hand +and smilin' and pretendin' she believed we'd +come to welcome her to 'Pennyrile.' And then +before any of us ladies could speak and tell her +our errand, why, she began showin' us around +the old school-house and sayin' she knew we +would understand, 'cause we were women too, +how hard things would be for her if we didn't +help her, until most of the delegates either +plumb forgot the reason of our visitation or else +was too skeered to speak up. It wasn't so with +me!"</p> + +<p>Susan paused for a reply, but her neighbour +continued his unusual silence, the while pensively +engaged in studying the toe of his boot. +Coming farther out on to her porch, Mrs. Barrows' +belligerent black curls fluttered like a war +banner in the breeze.</p> + +<p>"Course we women knowed you men tried to +make this Miss Em'ly Dunham go, and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +wouldn't, but women ain't so easy turned from +things they sets out to do. So I told her we +didn't want no Yankee school teacher in our district, +that we were talkin' things over and meant +to get some one to teach our little darkies ourselves. +And that our intention in comin' forth +to see her had not been to say howdy, but good-bye."</p> + +<p>Here the joy of battle, even though it had resulted +in defeat, actually spread a retrospective +glow over the mind of the speaker, for, with her +saucepan resting on her one hip and her dishcloth +on the other, she was forgetting her work +in the glory of narration.</p> + +<p>"What do you think that girl done when I said +them last words to her, Ambrose? She put her +head down on the doctor's wife's bosom, bein's +as she had more'n the rest of us, and actually +shed tears, said she thought that the war was +over, and wouldn't we let her stay on for a time +until mebbe we'd like her better. And at this +the ladies was so outdone they kind of scurried +off without gettin' down to anything definite. +But I fixed up matters on the way home. I +told 'em that if Miss Dunham wouldn't go polite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +fer the askin', why, 'Pennyrile' could try and +see what freezin' out would do, so there ain't +a single woman or girl in this here town goin' to +exchange the time of day with that girl, ask her +to come in and set fer a spell or even bow to her +on the street."</p> + +<p>Still Ambrose remained silent. He knew that +Mrs. Barrows was not unkind, but that she loved +a fight for its own dramatic sake, and yet what +could he do or say to her now that would not by +the very force of opposition make things worse +for Miner's romance?</p> + +<p>Susan was growing restless, for she was missing +the clash of steel that usually came from the +striking of her neighbour's against hers.</p> + +<p>"One of the ladies said we was boycottin'," +she concluded, showing plain evidences of her +wish to retire into her own home for the night; +"seemed kind of foolish to me, bein's as there +ain't so much as a boy in it."</p> + +<p>Perforce Ambrose had now to withdraw. +And yet he said nothing, although as he moved +slowly across her side yard Susan thought she +heard him mutter: "I was a stranger and you +took me in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sternly then she ordered her offspring to bed, +but, before following her, lingered until the last +vestige of her visitor's coat-tail had disappeared, +when in feminine fashion she had the final words:</p> + +<p>"I reckon it's a good thing we ain't all took in +so easy as Ambrose Thompson."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'> +"The tides of love and laughter run<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Increasing aye from sun to sun."</span><br /> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Nothing</span> could have been more characteristic +of Ambrose Thompson than his sudden decision +to have a second look at Miss Emily Dunham. +Several days had passed since his conversation +with Mrs. Barrows, and village information had +given definite assurance that her plan for freezing +out the Yankee schoolmistress was being +put into execution. And, although little else +had had place in Ambrose's mind, so far he had +not been able to think out a plan of salvation.</p> + +<p>It was curious, however, the effect that the +thought of a possible love affair for Miner had +had upon him. Actually after their talk under +the apple tree his step grew lighter, there was +more of the boyhood spring to it, and the stoop +in his shoulders that had showed after Sarah's +passing certainly became less apparent; even his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +smile unconsciously offered more encouragement +to well-meant feminine sympathizers in Pennyroyal. +For such was this tall man's love of romance +that the music of it sounding for another +had awakened his own vibrations. Also he had almost +driven Miner crazy in his repeated efforts to +blow on whatever he considered signs of smouldering +passion in his friend until one afternoon, +when Miner had fairly pushed him from the +shop in order to have peace, coming home to his +empty cottage and feeling a sudden horror of its +loneliness, he had set out for the log cabin. A +vision of Miss Dunham, a meeting, or possibly +a conversation with her, doubtless would add +the spur his imagination needed in her defence. +For poor Ambrose was blind to the fact that he +had any interest but Miner's before him, exquisitely +unaware that he had lately been growing +weary of his own deserted altar and the life of +high abnegation he had planned for himself, +although once or twice he had wondered, if he +lived to so great an age as fifty, how he could +possibly endure so many lonely evenings.</p> + +<p>July in Kentucky brings a swift maturity. +Already ears of corn were full ripe in their sheaths<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +and the other grain bowed by its own abundance. +Yet Ambrose took little of his accustomed interest +in the landscape. Rapidly he walked in +spite of the heat and as rapidly evolved and set +aside his plans for aiding Miner and Miss Dunham. +He knew his own people; the girl had +been sent into Pennyroyal by the Freedmen's +Bureau, a product of the Civil War hated by +most Southerners; and while Pennyroyal might +not mean to be cruel, her pride and clannishness +had no parallel outside of early Scottish history. +And, in spite of Kentucky's far-famed hospitality, +truly there is no other place in the world +where an outsider may be made to feel so outside.</p> + +<p>Finally when he had come to the edge of the +clearing and could see the log school-house ahead, +Ambrose was weary, and so sat down on the +stump of a tree. He should have preferred to +go boldly to Miss Dunham's door and ask that +she talk with him, but while his courage had carried +him thus far, the recollection of his first +visit to her halted him at this spot. Surely the +girl would some time come to her door or else be +taking a walk through the woods, for the papaw +grove of small slender trees was thickly shaded,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +cool and still, many of the birds that earlier inhabited +it having flown farther north, while for +those which remained behind it was a season of +home responsibilities.</p> + +<p>How long Ambrose waited and watched he did +not know, since time is of so little importance to +a lonely man, and, moreover, he possessed a long +and beautiful patience with men and things, +even with that Providence whose ways are past +finding out. Only once did anything happen to +encourage him, and then some one did come out +of the school-house door to look toward the setting +sun, but she proved to be the coloured woman +who was Miss Dunham's sole guardian and +caretaker. Still Ambrose managed to keep +cheerful, when unexpectedly and without warning +a dreadful change came over him. His +head sank upon his chest, his delicate nose quivered, +and boyish tears sprang up in his eyes. +And this change was brought about in the oddest +fashion. Ambrose had been idly carving +his own initials in the stump of the tree where he +sat, when all of a sudden it was borne in upon him +that this was the first time in his life that he had +ever carved his own initials without some girl's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +to entwine with them. And this brought such a +longing for Sarah that Ambrose straightway +forgot both Miner and Miner's cause, remembering +only his own loss and the single plate and cup +and saucer that must be waiting for him on his +supper table at home.</p> + +<p>"Lord," Ambrose whispered, "I'm all in." +Then leaping up from his seat he started running, +running away from the thought of himself. +He must have appeared rather like an animated +scarecrow with his straw-coloured hair, his long +arms flopping and his legs covering such stretches +of ground that his coat-tails stood out straight +behind, for in deference to a possible meeting +with a young woman Ambrose was wearing the +swallow tail and carrying the stove-pipe hat of +his wedding journey.</p> + +<p>He stopped, however, when the mouth of an +old war pistol was suddenly placed in front of +his left shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Please don't move," its owner said tremulously.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 259px;"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a> +<img src="images/i-127.jpg" width="259" height="400" alt=""He stopped when the mouth of an old war pistol was suddenly placed in front of his shoulder"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"He stopped when the mouth of an old war pistol was suddenly placed in front of his shoulder"</span> +</div> + +<p>And Ambrose's lips twitched as he answered +politely, "I ain't a-goin' to," and then he kept absolutely +still, noticing that the arm that held the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +pistol was trembling nervously and that the girl +at the end of the arm wore a yellow sunbonnet +and a primrose covered dress, and that the face +within the sunbonnet was possibly a shade paler +and more startled than his own.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry if I frightened you," she apologized +after a little further study of her companion, +"but I am so often alone in these woods and now +that the war is just over and things so unsettled +I thought it best to carry my father's pistol, and +you startled me so running toward me."</p> + +<p>Ambrose inclined his head, not daring to +make any further move, for the girl still held +her pistol so confidingly near the neighbourhood +of his heart; nevertheless, he was able to see that +Miss Dunham had changed since the day of her +visit to their shop. Her eyes were bright, but +the laughter lines had disappeared from her +mouth and chin, and while she still meant to be +firm, the man could see that the firmness cost.</p> + +<p>Her pistol drooped listlessly downward. "You +must not mind; it isn't loaded," she explained, +"and even if it were, I couldn't shoot."</p> + +<p>But still she handled the weapon in so ingenuous +and distinctly feminine a manner that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +Ambrose reached out. "You wouldn't mind +my having a look, Miss Dunham?" Emptying +the barrels, a single shot slid into his hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh," cried the girl helplessly, "I am so +sorry; I might have killed you." Then she +wavered for a moment and except for Ambrose's +arm might have fallen. The yellow +sunlight bathed her and her dress in a golden +light. It was a curious thing for the tall man to +have a woman's eyes so nearly on a level with +his own, though she righted herself almost instantly +and taking off her sunbonnet began making +odd pats at her hair as girls so frequently +do after almost every upsetting situation.</p> + +<p>"I didn't faint, I never have fainted in my +life," she explained indignantly. "I did feel a +little sick, because as I didn't know my pistol +was loaded I might so easily have——"</p> + +<p>"Just so," Ambrose answered gravely, and +then without rhyme or reason both of them +laughed, not just for an instant, but for the longest +time, as though one of the funniest things in +the world had just taken place; and afterward, +without asking permission, Ambrose walked back +with the girl to the log cabin. He would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +gone home immediately, then, but at her door +Emily turned to him with hot cheeks like a child +longing to make a request and yet afraid.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind staying and talking to me +for a little?" she begged at length. "You see, +it seems to me I haven't laughed for such a +long while, and I like to laugh so much."</p> + +<p>And Ambrose's face quivered in its old sympathetic +fashion. "Course I will," he almost +added "honey," but stopped himself in time. "Ef +you and I can set a while on this bench by the +door I wouldn't be a mite surprised ef we couldn't +think up some way to make livin' in 'Pennyrile' +a heap more of a laughin' matter for you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE REVELATION</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> this it was extraordinary the number +of absolutely unassailable reasons that kept +Ambrose so frequently on his way back and +forth from the village to the school-house. Certainly +twenty-four hours rarely passed without +his getting up a wholly new idea to assist Miss +Dunham, and therefore Miner, about which it +was necessary to ask her advice. And possibly +Emily encouraged him in this, for often she had +postponed or put aside a perfectly good suggestion +with the proposition that they talk the question +over later, and that Ambrose come out again +to the log cabin to see if they were of the same +mind.</p> + +<p>Of course Ambrose was extremely particular +not to permit the hours of his visits to conflict +with those of his partner, but as Miner no longer +spent his evenings with him, naturally he concluded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +that these evenings were devoted to Emily, +and therefore his appearances were usually made +during the long summer twilight. And this not +with any idea of hiding or of disloyalty, but +simply that he should not be in his friend's +way; for Ambrose's heart was singularly light +these days and the sun shone with its old +glory. Why, even the one little cloud that had +troubled him for a while had been with laughter +pushed away. On his mind during the first of +his two or three visits had been the thought that +Miss Dunham could not know of his presence in +the midnight raid.</p> + +<p>They were in the woods together one evening, +a little beyond the papaw thicket, when Ambrose, +thrusting his hand into his pocket, drew forth a +carefully wrapped up package. "It ain't a present; +it's yours already," he announced, pushing +it toward Emily with his face crimsoning, and +digging his toes into the earth like a big, awkward +boy.</p> + +<p>Slowly the girl unfolded her lost hairbrush, +and, though her eyes immediately shone with +laughter, womanlike she kept her lids down, +asking with a kind of over-emphasized wonder,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +"How on earth, Mr. Ambrose Thompson, could +you ever have come upon my hairbrush?"</p> + +<p>And in another moment Ambrose had confessed +everything of his own part in the raid, told +his story miserably and without extenuating circumstances, +and ending with the statement that +he couldn't endure to have her friendship until +she knew the full extent of his unmanliness.</p> + +<p>Then Emily allowed herself to look straight +at him and her laughter brimmed over. "Why, +I've known all along," she whispered, putting +her hand for just the briefest, comforting second +over the top of his. "Don't you suppose that I +recognized the voice coming from the longest +shadow I ever saw as soon as I saw the longest +man in Pennyroyal?"</p> + +<p>Two weeks afterward it happened as usual +that Miner and Ambrose were both in their shop +closing up for the night, but, what was most remarkable, +Miner was allowing Ambrose to do +the greater part of the work, and for fifteen minutes +had been sitting on the top of a vinegar +barrel idly whittling at a stick and every once +in a while clearing his throat as though he were +getting ready to speak, notwithstanding he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +kept his face turned from the sight of his +partner.</p> + +<p>"Looks like Miss Dunham's gettin' more +cheerfuller lately," he blurted at last, not glancing +up, but whittling so briskly that the chips +about him on the floor looked like the shorn +curls of a lamb.</p> + +<p>Ambrose lifted his face from the depth of a +large ledger where he had been laboriously writing +down the day's accounts. "Yes, ain't she?" +he returned happily; "seems like she's sorter +too big to be hurt by other folk's meannesses." +Then walking across the shop he laid his hand on +his friend's shoulder with a gesture that was +almost a caress.</p> + +<p>"You been goin' out to see her yourself considerable +lately, ain't you? So mebbe she ain't +needin' much other comp'ny," Miner suggested, +raising his eyes and then lowering them quickly +before the other man could catch his glance.</p> + +<p>Ambrose hesitated. "Why, mebbe I have," +he confessed slowly; "funny I ain't ever thought +of it in that light! You see I've been a-tryin' to +do what you asked and hatch up some scheme +to make 'Pennyrile' understand and like Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +Dunham better, but Em'ly and me ain't come +to any conclusion yet that's good enough, so I +reckon that's why I keep on a-goin'."</p> + +<p>"Em'ly!" Miner sprung off his barrel top like +he had been struck. "So it's come to that, has +it?" And by this time his sneer and anger were +so unmistakable that his companion, whose expression +had been perfectly frank a moment before, +turned a dull red and for the first time in his +life his eyes dropped before those of his friend.</p> + +<p>"I ain't callin' her Em'ly to her face, Miner, +at least not more'n once or twice," he answered +painfully, feeling himself turn hot and cold in +the same instant, and an awful weight settle itself +upon his chest. Then a relieved light broke +over him. "Mebbe now I'm thinkin' upon her +as Em'ly because some day you and she——"</p> + +<p>"Liar!" The little man, blinded with passion, +struck out somewhere into the region of +his friend's chest and, when Ambrose caught his +hands and held them, twisted and growled like a +little dog in the grasp of a big one, repeating +over and over in a thick voice, "Liar, liar, you +know you want her for yourself, you know you +love her, so what damn use is there in you pretendin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +before me?" until his rage had partly +spent itself.</p> + +<p>Ambrose had made no sort of answer or defence; +indeed, his big hands had seemed to cling +to Miner rather than to restrain him, besides +which there was something in his appearance +that would have made it hard to continue angry +with him even if you had not loved him.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know, Miner," he said at last, +hushed and frightened, "I didn't know until you +spoke it. I reckon I do love her, but now I +know I won't see or speak with her no more."</p> + +<p>Then when Miner had banged his way out of +the store the tall man, sitting down on the deserted +barrel, began to shake, and there was +shame on his face and the look of a man who has +suddenly heard that the ship on which he is sailing +must go down. For several hours he remained +in his shop, sometimes walking up and +down and then reseating himself on the barrel, +but wherever he went and whatever he did old +Moses dragged his rheumatic legs after him. +Two or three times the man patted the dog, whispering +reassuringly, "It's all right; don't you be +worryin' none about me, old fellow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was so dark in the shop that when Mrs. +Barrows, carrying a lantern, opened the door she +could not at first find Ambrose. And afterward, +when he did come toward her and her light fell +full upon his face, to Susan's eternal credit let it +be set down that she turned away her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You come along home, Ambrose Thompson," +she began sternly; "ain't I been watchin' +and waitin' for you to go by to your supper these +past two hours? It's mighty nigh time I was +gittin' to bed and I ain't able to sleep less'n my +mind's easy."</p> + +<p>Taking the man by the arm she led him toward +home, talking in a tone that few persons +had ever heard from Susan. "Whatever's happened +to you to-day, Ambrose Thompson, don't +you be scaired," she said once. "I tell you it's +the folks that things never happen to that ought +to be scaired, 'cause you're livin' and they ain't." +And then when Ambrose would have left her at +her gate, climbing up the few steps that led into +her yard she was able thus to place her hands on +his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Ambrose," she said then, "there was a neighbour +remarked to me the other day, 'Ain't Ambrose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +Thompson changed a lot since his wife +died?' I told her, 'No, folks don't change none +in what I calls their fundamentals. They alter +some; of course learnin' life don't mean to make +no exception of them with troubles, but leopards +don't stripe, nor zebras spot, nor human bein's +get made over by experiences. You been livin' +lately thinkin' you was changed entirely inside +by Sarah's death, but you ain't changed—you've +just been restin'. You've seen other folks git +over things that hit 'em as hard as Sarah's dyin' +done you, but course you thought <i>you</i> were +differ'nt." Leaning over, Susan gave Ambrose +a peck certainly intended as a kiss. "It's awful +hard, boy, to wake up sometimes, after one has +been adreamin', but I reckon you're wakin' up."</p> + +<p>Susan was correct, Ambrose's dream had +passed and by morning no mists of it remained. +Since the revelation of Miner's accusation in the +shop he had made no effort at self-deception, +understanding now why since his meeting with +the Yankee school teacher his world had been +again so strangely vivid, so full of adventure, +that even his trips back and forth to the shop had +been filled with delightful impressions, ideas that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +might some day be confided to her. For, after +all, is there not so much of life in the smallest +place in this world when you are fully alive in it, +and so little in the biggest when you are not?</p> + +<p>Then the bitterest part of Ambrose's fight was +that he knew Emily to be his real mate, knew +that Sarah had been a boy's spring fancy, but +that the summer had now set the seal of her +warmth and fruition upon his second love. +Moreover, he also knew that Emily might be +made to care for him, since love like his is rarely +without its answer.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless when dawn came he had written +this letter and taken it out to the post:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Miss Dunham</span>: I've got to quit comin' to see +you and I can't say why, except it's best.</p> + +<p>Then I haven't got the old reason, for to-night it's come +to me the way to make Pennyroyal not treat you so bad. +Can't you give out that you're sick, for if only the Pennyroyal +ladies can get the chance to take care of you they'll +be real pleased. Seems like letting people do good things +for you is the surest way to make them quit doing mean; +it's kind of human nature.</p> + +<p>And there is one other thing I'd like to say to you: It's +about Miner; he's a whole lot bigger than he looks and there +can't no man on earth beat him at loving if you'll only help +him a little at the start.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 8em;">Yours truly,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Ambrose Thompson, Esq.</span><br /> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was an odd, stiff letter, and yet that afternoon +when Emily had received it she laughed +and placed it inside the folds of her primrose +dress; although a moment afterward she sighed +with the thought of the lonely hour before +sunset.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>FOLLOWING HIS ADVICE</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">No further</span> reference was made to the difference +between the two friends, but Ambrose had +reason to believe a few days later that Miss Dunham +was following his advice; for coming out in +his yard before breakfast, after a restless night, +he was just in time to spy Mrs. Barrows climbing +into the gig with Doctor Webb, carrying a basket +on her arm and wearing so glorified an expression +that it could come of nothing but the +opportunity of ministering to the sick. For the +care of the sick gave to Susan the same glow of +pleasure that the act of creation gives to the +artist or the command of his army gives the born +general. Once stationed by the bedside of a +patient, was she not the main source from which +news of the illness must flow as well as the basin +into which all inquiries must be poured? Certainly +Ambrose had so considered her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>Moreover, that afternoon his suspicion was +justified by Miner's growling at him over the +opening of a new hogshead of molasses: "Miss +Dunham's powerful poorly," and then going on +furiously with his work as though he had never +spoken.</p> + +<p>And Ambrose did not dare ask questions nor +prolong the subject of their conversation, though +wistful to hear that Miner as well as Emily +approved his plan. However, there was little +doubt of its success, for the turning of the tide in +favour of the Yankee schoolmistress soon could +be seen, heard, and felt. Rivers of soup were +made to flow toward the once anathematized +cabin, and mountains of sponge cake and jelly +were dumped at its door.</p> + +<p>Since the day of the first visit there had +always been in Pennyroyal a small number of +women headed by Mrs. Dr. Webb who were not +so manifestly unfavourable to Emily, but according +to report they had lately been most unmercifully +snubbed and put down by Mrs. Barrows, +who would allow no one else inside the cabin and +actually barred other ministering angels from +the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hearing word of the approach of these ladies +one morning through Emily's coloured maid, +Susan came forth into the clearing to meet them +and stood waiting as usual with one hand resting +on each sharp hip. Then before any other +mouth could be opened hers was at work.</p> + +<p>"I am powerful glad, Maria Webb, that you +have had a change of heart toward the poor +young girl," she commenced, "but you needn't +try now to be gettin' inside her home after havin' +so long kep' her out of your own. Besides, she's +too sick to see no one 'cept the doctor and me. +Doctor Webb says she's real ill with chills and +fever 'cause papaw trees won't flourish 'ceptin' +where it's damp, but I call it human ague the +child's got. Talkin' about millstones hung about +your neck, they're necklaces compared to the +way women tries to drag down other women +when they start in to do something a mite +different."</p> + +<p>And this intense irritation of Mrs. Barrows +showing itself thus to her female friends even +extended to her comparatively favoured next +door neighbour, although Ambrose could not understand +the cause. Emily of course had taken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +Susan into her confidence and she was a natural +dramatist and yet why should she positively +glare at him one evening as he stood snipping +the dead stalks from the rose bushes in his yard?</p> + +<p>Indeed her disapproval was so evident that +Ambrose straightening up asked in amazement: +"Whatever have I done, Susan?"</p> + +<p>"Ain't it about time you was inquirin' concernin' +Miss Dunham?" Susan demanded; "you're +'most the only person now in Pennyrile that +ain't, and ef there's one thing I more'n another +nacherally despise it's folks proppin' up a thing +when it's standin' firm and don't need help, and +then beginnin' to ease off when mebbe it's likely +to fall."</p> + +<p>"How is Miss Dunham?" Ambrose queried, +and the older woman gave him a curious look. +"She ain't dyin' sick yet, Doctor Webb says, +but it's worse 'n he thought, 'cause it ain't plain +chills and fever; mebbe it's the typhoids."</p> + +<p>At this information Ambrose paled slightly, +but when his neighbour had disappeared into +her house for fresh clothes and supplies his expression +grew more peaceful.</p> + +<p>"Em'ly's turnin' out a lot better actress 'n I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +thought," he said to himself. "I wasn't figurin' +on her play actin' so long."</p> + +<p>He was leaning on his rake, having suddenly +lost every atom of energy, when Susan, passing +out again, dealt him another blow.</p> + +<p>"Ain't you never goin' to stop mopin', Ambrose +Thompson? I'm sick of lookin' at you," she +said. "Seems like there's nothin' on this earth +more tryin' than the way some folks act dead +'cause some one they love is. Ef the Lord +hadn't wanted you to live, man, I reckon He'd +'a' took you with Sarah. 'Tain't likely He +wants dead folks on His livin' earth!" And +then Mrs. Barrows hurried away to her charge, +having left behind her sufficient inspiration to +persuade Ambrose to finish the task of tidying +up his yard.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 236px;"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a> +<img src="images/i-146.jpg" width="236" height="400" alt=""Ain't you never goin' to stop mopin', Ambrose Thompson? I'm sick of lookin' at you"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Ain't you never goin' to stop mopin', Ambrose Thompson? I'm sick of lookin' at you"</span> +</div> + +<p>And so another week went by, Ambrose and +Miner in the meanwhile having less to say to +each other than at any time in their lives since +they had learned to speak, and never meeting +any more outside of working hours. Nevertheless +when they were together, although Miner's +manner continued surly and unapproachable, his +eyes constantly watched the face of his former<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +friend, while Ambrose never altered in his old +attitude of affection toward him.</p> + +<p>Yet on Sunday morning, as Ambrose stood +dressing for church in front of his yellow pine +bureau, without warning his bedroom door suddenly +opened and in stalked Miner. Grave +and silent he waited, until when the meeting +bell sounded, he started forth to church, leaning +as of old on the arm of his friend, and entering +his pew sat down beside him.</p> + +<p>Ambrose did not pay a great deal of attention +to the beginning of the service that day; on coming +in he noticed that Susan and Doctor Webb +were not in their accustomed places, but afterward +he seemed always to have been listening to +the August hum of the bees just outside the +raised window on his side of the pew. Through +it he could also see the deep rose of the ripening +pink clover fields, smell their almost overpowering +sweetness, till with the weight on +his chest which he never shook off these days he +wondered if Emily, who loved the outdoors as he +did, was not by this time weary of feigning illness.</p> + +<p>Then Brother Bibbs so changed the order of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +the usual Sunday routine that it must have startled +Ambrose into consciousness. The elderly +man had finished his sermon, but instead of at +once announcing the closing hymn to be followed +by the benediction, he stood clearing his +throat, his little worn face paling with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Brether'n and sister'n," he began slowly, +"there be faith, hope and charity, these three +things, but the greatest of these is charity. I +want you now to fall on your knees with me and +pray for the life of the young woman lately come +into our midst whom we, like the Pharisees of +old, have tried to cast out. I want you to pray +for that young Yankee school teacher, Miss +Emily Dunham, because she is powerful sick, +and if the good Lord takes her to Him, I don't +see just how we are coming out with the greatest +of these three things."</p> + +<p>While the rest of the congregation were falling +upon their knees Ambrose somehow got himself +out of the church, nor did he realize during the +moment of his leaving that Miner was there hanging +on to his arm. After a time, however, when +both men were walking toward the log cabin, +he turned to his friend, whispering brokenly:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I didn't know she was sick really, Miner. I +thought she was just play actin' same as I asked +her to."</p> + +<p>And Miner nodded. "My fault. I suspicioned +your ignorance, but I ain't been able to +break it. Em'ly told me of your letter soon as +it come. She hadn't been feelin' any too well +before then, though she'd sort 'er been hidin' +it, and afterward she kep' a-gettin' worse and +worse."</p> + +<p>When finally they had come near the cabin, +Ambrose sat down on the selfsame stump where +he had waited so long for Emily on the afternoon +of their first meeting, and since he would not go +inside the house Miner went in without him, +promising to bring back news. However, several +hours passed and Miner did not return; Ambrose +saw Doctor Webb leave the house, stay away +half an hour and then go back into it and remain +there. Then afterward Brother Bibbs followed +him in, and Mrs. Webb and a dozen or more +Pennyroyal townsfolk appeared clustering in a +hushed group near the little schoolhouse door.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless the waiting time did not seem +long to Ambrose Thompson, since he was living<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +over every moment he had ever spent with Emily, +hearing the sound of her laughter, feeling the +touch of her hand over his, and then remembering +how he had wondered in the days since his +surrender whether it would not have been easier +for him to have given her up through death.</p> + +<p>It was dusk when Miner laid his hand on +Ambrose's arm; he had not seen the little man's +approach.</p> + +<p>"It's past, the crisis," Miner said huskily; +"she's better and has been askin' for you."</p> + +<p>Then Ambrose rose, but he didn't move in the +direction of the cabin; instead, he began running +toward home, Miner having difficulty in keeping +up with him. And it was hearing Miner's hard +breathing behind that finally made him slow up.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't 'a' gone to her, Miner," he explained. +"Can't you see, ef I should 'a' seen +her lyin' there so white and helpless I couldn't +'a' helped takin' her in my arms and tellin' her I +loved her. No man kin bear it when it looks +like the woman he loves is needin' him."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>A LIGHT IN DARKNESS</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Afterward</span>, when the two men had parted +for the night, Miner went directly to his home, +and there in his usual methodical fashion undressed +and got himself into bed, although all +the time his dark face was twisting and working, +his mouth dry, while the mind of the man had +no knowledge of what his hands were doing. +For Miner, without understanding it, was alone +on his high mountain where every man must +stand who knows what it is to desire and to surrender. +So what does it matter that his mountain +was the attic bedroom of a cottage and that +the little man who wrestled with the devil stood +but five feet two in his stocking feet and weighed +only a hundred and five pounds, or even that his +"Get thee behind me, Satan," was so differently +put?</p> + +<p>Because when Miner's fight was over he merely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +said: "I ain't never been at all certain in my +mind that I could love a woman, so more'n +likely I've all along been mistaken 'bout Em'ly. +Seems like there ain't but one mortal thing on +this earth I am sure on and that's—Ambrose!"</p> + +<p>And yet the little man recalled nothing of the +story of David and Jonathan, and, even if he +had, could never have appreciated how their +story touched his.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, it was one thing to decide to +make a sacrifice of himself and his love to his +friend, and quite a different thing to persuade +that friend to accept it. For some time poor +Miner puzzled; Ambrose would not even go out +to the log cabin during the period of Emily's +convalescence, though getting daily reports of +her condition through him and through Doctor +Webb. Susan Barrows, for some unexplainable +reason, absolutely declined to speak to her next +door neighbour when, after the period of her +nursing was over, she had once more returned +home.</p> + +<p>There were harassed hours when unwittingly +Miner came near to laying the case before Ambrose, +being so accustomed, in all other matters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +requiring imagination, to relying on that of his +friend. It is all very well to think that he might +just have plainly stated his own change of mind +and heart, but measuring the extent of the renunciation +by what it would have meant to him, +so surely Ambrose would never have accepted +his sacrifice.</p> + +<p>No, some more ingenious method must be devised, +and Hamlet did not devote more agony to +discovering a plan for avenging his father's +death than Miner to finding a way of new life for +Ambrose.</p> + +<p>One afternoon the little man was limping +slowly along the dusty August turnpike leading +out from Pennyroyal with Moses, who, feeling +his need, had accompanied him, yet, now too stiff +to walk far, was being carried in his arms, when +the attention of both the man and dog were arrested +by the spectacle of an old darky trying +to drive a mule, hitched to a wagonload of green-corn, +into Pennyroyal, the mule having at this +point positively declined to go farther.</p> + +<p>It was inspiration in a strange guise, and yet +inspiration must necessarily come to us in the +character of the events that make up our lives.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>The darky coaxed and threatened and beat +his willow switch bare of leaves; the mule, +spreading her legs to the four corners of the +globe, remained firm. By and by the negro got +down from his seat and with Miner's aid gathered +a small pile of chips, which, with a piece of paper, +were placed under the mule and set fire to. +Then an instant later, when the mule started +trotting amiably off toward Pennyroyal, Miner's +heart began singing its own peculiar anthem of +thankfulness, and immediately afterward he +hurried off for a visit to Emily at the log cabin.</p> + +<p>On coming back to the shop so changed was +his expression and so cleared his look of doubt +that Ambrose, feeling sure Emily had just accepted +him, wished to God Miner would confide +in him and so let his darkest hour be lived +through.</p> + +<p>But Miner said nothing then. However, +when his regular hour came around once more +he appeared taking his accustomed chair next +his friend's under the apple tree in his yard. +And yet here Miner still continued mute, although +moving about far more restlessly than +usual, while Ambrose, patiently waiting for him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +to speak, felt the sharpness of his earlier desire +succeeded by a kind of apathy. Finally at some +little distance off a clock in a church tower struck +eight.</p> + +<p>"My foot itches to-night, Ambrose," Miner +announced suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Shake it," advised his listener, whose mind +was certainly on a far different line of thought.</p> + +<p>But Miner, only squirming and twisting about +the more, complained:</p> + +<p>"Seems like it's one of them things that can't +be shook off. I was just a-thinkin' it might be +better to go for a walk than to sit here so +eternal."</p> + +<p>And here Ambrose, feeling that the little man +would never get out his confession to-night, +sighed: "Suit yourself, ef you like walking better. +I reckon I kin make out the rest of the +evening alone."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Miner did not stir. Instead, taking +another bite at a fresh plug of tobacco, he +chewed on it fiercely for a moment longer. "I +was aimin' for you to come with me," he said, +"bein's as you know I ain't able to git on too +well with this lame leg."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>The soft summer night stirred in Ambrose no +inclination for movement, and indeed far rather +would he have been alone and undisturbed, yet +now getting up slowly, lifting his great height +in sections, he offered his arm to his friend.</p> + +<p>Then the two men started off together, walking +far more rapidly than usual on a summer +night's stroll, for Miner seemed to have forgotten +his lameness, and the fury of his spirit rushed +them both ahead. Every now and then, furtively, +he kept feeling in his back pocket, but +the tall man did not notice him nor was he for +some time aware in what direction he was being +led.</p> + +<p>A half moon shone in the sky, and the night +was clear and still.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly at a turn in a country road +Ambrose abruptly halted, letting his companion's +arm slide from his own. For at this turn +in the road to the end of his life must Ambrose +Thompson wake to consciousness, since from +here in the daylight could be seen the first +glimpse of the log schoolhouse, and though not +visible by night its spiritual presence was the +plainer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I ain't goin' with you to Em'ly's to-night, +Miner," Ambrose declared quietly; "it's more'n +I kin stand and more'n you've the right to ask. +I wasn't countin' on you tryin' to outwit me." +The words were spoken with only reasonable reproach, +and yet the little man turned on the +speaker fiercely.</p> + +<p>"You jist wait here, Ambrose Thompson, till +I git back, and keep on waitin' in the same place, +for ef you don't I'll never forgive you, God +knows." And off trotted Miner toward the cabin, +until his small form was lost in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Of course Ambrose waited, it having always +been his custom to give way to Miner in small +things, and, as he had grown unaccountably +weary, stretched himself full length on the +ground, and there a moment later the man felt +himself in the grip of the primal instinct that all +big men and some big women know. His will +kept his long clean body still, yet everything else +in him called out the strong man's right over the +weak. The earth that mothered him proved it +in all her moods. And yet there only a few +paces ahead of him Miner was holding Emily +in his arms. One swift rush and—here Ambrose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +checked his vision, for he would not stir one +foot.</p> + +<p>Therefore, at first, the slight crackling noise +at some little distance off made no impression +upon him, but almost at once and without his +own volition his long, sensitive nose sniffed the +odour of smoke somewhere in the woods. The +next instant a flame shot up in the air and Ambrose +with it, for the flame came directly from +the neighbourhood of Emily's cottage.</p> + +<p>"Lord!" murmured Ambrose as he ran, +"Em'ly's house is afire, and she hasn't no one +but a little runt like Miner to look after her."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE SURPRISE PARTY</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">He Ran</span> straight on into—Emily.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I—I thought your house was afire," Ambrose +announced huskily.</p> + +<p>He had stopped so close to the girl that she +caught both his hands in hers, pressing one for +an instant against her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Something <i>is</i> burning in the woods; it doesn't +matter," she answered; "but, oh, Ambrose, you +have been such a long time in coming to me!"</p> + +<p>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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I haven't come to you now," he defended +stoutly; "I was just afeard to trust you to Miner +in a fire."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>he</i> could see there wasn't +nothin' a woman could be or do that could make +up for her troublesomeness."</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking about Sarah; every woman +thinks about the other woman some time," she +confessed.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>then</i>, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +'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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless five minutes later Ambrose and +Emily both jumped hurriedly to their feet. For<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<h2>PART THREE</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>HIS THIRD WIFE</div> + + +<div class='poem'> +"<i>Is there no ending of mirth?</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Will time former unloosen</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Fresh fonts clear, bubbling, and bright</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>From the drainless youth of the earth?</i>"</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THIRTY YEARS</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Pennyroyal</span> bore witness to the permanence +of material things untroubled by spirit. Thirty +years had passed since Ambrose Thompson's +last honeymoon, and yet the little town had not +greatly changed.</p> + +<p>One afternoon in October, when from the +same double row of linden trees, with only here +and there a fallen comrade, a shower of wrinkled +golden leaves was filling the ruts in the same road +that once held the blossoms of an earlier spring, +the door of a cottage opened and an elderly man +stepped forth, humming a tune and began walking +slowly down toward the front gate. He was +dressed in gala attire and, observing a bed of +purple asters that were growing near his path, +stooped to gather one of the flowers. Getting +up with a groan, he placed a hand on the small +of his back, remarking testily: "Looks like I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +gettin' powerful onlimber these days," and then +jigging stiffly about to disprove his assertion he +placed the aster in his buttonhole.</p> + +<p>Pennyroyal was unusually stirred up over +something, for at five o'clock her streets were +filling with people in their best clothes, all moving +toward the same spot—the new red brick +Baptist church, with a cupola, which stood +where Brother Bibbs's old frame meeting house +had once held place.</p> + +<p>A carriage advanced slowly, an open Victoria +drawn by a pair of handsome Kentucky horses +and containing besides the coachman two other +persons, a man and a woman. The man was a +product of an oratorical period in Kentucky; he +had the beak nose, the rolling black eyes, long +hair and heavy forensic shoulders that had already +landed the Hon. Calvin Breckenridge +Jones as representative of the Pennyroyal district +in the State Capitol at Frankfort, while it +was a common supposition that only a lack of +money had kept him from climbing higher. His +companion, the Widow Tarwater, was the richest +widow in the county.</p> + +<p>Now as the carriage drew near the man at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +gate, the bow with which he greeted the widow +had in it the dignity and devotion of a benediction.</p> + +<p>"Lord, what a woman!" he exclaimed a moment +later in a deliciously rich and reasonable +voice. "Looks like there's some people same as +fruits, they don't noways mellow till age gets +'em."</p> + +<p>Then once more lifting his hat, the speaker, +Ambrose Thompson, now a man of almost sixty, +attempted pushing back the hair from his forehead, +apparently forgetting that his hair had +retreated so far backward over his high dome +that the few remaining locks tastefully arranged +in front suggested the ripples left by a receding +wave along a shore. Also his face was deeply +lined and his shoulders stooped considerably, and +yet in spite of these and other signs of age in +some indefinable way Ambrose Thompson had +kept his boyishness. Not having travelled +more than a hundred miles out of Pennyroyal, +nevertheless he had the eternal youthfulness of +spirit which belongs to all life's true adventurers.</p> + +<p>"Ambrose Thompson's lookin' powerful spruce +this evenin', ain't he?" A woman of about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +forty, with quick birdlike movements, shrieked +this remark into an ear trumpet which +was being held up by a shrivelled figure in a +wheeled chair that had just been projected forth +from the house next door with such suddenness +that it seemed likely to spill out its feeble occupant.</p> + +<p>The old woman's head nodded helplessly, and +yet out of her withered face her black eyes still +shone with an unquenchable fire. At this instant +Ambrose, catching sight of Mrs. Barrows, +blew a kiss across his dividing fence to her, so +that she laughed, before replying, the pleased +monotonous laugh of deafness and old age.</p> + +<p>"Ef it's an evergreen spruce you're meanin', +Susan Jr., then you're more'n right, for it seems +Ambrose Thompson's leaves are forever green +and the sap runnin' in him same as spring. But +hurry me along, I don't want to miss nothin' +of this oyster party, and mebbe ef you kin set me +right about in the middle of the new Sunday-school +room, I kin sort er reckon on what's goin' +on."</p> + +<p>The two women then moved so rapidly down +the street that they almost ran into a man who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +was hobbling in the opposite direction leaning +on a cane; his face as dry of any human emotion +as though it had been a squeezed-out dishcloth. +He was attempting to move past the wheeled +chair without speaking, when a claw hand +reached out after him. "Scared of a female +past eighty, Miner Hobbs," the old voice cheered. +"Ain't it a God's blessing no woman has run off +with you—yet?"</p> + +<p>Still at the gate the smile that greeted the approach +of this dried-up little man was as radiant +as the love of a woman.</p> + +<p>"It's mortal good of you, Miner, to be goin' +to the oyster show with me to-night, bein's as +how you hate gatherin's," Ambrose began affectionately; +"you've done give up a heap of tastes +fer me first and last, ain't you, old friend? Now +ef you'll wait here for me a few moments longer +I'll be wholly ready to join you, for I kinder +thought I'd like to speak with a few friends before +the supper begins."</p> + +<p>Ambrose started hastily back toward his front +door with such an unmistakably jaunty air, such +a forgetting of his rheumatic joints, that Miner's +ferret eyes gleamed upon him suspiciously. Besides,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +was he not wearing an historic long coat, a +strangely rusty stovepipe hat, and a white +starched shirt over which his large lavender silk +tie was crossed like a breastplate, and was he not +also revealing yards of newly gray trousered +legs?</p> + +<p>"You wasn't aimin' to speak to no one in particular, +was ye?" Miner inquired.</p> + +<p>The long man stopped, noticeably blushing, +and then, although the rest of his face remained +grave, his eyes twinkled. "S'pose you don't +know, Miner, how hard it is sometimes not to lie +to the folks you love just because you love 'em? +The Widow Tarwater druv past here a few minutes +agone, she that was Peachy Williams, and +though I ain't had more'n a bowin' acquaintance +with her fer nigh forty years, knowin' that the +Honourable Jones and our new Baptist preacher +the Rev. Elias Tupper, are both after her, I +kinder thought I'd like to see which one she +favours the most."</p> + +<p>Then Ambrose went quickly inside his cottage +while Miner patiently waited on the outside, +understanding that this moment of withdrawal +to his own bedroom before finally leaving his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +home had become his friend's invariable custom +since the death of his second wife, Emily, five +years before.</p> + +<p>In his bedroom the elderly man was standing +before his bureau, where to one side hung the +daguerreotype of a young woman.</p> + +<p>"It's mortal queer, honey," he said aloud, +"how I ain't ever able to go places or to do +things 'thout expectin' you to come along, yet +there's times when it feels like you'd been gone +from me forever and then agen when it don't +seem more'n a few weeks."</p> + +<p>He was afterward leaving the room with his +head bent and his eyes misty with tears when +suddenly a smile twitched the end of his nose +and the corners of his mouth lifted as he turned +once more toward his picture.</p> + +<p>"Lord, Em'ly darlin', wouldn't you laugh if +three old codgers was to get into the race after +the widow instid of two? I would admire to see +them sure winners beaten by a dark horse!"</p> + +<p>Five minutes later, Uncle Ambrose Thompson +as he was now called by almost everybody in +Pennyroyal, with every trace of lamentation removed +clean from his face, was walking toward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +the new red brick church, having Miner's arm +through his after their custom of more than +thirty years. Moses could no longer accompany +them, but was resting somewhat deeper under +the apple tree than had been his habit in life.</p> + +<p>While in the course of their walk Miner never +once lifted his hat, Ambrose's was seldom allowed +to rest for a moment on his head, for +women of all ages smiled upon him and children +breaking away from grown up hands came to be +tossed in the air by his long arms. Uncle Ambrose +had grown very popular with the children +of Pennyroyal since the death of his and Emily's +only child twenty years before, since it was then +that he began bringing home to Emily for repairs +all the crying babies he could steal, the +boys who had stumped their toes and the girls +with torn frocks and feelings.</p> + +<p>In the Sunday-school room he immediately +sailed up to the widow as gallantly as though his +ship had not failed to enter her port in nearly +forty years, and this when she was sheltered between +the law and the gospel. But before +Uncle Ambrose could speak a large soft hand +grasped his lean and vital one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Welcome!" said the minister with unction.</p> + +<p>Three years before, the Rev. Elias Tupper +had entered Pennyroyal and with this same soft +hand had since patted and soothed his congregation +into following where their shepherd led. +Indeed, the building of the brick church had +been a tribute to his powers and to-night's +oyster supper a kind of harvest festival to celebrate +the last payment of the church's debt.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless an unspoken antagonism had +always existed between the Reverend Tupper +and Ambrose Thompson, and indeed this was +the first appearance of the tall man within the +new church's domains.</p> + +<p>Brother Tupper was a man of only medium +height, but of considerable breadth, with cheeks +as smooth and clean as a woman's. And while +his lips were thin and his eyes expressionless his +face managed to give the impression of a permanent +smile, the kind of smile that can come +from but one source, having nothing to do with +amusement over people or things, nor even contentment +in God's plan for His universe, but +manifests only a supreme and personal self-satisfaction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now for the life of him Ambrose could not +refrain from frowning, because, while his lips +said, "Thank you," to himself he protested: +"I ain't able to bear it; this man actin' toward +me as though <i>he</i> was forgivin' me some mortal +sin every time we meet."</p> + +<p>Neither was the widow's greeting of him cheering, +since forty years had not completely wiped +away a certain never-explained retreat.</p> + +<p>The promised plenitude of Peachy Williams' +girlhood had been nobly fulfilled in the Widow +Tarwater, for now she suggested an abundant +harvest. A handsome black silk gown folded +over her more than ample bosom, a double chin +rippled from under the soft fulness of her broad +face, her skin was white and crimson as a child's, +her auburn hair without a thread of gray in it, +and her huge brown eyes never having looked +deep down into the waters of life showed none +of its troubled reflections.</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose nodded approvingly at her +appearance the while she looked at him coldly, +saying: "I ain't seen you to talk to in a long +time, Ambrose Thompson."</p> + +<p>His reply flatteringly included the member of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +the Kentucky legislature on the widow's right. +"'Course you ain't, Peachy," he answered gallantly, +"for when big stars is shinin' so close to a +planet, t'ain't to be expected that the planet kin +notice the little ones twitterin' about in her +neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>And yet when supper was served the widow +found herself placed at a table for four whose +other occupants were three men instead of the +two whom she had expected.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>ORIGINAL SIN</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Widow Tarwater was in truth a pleasing +vision.</p> + +<p>Not once had Ambrose Thompson left her +side, yet he had been uncommonly silent. +Thoughts, rose coloured as a boy's dream of a +holiday, were floating before his mind's eye; he +had been but dimly conscious that two plates of +warm soup had lately flowed into him the while +the conversation around him flowed on unceasingly. +For the spirit of romance, which is an +eternal though elusive thing, was surely taking +fresh hold on him this evening as his pillar of +cloud by day and of fire by night, and only Miner +Hobbs, the little wooden figure of a man seated +several tables off, was yet aware of his friend's +exalted state.</p> + +<p>At the present moment the Rev. Elias Tupper +was talking to the widow. He had but lately<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +traversed the room crowded with tables and resplendent +with decorations of harvest apples, +pumpkins, goldenrod and tall tasselled stalks of +corn, dispensing pleasantries as one would lollipops; +and now amid much joking, laughter, and +nudging had been allowed to take his place next +the widow, only the legislator, who was making +but a few weeks' visit in Pennyroyal, appearing +disquieted.</p> + +<p>It was past seven o'clock and assuredly the +new Baptist Sunday-school room was now the +centre of Pennyroyal's social activities, when +unexpectedly the tall figure of a boy lurched +into the room—Pennyroyal's black sheep, a boy +taller than any man in the village save Ambrose +Thompson.</p> + +<p>There was a dismayed flutter and then an uncomfortable +silence.</p> + +<p>Now there are black sheep and black sheep +with extenuating circumstances, but this boy +had none of the extenuating circumstances—a +respectable family, money in the bank, or a line +of distinguished but self-indulgent ancestors; +no, he was simply a sandy-haired, loose-jointed +boy of about twenty-one who worked about the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +Widow Tarwater's stables—one of nature's curious +anomalies, a boy without a father.</p> + +<p>He looked about the homely, cheerful company +at first with defiance, and then, feeling +the weight of his loneliness and degradation, +fell to crying foolishly. "I don't see why I ain't +a right to your church social; if I ain't no name +of my own, I got to be the son of some man in +this town!"</p> + +<p>It was such a sudden, unlooked for accusation +piercing the holy covering of every hard-shelled +Baptist brother in the new Sunday-school room +that for the moment the little group of men were +staggered. Then while they were making up +their minds as to which one should have the +privilege of throwing out the intruder, a familiar +tall figure was seen crossing the floor, and putting +his arm about the lubbering, drunken boy.</p> + +<p>"Come along, sonnie; steady now," he whispered, +leading him quickly away.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, sauntering back to the +church social, Uncle Ambrose found that supper +time was past and that the tables having +been cleared away there was more and more +room for conversation. Once again he sought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +the Widow Tarwater's side, but this time was +received more graciously, for, putting out a +trembling hand, she clasped Uncle Ambrose's +with gratitude. "I'm obliged to you, Ambrose +Thompson," she said. "That boy's ever been +a thorn in my flesh. I have kept him at the +farm because my late husband was good to him, +but after to-night I don't feel called to have him +stay on."</p> + +<p>The Rev. Elias Tupper's voice thereafter was +sufficiently loud to reach the ears of a number of +the members of his congregation who were +grouped about nearby.</p> + +<p>"That boy," he announced, folding his short +arms across his chest and sighing deeply, "is a +painful example of original sin."</p> + +<p>Since his return to the room up to this time +Uncle Ambrose had made no remark, but now +clearing his throat he eyed the last speaker for +so long in silence that a little clacking noise was +heard close by him and an old, old woman with +an ear trumpet held to her ear leaned so far out +of her wheeled chair that only her daughter's restraining +hand kept her from falling.</p> + +<p>"Original sin, Brother Elias?" The tall man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +drawled his question thoughtfully. "I wonder +now why you speak of this boy's weaknesses +as <i>original</i> sin? I've done lived in Pennyrile +a right smart number of years and I ain't been +witness to a single original sin. Seems like +every fault a human crittur commits is just a +plain copy of some fault that has gone before +him. And I reckon it's more'n likely there's a +good many original sinners among us men here +to-night that has been original along pretty +much the same lines as this here boy."</p> + +<p>There was an unspoken yet moving appeal in +the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'sympathic'">sympathetic</ins> tones of the well-known voice, +softening some of the women listeners and a few +of the men, but the Hon. Calvin Jones had still +to be heard from.</p> + +<p>There are men in this world to whom even the +simplest exchange of words is a chance for oratory. +So the Honorable Calvin, frowning and +with one finger thrust in his coat, by his dramatic +silence held his audience for a moment +spellbound.</p> + +<p>"May I inquire," he thundered, "if this lad +whom Mr. Ambrose Thompson has just rescued +and—er—defended, is any relation of his?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the interrogation itself there was no offence, +but to every grown-up person who heard, the +insinuation was plain enough.</p> + +<p>To the tips of his big ears Uncle Ambrose +flushed. "No, sir, he's not my son," he answered +the man, who was a stranger to him before this +evening, "and maybe I'm glad and maybe I'm +sorry. For I won't say since my daughter and +Em'ly's died that I ain't thought most any kind +of a child's better than no child at all." He +hesitated and then went on in pretty much his +same old fashion of talking to himself: "Come to +think of it now, mebbe in a way this boy is a son +of mine, for I kind er think that every young +man that plays the fool is the son of every man +that's played the fool before him."</p> + +<p>And then with a friendly smile he turned again +toward the widow.</p> + +<p>"Ambrose," she faltered, with two round +tears rolling down her plump cheeks, "Brother +Elias and Mr. Jones advise against it, but maybe +you are thinkin' I ought to give that boy another +chance."</p> + +<p>The tall man pressed the soft hand and shook +his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, Peachy, I ain't never felt in my life that +I knowed what another person <i>ought</i> to do, +but ef I've studied 'em long enough and close +enough I know pretty well what they <i>will</i> do. I +took that boy home to spend the night with me, +but I'll be drivin' out to your place with him to-morrow +toward sundown. I'm more'n anxious +fer a little old-time chat with you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE ETERNAL FIRE</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Uncle Ambrose</span> poured the grace of forgiveness +upon the pile of buckwheat cakes on his +guest's plate next morning in the form of an +over-supply of maple syrup, saying kindly: +"Eat well, sonnie; we ain't goin' to talk over the +events of last evening till you are feeling a little +stronger in the stomach."</p> + +<p>And though the boy crimsoned and looked +sullen, he proved his recovery by his application +to the cakes.</p> + +<p>"I was an awful fool last night," he mumbled +apologetically a few moments later.</p> + +<p>"You were," Uncle Ambrose replied, "but +then being a young fool ain't so bad; it's bein' an +old one that's serious," and his faded blue eyes +twinkled self-accusingly, while the boy went on +talking into his plate.</p> + +<p>"Course I didn't know what I was doin' when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +I bust into that social. Not that it matters; +nobody kires fer me about here, and I'll pretty +soon be clearin' out. The widow won't want +me back to the farm."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose leaned on his table, facing the +young man so squarely that the boy was obliged +to raise his bloodshot blue eyes to his.</p> + +<p>"Nobody don't kire fer you in Pennyroyal? +That ain't the important thing; don't you kire +fer somebody, Sam? That's what keeps a man +straight. If we was stone images now set up in +a desert, why, we might hope to have people +come a-worshippin' of us, but bein's as we are +just ordinary—sometimes very ordinary—human +bein's, seems like we might do the lovin' +end ourselves." The older man searched the +face opposite him keenly. "How old are you?" +he inquired suddenly.</p> + +<p>"'Bout twenty," was the answer. "I wasn't +more'n eight or ten when Farmer Tarwater +brought me to his farm and give me my schoolin' +till I was a good sized boy. He was more of a +friend to me than anybody's ever been."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose waved the last statement aside. +"Mebbe he was your friend and mebbe he wasn't,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +but the thing that worries me about you most, +Sam, ain't last night's scrape nor the rest of the +foolishnesses you been gettin' into in this village. +It's you settin' right here at my table and you +more'n twenty, been raised in Kentucky and got +eyes in your head, and yet tellin' me you don't +<i>kire</i> fer nobody! The Widow Tarwater told me +I could bring you back to the farm this evenin' +ef you was feelin' yourself, but mebbe you'd +better stay along with me 'till I kin kind of find +something to prop up under you."</p> + +<p>But the boy's tanned face grew redder than +usual. "I didn't say I didn't kire fer no one; I +said there was no one kired fer me. There's a +girl——"</p> + +<p>Now the tall man's hand struck the breakfast +table until the plates on it fairly danced.</p> + +<p>"Glory, I knowed you'd more sense 'n you +showed!" he announced triumphantly, and coming +around to refill his visitor's plate put his arm +affectionately around his shoulder. "You got +the best thing on earth, boy, to keep you goin'; +you got to learn a girl to love you." Uncle +Ambrose's emotional old face quivered with the +glory of the chase. "Course your girl don't kire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +fer you now, you ain't worth it, but you up and +show her what lovin' her has done fer you. And +mebbe I'll keep right 'longside of you, Sam."</p> + +<p>This confidence was by no means finished, but +at this moment a thin, brown shadow, faithful +as the rising and setting of the sun, appearing at +the dining-room window, Uncle Ambrose's further +remarks were choked off. Returning from +the kitchen a moment later he put down more +cakes on the table and then shook his guest's +hand in farewell. "I got to leave you now fer +the day; Miner's come to git me to start fer the +store, but there's one thing I want you to recollect +while you're waitin' here fer me, sonnie, and +that's that the good Lord sends a new day once +in every twenty-four hours just to show folks +they kin begin agen."</p> + +<p>It was a long day in the shop both to Miner +and Ambrose. Inevitably the little man had +grown more morose and bitter as the years went +by. For in spite of Emily's and Ambrose's +pleading he had gone but seldom to his old place +under the apple tree after their marriage, and +when his six sisters made homes of their own he +had lived entirely alone. Indeed old Moses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +had seemed the only companion he had ever +cared for except Ambrose, and on the day of Ambrose's +second marriage the dog had moved himself +and his allegiance from the tall man's house +to the little one's and had never gone home +again except to be buried.</p> + +<p>Ambrose kept surreptitiously watching the +clock from the noon hour on until his partner +removed it clean out of sight in the back of the +shop: however, an hour before closing time Ambrose +began putting away his share of the stock, +remarking airily, "I thought I'd git away a little +sooner than usual this evenin', Miner, ef you +don't mind."</p> + +<p>To this the little man at first returned nothing, +but seeing his friend step over to their assortment +of new neckties and laying aside his old +lavender one begin to match a bright red one +to the shade of his own complexion, he sighed. +"I reckon you feel it comin' on agen, Ambrose?"</p> + +<p>Ambrose nodded. "It started last night at +the social," he replied truthfully, "and then +those other two men's actions kind er sicked me +on. Peachy has done ripened and sweetened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +considerable; mebbe you noticed it, Miner?" he +ended hopefully.</p> + +<p>But Miner only scowled. "She's fat and old, +but t'aint nothin' to you, Ambrose Thompson, +once you're started. I was kind er hopin' you'd +be faithful to Em'ly."</p> + +<p>However, in the midst of his reproach his +partner had vanished; nevertheless, ten minutes +later, he came back into the shop and seating +himself on the counter appeared lost in thought +for some little time.</p> + +<p>"Miner," he confessed finally, "I am a-settin' +here tryin' to git a little light on the subject of +myself. I ain't feelin' unfaithful to Em'ly +'cause I'm noticin' the widow; I never felt unfaithful +to Sarah when I married Em'ly. I tell +you, Miner Hobbs, that what's workin' in me +now is that I ain't able to git old and give up +'thout makin' a fight. It ain't gray hair and +wrinkles that make folks hate gettin' old, it's +dryin' up, losin' their spark, so to speak. Now +there's nothin' that makes a man feel such an all +fired lot younger as fallin' in love over agen." +He laughed. "'Course I ain't recommendin' +dynamite, Miner, which is fallin' in love with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +new woman when you got an old one. That's +my way, 'cause fate's done sent it so fer me, and +we got to make our lives out of what we git. +But why can't a man just start in ever so often +fallin' in love agen and recourtin' his wife till he +gits himself and her all woke up as in the old +days? I ain't sayin' it's as easy with a stale girl +as with a fresh one, but, Lord!"—and here the +shadows chased each other across the luminous +elderly face—"I could 'a' kep' on courtin' Em'ly +till kingdom come and thanked God fer the +chance, ef He had but seen fit to spare her to me +so long."</p> + +<p>And then Uncle Ambrose slipped off the counter +and went away and drove Sam out to the +Widow Tarwater's Red Farm, which was now +twice the size it had been in her youth, since +Peachy had married the young man owning the +place adjoining hers.</p> + +<p>Yet somehow Uncle Ambrose's anticipated +visit proved a disappointment.</p> + +<p>In the first place, both of his rivals were there +before him, and there was something in their +attitude and in the widow's manner that made +him hot with the desire to get the representatives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +of the law and the gospel out behind a fence +and have everybody roll up their sleeves. However, +since no open accusations were made and a +woman was present, what was there for him to +do but to make a short stay and then return +slowly home?—home, to live through what was +perhaps the most extraordinary experience of +Ambrose Thompson's entire lifetime. For nearly +sixty years he had lived in the village of Pennyroyal, +been a friend to all its people, his life had +been there for them to see and interpret, and yet +with the first breathings of calumny the record +of his whole career was smirched. Still he made +no protest, for what does denial count if a man's +character cannot save him? His visits to the +widow were continued, however, and always he +found her in a flutter between affection and fear. +Nevertheless, Uncle Ambrose was merely biding +his time, but in the meanwhile Miner's silence +and devotion were more healing than any ointment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE REVIVAL SERVICE</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Ambrose</span> was raking the dead leaves in his +front yard two weeks after the oyster supper +when Susan Barrows summoned him across to +her with a wave of her ear trumpet. All day +she sat outdoors in her wheeled chair, huddled in +rugs, until the snow came, with her eager old +eyes fastened on the street, her curiosity hungry +after eighty years.</p> + +<p>Ambrose knelt beside her with his lips to her +trumpet.</p> + +<p>"They're sayin' ugly things about you," she +whispered. Then seeing the hurt in the man's +face that even Miner had not fully understood, +she rested her trembling hand on his gray head. +"Talkin' but not believin', Ambrose Thompson. +I ain't sayin' that some people don't agree to +this ugly story, since whatever's ugly naturally +pleases 'em, but the most of Pennyroyal is just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +rollin' this bit of scandal 'bout you under their +tongues like a sweet morsel and then spittin' it +out, knowin' it ain't fitten to swallow. But +what worries me is that I'm afeard you'll be +losin' the widow. Here's Brother Tupper +startin' in with a series of revival services to-night +at his new church, and the legislator neglectin' +the welfare of his State to keep close to +the widow! Not that it's the law I am so much +scared of as the preacher. Peachy's plump and +jelly-like and kin be easy shook, and I ain't been +a female eighty years 'thout knowin' how easy +'tis to work on our religious feelin's. You goin' +to the revivin'?"</p> + +<p>Not at once did Uncle Ambrose reply; instead +he seemed to be considering.</p> + +<p>"I'm not at all sure, Miss Susan; seems like +I've felt kind of lonesome in church since we lost +Brother Bills, but I've more'n half way promised +Peachy; she seemed so dead set on my attendin'."</p> + +<p>Susan grinned. "Ef she's worryin' about you +needin' religious instruction, Ambrose, don't you +lose hope. It's a powerful wifely sign."</p> + +<p>And so Uncle Ambrose went on back to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +work, vaguely comforted though not yet certain +whether or not to obey the widow's request. To +tell the truth, he had comparatively little faith +in his own chance with Peachy, since his befriending +the boy Sam had brought with it so +unfortunate a result. And yet the thought of +the possession of the Widow Tarwater had daily +grown more and more alluring as his rivals' +claims progressed, and she seemed so much less +ready for his picking than in past times.</p> + +<p>Late that evening when the first of the present +series of revival services was in full swing, a tall +man cautiously entered an open door. He had +never yet been inside the church itself, and to-night +found it crowded to the doors with men +and even women standing in the aisles. Uncle +Ambrose felt annoyed, for having made a special +effort to be subservient he certainly desired that +the widow should know of it, and, moreover, +though he preferred not having the matter discussed, +frequent rheumatic twinges in his right +leg made standing for any length of time an +impossibility.</p> + +<p>Now he shoved himself forward, politely edging +his way between saints and sinners alike,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +hoping that Mrs. Tarwater would at least get +a passing glimpse of him, when at the front of +the church, to his immense surprise, he discovered +an entirely empty pew.</p> + +<p>There was no time for thought, and almost +immediately the newcomer dropped down upon +the seat, observing at the same instant that the +widow and her escort, the Honorable Calvin, were +in an opposite pew just across the aisle, though +why their pew should be so jammed and his own +exactly under the chancel entirely unoccupied +he did not then consider. Obeying his first impulse +Uncle Ambrose turned a smile upon the +widow. It was tremendously gratifying to observe +her large bosom heave with emotion, but +puzzling when soon after large tears coursed +down her quivering face.</p> + +<p>Moreover, the persons in Uncle Ambrose's +immediate vicinity were also beginning to behave +queerly.</p> + +<p>"The Lord be praised that one more sinner is +called to repentance!" he heard a sister's shrill +voice cry out just back of him, and then loud +"Amens" boomed all about. But even more +alarming—the Rev. Elias Tupper's expressionless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +eyes were apparently glued upon him, while +his face wore an exaggerated edition of that +smile of heavenly forgiveness so irritating to the +other man's soul.</p> + +<p>With a shudder of horror it was now borne in +upon Uncle Ambrose Thompson that by misadventure +he had placed himself upon the mourners' +bench—the seat at revival services specially +set apart for sinners overcome with remorse who +desired to make open confession.</p> + +<p>With a hunted look the unhappy man searched +about for some way of escape; there was none, +for the congregation had come crowding closer +toward the front of the church until every foot +of room was occupied.</p> + +<p>Folding his arms across his lean chest and lifting +his head Uncle Ambrose waited. During +the first moments of his discovery his face had +grown extraordinarily red, but now was paler +than any man or woman had ever seen it before.</p> + +<p>Lifting his right hand the Rev. Elias Tupper +commanded an intense and awed silence. "Ambrose +Thompson is before us to-night openly to +confess his sins," he announced in a loud voice.</p> + +<p>Still the tall man did not move and not even a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +muscle of his set face pulsated. A moment of +waiting or longer must have gone by—nobody +could have guessed the exact passage of time—and +yet Uncle Ambrose appeared insensible.</p> + +<p>The minister cleared his throat. "If Ambrose +Thompson is unable to speak for himself, +then I will do my best to speak for him."</p> + +<p>But at this the presumably repentant sinner +rose up slowly, very slowly, almost it would +seem by inches, until he stood taller than any +other person in the new red brick church.</p> + +<p>"It ain't my way to pray before a audience," +he began quietly and with his gray head bowed, +although his words could be distinctly heard, +"and I don't know as I feel called to do any +special repentin' this evenin', seein' as I got up +on this here mourning bench by accident and +with no idea but to set and listen fer a while. +Still I reckon I got sins enough to be sorry 'bout +most any time the chance comes." Ambrose +then seemed to be reflecting for a moment, and +it is just possible that during this pause the thin +ghost of a smile played like heat lightning about +the end of his sensitive nose, although his expression +continued perfectly reverent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be a mite surprised though, +Lord," he went on in almost a conversational +tone, "ef my neighbours wasn't better able to +confess my sins fer me than I am fer myself, +bein's as we've all got such special talents fer +our neighbours' motes. The trouble is I'm none +too sure one man can <i>precisely</i> understand another +man's, Heavenly Father, you've so many +and various ways of revealin' yourself to your +children. Course I know, Lord, I've loved fine +apparel too dear and smokin' and the outdoors +when mebbe I should 'a' been workin' in, and +mebbe I've laughed now and then over things +folks think should 'a' been cried over. And I've +had my hours of distrustin' and repinin' and forgettin' +it's God's privilege to run His world 'cordin' +to His idees, not mine. But, O Lord, what's +the use mentionin' things that ain't cheerful +even to you? I'm plumb sorry fer all I've done +that's bad 'thout goin' into further details."</p> + +<p>And here again Uncle Ambrose paused; however, +not one of his strained and over-eager listeners +had any delusion that his prayer was +finished. He simply had been forgetting them +and now remembered. Then he lifted his head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +and straightened his shoulders, and what he saw +through the shining oak ceiling of the new brick +church no one shall ever know.</p> + +<p>"Ef any one here present is waitin' to hear me +say I'm sorry fer any lovin' I've ever done of man—or +woman (course I know you ain't expectin' +it, Lord)—then I am obleeged to state he or +she'll be disappointed. Women is the nearest +things I've known on this earth to the angels, and +I ain't been disobedient to the heavenly vision."</p> + +<p>Up to this moment Uncle Ambrose's voice +had been low and evenly modulated, but now it +changed like the deeper tones of an organ until +it came to be the most wonderful music in the +world—a voice that was able perfectly to express +the richest things of the spirit. "But, Lord, +ef ever I'd wronged a woman, I'd not be askin' +forgiveness of you; I'd just ask that it be meted +out to me in like proportion as it has been meted +out to the woman, forever and ever. Amen."</p> + +<p>And then not waiting for the closing of the service, +and forgetting his hat, Uncle Ambrose +passed on down the church aisle, where room +was instantly made for him, out into the white +stillness of the autumn night, away from calumny<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +and human irritation, and the little congregation +seeing him go with a look of added +dignity and peace, whatever their former ill-founded +suspicions, after to-night believed nothing +against him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>INDIAN SUMMER</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Truth</span> is immortal, and one truth is that there +cannot be two pursuers in the game of love.</p> + +<p>After the night of the first revival service +Uncle Ambrose, making no further visits to the +Red Farm, it was the woman who set herself to +lure him back again.</p> + +<p>In the first place, he had by then convinced her +that her mistrust had been unjust and that she +had listened to suggestion that was not evidence. +So there was but one way by which the widow +felt she could make reparation and restore peace +between herself and Ambrose Thompson. She +must find out the name of Sam's father, for +necessarily the boy had to have two parents, and +the mother she had known as she had come frequently +to the farm on visits to her son up to the +time of her death.</p> + +<p>The original informant mentioned in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +Bible was a female: "And the damsel ran, and +told them of her mother's house these things."</p> + +<p>Therefore after a certain period of effort the +boy Sam himself drove one afternoon into Pennyroyal +bearing three perfumed notes written by +the widow which he was to carefully deliver at +the post-office.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon, along about four o'clock, +three men appearing in the village street at almost +the same time were seen to start off in the +direction of the Widow Tarwater's farm. Not +that they were together, certainly not; for some +little time they were even unconscious of each +other's destination. Ambrose, however, made the +discovery first, since owing to the enfeebled condition +of his livery-stable horse and the disabled +state of his prehistoric gig he was compelled to +be in the rear of the procession, which was headed +by the Honorable Calvin on a high black +charger and seconded by the Rev. Mr. Tupper +in a neat phaeton drawn by a fat pony.</p> + +<p>The tall man could have vowed that the best +parlour at the Red Farm had not been changed +in more than three decades, except that a +criminal looking portrait done in crayons of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +Widow Tarwater's late husband, who had been +an uncommonly handsome man, hung over the +mantel, for there in the same dark corner and on +the identical sofa sat Peachy, but a far more +flushed and emotional Peachy than her former +admirer recalled.</p> + +<p>For indeed the widow's cheeks were burning, +her mouth tremulous like a worried child's, and +after her first greeting of her three visitors, she +continued twisting her handkerchief in and out +of her fingers, trying to speak and yet plainly +not finding courage. So conspicuously was she +needing consolation that Uncle Ambrose's long +arm fairly ached to accommodate its length to +her large waist, nevertheless the presence of his +rivals, who may or may not have been suffering +from the same pressure, deterred him.</p> + +<p>"Ambrose," so much the widow did get out, +turning her eyes away from the encouragement +she might have received from the ardour of two +other glances, to rest them on her older friend, +"I feel it my duty, having lately acted kind of +suspicious to you, to tell you that I now know +who the boy Sam's father is, was——" And +Peachy fell to sobbing now in such earnest that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +she was compelled to bury her flushed face in her +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Two of the men stared; many hopeful things +had each of them anticipated in this hasty summons +from the widow, but not this confession. +However, the third man, hopping up, began +striding rather irritably about the room.</p> + +<p>"If his father was, then fer the land sakes, +Peachy, keep it to yourself; 'taint a mortal bit +er use startin' things on a dead man."</p> + +<p>But whether the widow belonged to the large +group of females with a passion for martyrdom +or whether she was less a martyr in telling her +secret than in keeping it, who shall say? For in +reply she shook her head, removing her handkerchief, +though permitting her tears to flow faster +than ever.</p> + +<p>"My late husband was this boy Sam's father," +she went on quickly, once she had fairly started. +"I might have guessed it years agone if I'd ever +thought on it; seems like I can recall now numbers +of times when he tried to tell me this himself, +and as he was so often askin' me to be kind +to Sam and give him a chance I more'n half took +a dislike to the lad. Lately I've been goin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +through some old papers and, well, there ain't +no more to be said 'ceptin' as I've no children +of my own I'm goin' to make this Sam my heir; +I've already writ out the papers."</p> + +<p>With the ending of this speech Uncle Ambrose +enjoyed one of the most exquisite moments of +his later years. Not that he was so transfigured +by the proof of his own innocence, since the +annoyance that the scandal had caused had +passed that evening in church, and most certainly +not because he enjoyed hearing the reputation +of Peachy's former husband damaged, but +because the expressions on the faces of his rivals +proved what his wits had already discovered, +that the two men were not after the widow for +herself, but because of the abundance and fruitfulness +of her fields.</p> + +<p>What the widow herself saw it was impossible +to tell, for almost immediately after, with her +face still buried in her handkerchief, she left the +room, and the three men could see her through +the window hurrying across the front lawn.</p> + +<p>Left alone, the Honorable Calvin was the first +to speak. Drawing out a delicately scented white +handkerchief he wiped a slight dampness from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +about his lips. "I suppose the widow does not +fully understand this boy has no legal claim on +her," he said thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>The minister sighed, waving a fat hand. "A +little remembrance, say a thousand dollars or so, +as a start in life would be quite sufficient."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose smiled. "I reckon you gentlemen +had better talk this matter over with +Mrs. Tarwater. Women have such foolish, softhearted +ways of tryin' to save the innocent and +help the guilty when they're able; 'taint law +and 'taint gospel, mebbe, but it's woman."</p> + +<p>Then seeing that the legislator had risen to his +feet with the first understanding of his suggestion +the tall man laid a firm hand on him. "Better +let Brother Elias have the first show, Mr. +Jones," he drawled; "seems no more'n proper +respect to pay the gospel."</p> + +<p>So both men waited ten minutes or more, the +Honorable Calvin glowering and fidgeting, while +Uncle Ambrose, whatever his inner stirrings, remained +imperturbably calm until, seeing a stout +figure returning to unhitch his pony, with his +face wearing an expression more of sorrow than +of anger, Mr. Jones waited for no further advice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>Left alone, Uncle Ambrose betrayed his real +feelings. First, he looked at himself in a small +triple mirror on the mantel, carefully combing +with a little pocket comb the thin hairs well to +the front of his head over his increasing bald +spot, and afterward he walked restlessly about +the great room, finally arriving at the window. +It was always Calvin Jones he had feared. +"Good looks and a silver tongue! Lord, what +a combination!"</p> + +<p>The sun was now going down at the edge of +the Kentucky landscape, in the fields the grain +had been cut and stacked and golden pumpkins +were lying between the piled up mounds of hay +and corn. Over the tips of the grass, which still +showed green, autumn leaves were swirling, and +hovering above, and through it all a fine, thin +mist which might be the coming blight of winter +or the lingering spirit of the summer's warmth.</p> + +<p>Crossing a meadow and moving toward a big +red barn, Uncle Ambrose soon spied Sam driving +a long line of cows toward home. With a leap +his long legs carried him out the window and +swiftly across the yard. "Hullo!" he cried +while still some distance away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy's face reddened, but this time from +sheer pleasure. "Hullo!" he cried, all his sullenness +and resentment gone. And in a few moments +the older man's lean, strong fingers held +the boy's short stocky hand in a hard clasp. "I +am glad fer you clean through," he said simply.</p> + +<p>The boy's head jerked toward the house. +"Has she told you?" he asked. "It's powerful +kind of her when she ain't even liked me."</p> + +<p>"Kind?" Uncle Ambrose frowned. "Why, +boy, she's plumb magnificent!" And here he +curveted a few steps to the side. "Lord! ain't +it splendid—life so full of good things happenin' +every minute!" Stopping, he gazed steadily +and curiously into the eyes of the young man +near him, while the cows wondering at the delay +pressed their sweet smelling bodies against each +other and muzzled their soft noses. The boy's +eyes were no longer bloodshot nor ashamed.</p> + +<p>"'Bout that other thing, sonnie, your girl?" +Uncle Ambrose hesitated. "Don't you tell me +nothin' ef you ain't a mind to. Lord! don't I +remember how a young fellow hates bein' pried +into."</p> + +<p>"You ain't pryin'," the boy defended, "and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +it's comin' on great. I took your advice. I +just let myself do all the lovin' I could 'thout +stewin' over her feelin's fer me, and then all of a +sudden she up and told me she always had loved +me, only she was afeard I didn't kire fer her."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose's face shone. "A'ire you +worth her now, sonnie?"</p> + +<p>"Lord, no," the boy answered; "but I kep' +straight since that night and I'll keep on. It's +lovin' that done it."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose raised his rusty stovepipe hat. +"Lovin', that's it," he answered.</p> + +<p>And then across his wrinkled face there +marched a host of memories, while keeping his +eyes on the sky among whose soft clouds there +might easily have been floating any number of +angels, he repeated the toast made immortal +by Kentuckians: "The ladies, God bless 'em!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly hearing the noise of a horse's hoofs +trotting away from the neighbourhood of the +farmhouse, Ambrose whirled, and before his +companion could guess what ailed him, started +running back across the lawn.</p> + +<p>But this time Peachy was not to be so easily +found. Uncle Ambrose searched for her in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +yard and in the garden, in the place where the +old summer house, now a ruin, had once stood, +and then when the sun had disappeared and only +an afterglow remained, found her leaning over a +turnstile facing an orchard.</p> + +<p>"I hope I ain't kept you waitin', Peachy," he +remarked, a trifle breathlessly.</p> + +<p>The woman smiled and slipped her arm +through his that they might both lean together +on the turnstile. "Most forty years, Ambrose," +she returned with a finer enjoyment than she +could have felt in her youth.</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 221px;"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a> +<img src="images/i-213.jpg" width="221" height="400" alt=""You kin manage me now all you've a mind to; I ain't worryin'"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"You kin manage me now all you've a mind to; I ain't worryin'"</span> +</div> +<p>And her sixty-year-old suitor blushed. "I +know more'n I did then, Peachy; I was frightened +of your managin' ways." He was feeling a considerable +anxiety, for the woman beside him was +like a piece of fruit, no longer in her summer +time, but reaching her perfection in late autumn.</p> + +<p>Very quietly then Peachy withdrew her arm.</p> + +<p>"I'm managin' now, Ambrose," she confessed. +"Seems like growin' old don't lose us our faults; +it kind er makes 'em set deeper. I should be +sorry to try you, but I'm some past fifty and +ain't able to change."</p> + + + +<p>However, Uncle Ambrose simply put his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +arm around her, drawing her closer to him. +"Lord, Peachy, ef that's all, don't you fret. +You kin manage me now all you've a mind +to; I ain't worryin'. I was young and didn't +understand then that no man kin git on comfortable +in this world 'thout bein' managed +by a <i>good</i> woman." And he laughed and kissed +her with an ardour that was in its way as good a +thing as the springtime.</p> + +<p>A minute later, the light dying quickly down, +the autumn moon rose up above the orchard, and +with the disappearance of the day the warmth +ended so abruptly that, with a little shiver, the +two middle-aged figures moved away, the woman +watching the man anxiously. "It ain't moonlight +we're needin', Ambrose Thompson," she +whispered; "I'm thinkin' it's the light of the +fireside."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> +<h2>PART IV</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>HIS FOURTH WIFE</div> + +<div class= 'center'> +"<i>There are diversities of gift, but the same spirit</i>"<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>"'LIZABETH"</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">A very</span> old man leaned over, touching a cane-bottomed +rocking chair with his carpet slipper. +"Seems sort er more sociable like to see a little +female chair a-rockin'," he remarked to himself, +for the room was otherwise unoccupied, and even +the house itself.</p> + +<p>It was a December night and snowing hard. +By and by the old man got up, and crossing over +to a side window where the blind had not yet +been pulled down, stood there for a moment +frowning and saying impatiently: "Ef that don't +beat all!" for mingling with the noises outside +there sounded a faint and monotonous crying.</p> + +<p>He was an uncommonly tall old man with a +head like a highly polished billiard ball rising +above a fringe of thin white hair; he had a straggly +beard, while over his dim blue eyes the eyebrows +arched like cornices.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + +<p>Finally he shuffled back toward his place by +the kitchen fire, and there getting down the +family Bible commenced to read, first stuffing +both fingers in his ears, although every now and +then partially removing one to make observations. +He was reading the twenty-second chapter +of St. Matthew:</p> + +<p>"For in the resurrection they neither marry nor +are given in marriage, but are as the angels of +God in heaven." However, on the third reading +he shut up his book, keeping three bunches of +pressed flowers inside to mark the place, and half +humorously and half with the irritability of old +age, sighed: "I don't feel as ef I could stand it a +inch longer. What mortal use is there in me +tryin' to make myself at all comfortable this +evenin' with that noise eternally pesterin' me? +Seems like it has always been my experience a +man has got to give in first <i>an'</i> last."</p> + +<p>Then wrapped in the faded splendour of a once +gorgeous silk dressing-gown the old man disappeared +into his bedroom, returning with a +shawl crossed over his shoulders and a knitted +muffler tied about his head. On opening his +door he listened again for a moment, but, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +the crying had not ceased, waded across his yard +through the snow in his carpet slippers until he +knocked with his big blue-veined old hand hard +against the locked back door of a cottage adjoining +his.</p> + +<p>At first there was no answer except a continuing +of the sniffling, snuffling noises which only +made the visitor rap more vehemently, when at +length the door opened and there stood a woman +holding a lantern above her head.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Ambrose Thompson, what kin you +want o' me this time o' night?" she asked; "it's +goin' on nine o'clock! You ain't sick?"</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose shook his head, surveying his +neighbour sympathetically, but oh, so disparagingly! +She was so plainly an old-time old maid, +flat in the chest and angular, a hard and bony +structure, with a face that was equally barren +save that its desert waste had lately been swept +by a storm.</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't sick, child," Uncle Ambrose answered, +"but you are—heartsick. And what's +more it seems likely I can't stand that noise you +keep on a-makin'. You come over and set by +my kitchen fire a space and kind er talk things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +out with me. I reckon I ain't altogether lost +my soothin' powers!"</p> + +<p>Before his glowing fire the old host comfortably +placed two rocking chairs side by side. For +the past seven years Ambrose Thompson had +been a widower for the third time and, since +Peachy's death, having come back home from +the Red Farm, had lived all alone in his once +rose-coloured cottage, looked after only by his +neighbours.</p> + +<p>Picking up a crazy quilt cushion from his +chair, the old man surveyed it tenderly. "This +was my Em'ly's make," he explained; "seems, +'Lizabeth Horton, that you and me 're most +like strangers, havin' lived side by side only a +little piece like seven years. Em'ly she was the +second of my three wives." And then thoughtfully +passing his hand backward over his high +bald crown, Uncle Ambrose smiled in a kind of +slow and puzzled fashion.</p> + +<p>"No, now I've done mixed things up a bit; +I'm gittin' a little oncertain these days. Em'ly +wasn't never the sewin' one," he continued, +"besides, this crazy quiltin' business was most +too new fashioned fer my Em'ly. I kin recollect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +now bringin' that sofy cushion in from the +farm, so it must 'a' been Peachy's. Funny +how I keep puttin' everything on to Em'ly +these days!"</p> + +<p>Then seeing that his caller's red-rimmed eyes +had been yearning toward the coffee pot at the +back of his stove, the old man put it down before +her with a nicked but brightly flowered cup and +saucer, and afterward, settling himself in his +own place, peacefully began smoking, finding a +kind of unholy joy in the old maid's horrified +glances about his untidy but nobly littered +kitchen.</p> + +<p>"S'pose you go ahead now 'n tell me just +what ails you?" Uncle Ambrose suggested after +a reasonably sustaining pause.</p> + +<p>And straightway Elizabeth returned to the +slow and monotonous weeping that had so disturbed +his nerves for the past few hours. However, +he let her alone for a time, and except for +moving restlessly about in his chair and biting +hard on his pipe stem made no other signs until +at last he placed a trembling hand on her bowed +shoulder. "'Lizabeth Horton, there is some +women that just nachurally runs away to tears,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +but I wouldn't waste myself <i>en</i>tirely ef I was +you. Seems like when a female has cried 's long +as you have, she must need something to fill up +the places that has gone dry on the inside; so +you take another cup of coffee; it may be bitter +but it's liquid. I ain't sayin' I ain't used to +women's weepin', but I'm gittin' older an'——"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth at this gulped down her second dose. +"I hadn't ought to cry so much, Uncle Ambrose," +she apologized, "but you must know I'm havin' +to give up my little home and it most breaks my +heart."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose looked meditatively about +his ancient and patched fourteen-foot-square +kitchen, and his dim eyes shone with the never +failing pride of possession. "These cottages +ain't so bad," he said defensively. "I been living +in mine off'n on fer most seventy years, and +I kin remember when yours and old Mrs. Barrows', +now deceased, was built like it. Still I +am obleeged to say there may be finer places; +more'n likely now this nephew's house is stylisher +where you're bein' took in to live. Seems +like I've done heard it's in a su-burb and sets +up on a hill. Kind er onnecessary Pennyrile's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +havin' a su-burb, but mebbe you're thinkin' the +young folks won't be good to you when you go +up there to dwell."</p> + +<p>Now that her crying had ceased the old maid's +face looked gray.</p> + +<p>"It ain't that I ain't goin' to a good home, +Uncle Ambrose," she explained, "and I suppose +they'll be as good to me as they can to a piece of +furniture that don't fit in and ain't nowheres +needed in their house. I can't expect a man to +understand, but when a woman don't never +marry and hasn't a husband or children of her +own, seems like all she has to set store by is just +<i>things</i>, havin' a <i>home</i> of her own. I done my best +to keep mine since mother died and her pension +stopped, by picklin' and preservin', but somehow +I can't manage it." And now the woman's +voice held the quiet acceptance of defeat which +is sadder than any protest of tears.</p> + +<p>She was looking into her lap at her knotted, +hardworking and yet unsuccessful hands as she +spoke, or else she would have seen the light of +the understanding she denied in the old face +opposite hers, which had not, I think, failed any +woman in nearly threescore years.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've done smelt your efforts, 'Lizabeth," +Uncle Ambrose murmured kindly. "They've +often come right through the boards of my side +wall. I wisht I knowed some way to help you +out, but I can't somehow see it."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless when Elizabeth had made her +old neighbour as comfortable for the night as +she knew how by putting fresh coals on his fire +and by fastening down his windows, and had said +good night, still he continued sitting in the same +place, wearing a look of uncomfortable gravity, +until by and by hobbling once more into his bedroom +he returned with a small daguerreotype in +his hand and for a long while kept studying it, +with his lips moving silently, and then suddenly +said aloud: "Whatever on this earth am I +goin' to do 'bout that old maid, Em'ly honey? +She's poor and lonesome and she's scaired, and, +moreover, she's powerful homely." And then +just for an instant piercing the mists over his old +eyes the immortal light of laughter flickered.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you think I've done earned a trifle +of repose from worryin' on females, don't you, +honey?" he inquired as he made his solitary way +toward bed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>"GIVING IN MARRIAGE"</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">In a</span> similar cottage on one side of old Ambrose +Thompson, as has already been explained, +there now dwelt the single departing spinster, +Elizabeth Horton, whom Uncle Ambrose regarded +as a newcomer, her occupancy lying somewhat +within the period of twenty years, while on +the other side there still remained his youthful +enemy, Susan Barrows. Not Mrs. Susan Barrows, +Sr., because of course some years before +that old lady had been translated to that country +where we hope all human curiosity may be +satisfied, but her daughter, Susan Jr.; a little +prying, spiteful girl she would always remain to +Ambrose, although now a married woman past +middle age, with grown-up children of her own.</p> + +<p>And among her other inheritances she claimed +an interfering interest in the old man's mode of +life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now a set of signals having been arranged +between them in case of urgent need on his part, +at about six o'clock the next morning Susan was +aroused by a violent knocking on his wall on the +side of the house next hers, and hurrying over +she found the old man lying half dressed on his +bed and groaning with pain.</p> + +<p>"Seems like I can't turn over or move or draw +long breath, Susan Jr.," he gasped. "'Course +I know I got my feet wet; 'tain't no use of you +startin' in on that. I've got the lumbago, +but bein's as I feel I mayn't be able to git up +fer a right smart spell you'd better step next +door and tell that old maid 'Lizabeth to come +over here and look after me. She ain't no kith +and kin to keep her busy like you."</p> + +<p>Susan eyed her old neighbour narrowly; she +never had and never would be able wholly to +trust him, but now his fine old wrinkled face +seemed to be twisting with pain and his nose and +lips twitching.</p> + +<p>"'Lizabeth can't come, you know it well as I +do, Ambrose Thompson," she replied. "I've +just got to do the best fer you I kin, though it +ain't noways convenient to me. This comes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +from you tryin' to live alone 'cause Aunt Ca'line +and the others who used to see to you is passed. +'Lizabeth Horton is movin' within a few hours, +bein' turned out of her house, bag and baggage," +and there was such richness of superiority in +Susan Jr.'s voice, the kind of superiority which +the prosperous always feel in the presence of the +unprosperous, that the old man longed to shake +her.</p> + +<p>But instead he only remarked with suspicious +meekness: "'Lizabeth's furniture is bein' moved, +Susan Jr., but not necessar'ly 'Lizabeth; leastways +I don't believe she is engaged to go off in +the movin' van settin' on top her best dresser +like a hen, though it's what a lot of women would +like, they're so bound up in things mortal." +And then Uncle Ambrose fixing his gaze on a far +spot in the ceiling shivered and groaned until his +audience hurried away, when he was able to +relax into greater comfort.</p> + +<p>Thus it was that 'Lizabeth took up the business +of caring for Uncle Ambrose Thompson +until such time as the lumbago should depart +from his back.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 266px;"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a> +<img src="images/i-229.jpg" width="266" height="400" alt=""Thus it was that 'Lizabeth took up the business of caring for Uncle Ambrose Thompson"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Thus it was that 'Lizabeth took up the business of caring for Uncle Ambrose Thompson"</span> +</div> + +<p>From the first the old man could see that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +spinster was enjoying herself thoroughly; true, +his cottage was small, but then it was exactly +like her own save that he had let his grow truly +magnificent in its dirt and disorder, being not of +the type of male with perverted feminine instincts, +while Elizabeth never had had but one +womanly passion gratified and that was her love +of putting a house to rights.</p> + +<p>So for some little time Uncle Ambrose rather +found pleasure in staying in bed with the hateful +burden of solitariness removed from him; he +loved listening to the familiar homely sounds of +sweeping and the moving about of furniture; it +brought back—ah well, perhaps at seventy-six +it is something to have many things to remember.</p> + +<p>And then, lying alone, he used to talk very +often to his picture of Emily, which still hung on +its nail by the old pine bureau, for this habit, +begun after her death and only practised in secret +during his marriage to Peachy, had grown +on him in these last seven years of failing body +and mind.</p> + +<p>"She's a real good woman, Em'ly," he said +several times, "and you'll be glad to know she's +makin' me more comfortable than I been in some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +time. I was gittin' pretty tired. Seems like I +might as well let this old spinster stay on here +and keep house fer me; she plumb likes it and I +reckon it's just one little thing more I kin do fer +the sex. I ain't much good at lonin' it, and +'tain't like I had old Miner now fer the in betweens." +And then he would laugh silently +until the wrinkles in his old face seemed little +channels for merriment: "I been married so +frequent and got broke in to so many different +sets of housekeepin' ways, seems like I ain't +troubled to form no ways of my own."</p> + +<p>And in between dozing and talking to himself +and the neighbours, who ran in to inquire for his +health, Uncle Ambrose used to spend some time +in reading his Bible. One afternoon when +Elizabeth had been sitting by his bedside sewing +and thinking him asleep, he suddenly rose up in +bed as though completely ignoring the pain in +his back and drawing his old Bible across the +coverlid opened it again at the place of the +pressed flowers.</p> + +<p>"'Lizabeth," he asked after a moment of uncommon +gravity in which his hand frequently +glided over his bald crown, "are you a good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +Bible woman? I mean are you a good interpreter +of the Scriptures? Seems like I didn't +used to look to others fer the meanin' in things, +but I'm gittin' a leetle mite older and folks is +pretty apt to confuse wishes with facts——"</p> + +<p>But Elizabeth's austere face, with its rigid +regard for set duties, was reddening. "I read +my chapter every night and I try to live accordin'," +she answered.</p> + +<p>Then into Uncle Ambrose's old voice there +crept such an eagerness it might have held the +warm desire of youth: "Mebbe you kin tell me +then—the meanin' of this here Bible text. I +ain't never regarded it for seventy years, but I +been worryin' over it consider'ble of late, and +now I'd like to get a woman's views on it." +And with his trembling forefinger following the +lines he had read to himself on the evening before +Elizabeth's installation he said: "It is +what Jesus remarked to the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Sadduces'">Sadducees</ins>: 'For in +the resurrection they neither marry nor are +given in marriage, but are as the angels of God +in heaven.'" And here Uncle Ambrose's eyes +travelled wistfully toward the faded daguerreotype +on his side wall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>Naturally his listener was puzzled, but afterward +laughed a laugh with a touch of new humour +in it. "Lord! Uncle Ambrose, I <i>am</i> +sorry," she apologized, "but I ain't had cause to +worry over that text same as you have; bein's +as I'm turned fifty now and ain't had so much as +<i>one</i> husband on this earth, I'm kind of expectin' +to carry my same single blessedness along with +me on the t'other side."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose's eyes twinkled appreciatively, +but a moment later he looked uncomfortable +again. "Well, I reckon that's reasonable +of you, 'Lizabeth," he agreed. "Folks can't +understand things fer other folks; there's plenty +can't comprehend me marryin' so often and +now worryin' over arrangements for the future. +But it's like this, child: a man may git a +lot of <i>help</i>mates in this world, but he don't find +his <i>real</i> mate but once. And I want to know +which one of my three wives is goin' to claim me +in heaven, 'cause it looks like that combination's +got to be eternal. To tell you the truth, I was +so worried lately I sent fer the latest Baptist +preacher and put this question up to him, and +all he did was to read this selfsame verse out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +St. Matthew as though I hadn't read and studied +over it more'n a hundred times. The new +brother seemed to think we'd have to travel +alone up in heaven 'thout playin' favrits, but I +can't come to agree with him. To tell you the +truth, 'Lizabeth"—and here Uncle Ambrose's +words sunk to a hoarse whisper—"ef the facts +be known I want my Em'ly. I done my best +without her, but it wasn't <i>whole</i> livin' 'cept when +I had her, and I ain't meanin' nothin' in disfavour +of no one else. Of course ef it's true that +the Lord don't believe in marriages in the next +world, with me such a marrier in this, then that +text 'll be a whole lot of assistance to me in gittin' +things fixed. For when my three wives +come a-floatin' up to me as the angels are, I'll be +more'n pleased to see 'em <i>all</i>, but I got to speak +up pretty positive: 'I want my Em'ly, and there +ain't no marriages nor givin' in marriage in +heaven.' For you see I marries little Sarah +first and that might give her the first claim, and +Peachy last, so it's likely she might think a last +tie would bind. Seems like it wouldn't look +regular to have the three of 'em to once." And +at this the speaker smiled with a kind of appreciative<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +vision of things to come, while at the +same time wiping his brow, which was gleaming +with perspiration.</p> + +<p>A day or so after this, having suddenly found +his confinement unendurable, Uncle Ambrose +demanded to be taken outdoors, and so wrapping +him carefully in blankets Elizabeth set him +out on the back stoop to look over his little snow-covered +yard, leaving the door open that she +might hear if he called to her.</p> + +<p>And the woman was so happy now that she +sang as she went about her work, for in moving +him out the old man had asked her to stay and +keep house for him so long as he should live.</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose did not observe Susan Jr.'s +birdlike black eyes peer slantingly at him +through her partially closed blind, for two lady +sparrows who had chosen to perch on the same +twig were keeping up such a violent discussion of +their territorial rights that they held his amused +attention, so that Susan was able quietly to slip +out through her front door and into his by a +surreptitious move that outflanked her enemy. +But pretty soon the old man caught the notes +of her ever meddlesome voice and then a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +later the sound of monotonous weeping. He had +heard Elizabeth Horton crying one evening for +two mortal hours and so was not apt to mistake +her particular sniff. At first he squirmed restlessly +in his chair, attempting to rise, but both +the blankets and his reputation as an invalid +enveloped him so that finally he called sharply: +"Susan Jr., Susan, don't pretend you don't hear +me. Come right out here on my stoop, I got to +speak to you alone."</p> + +<p>And Susan crept stealthily out. She had +grown up to be a thin, small woman with a meddlesome +soul out of all proportion to her body, +and now she wore a wheedling smile such as one +might employ with a fretful baby.</p> + +<p>"You are lookin' right smart better, Uncle +Ambrose," she began, "and 'Lizabeth Horton +tells me you'll soon be yourself again."</p> + +<p>"Susan," the old man interrupted, "you are +in that kitchen hatching up trouble fer me sure +as sin. I heard you tellin' 'Lizabeth that she +oughtn't to be stayin' much longer with me. +What did you do that fer?" And Uncle Ambrose's +eyes, which could be like points of steel +in righteous anger, now emitted certain fiery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +sparks. "'Lizabeth is happy and is makin' me +comfortable after seven more lonesome years, +and you've always been preachin' I ought to git +some one to take kire of me. Susan Jr., the +Lord gives and the Lord taketh away, but don't +you try comin' around here playin' the part of +the Lord. You let this spinster be."</p> + +<p>Again Susan Jr. smiled with an air of superior +virtue. "It ain't <i>me</i> that's talkin', Uncle Ambrose; +I ain't seein' anything so wrong in your +present relations, but I must say folks in Pennyrile +is beginnin' to speculate some, bein's as +'Lizabeth is just turned fifty and you with such +a reckernized taste fer female folks, why, though +things ain't to say scanderlous, there is some +that thinks 'em a little pe-cul-iar."</p> + +<p>"Go, Susan," and though Uncle Ambrose +spoke with restraint his long finger pointed toward +the intervening space which lay between +his house and hers. "Go, afore I'm able to tell +you what I think of you, 'cause I've known you +from a child and you ain't changed none—fer +the better. To think of you sneakin' over here +fer the supreme pleasure of worryin' one poor +homely old maid with your gossip and suggestin's."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +And Uncle Ambrose's face worked with +the annoyance of frustrated old age. "Ef only +'Lizabeth had had one or two husbands she +wouldn't be payin' no attention to this, but +bein's as she's never had none, well, I kin see +that I'm goin' to have my hands pretty nigh full. +Seems like I'd rather turn a child out 'n the world +than this poor unrequited female."</p> + +<p>Late that evening Elizabeth gave Uncle Ambrose +his supper as usual, although her eyes were +so nearly closed from weeping that she was unable +to catch the worried gleam in his. However, +before going to bed she told him that she +would have to leave him and go to her nephew's +as soon as he was well enough to be about again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>"I SHALL WANT MY EM'LY."</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">On that</span> same night Uncle Ambrose suffered +a relapse and remained in bed for another week; +however, he had already got sufficiently rested +from his previous laying up and, besides, even at +seventy-six he had not yet come to evading an +issue. He was merely taking time to think.</p> + +<p>One evening just as the lamps in his room +were being lighted he called Elizabeth to his bed. +"I'm goin' to git up to-morrow, 'Lizabeth, and +stay up; I'm 'bout as well now as I'm ever goin' +to be, seein' as I'm gittin' older each day 'stid of +younger," he said with the gentle firmness that +had always come to him in big moments.</p> + +<p>With a nervous trembling Elizabeth smoothed +the old man's pillows, tucking his blankets in +more closely about him. "I'm reel glad fer you, +Uncle Ambrose; then you won't be needin' me +much longer."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the old man shook his head. "Set down, +'Lizabeth, I want to talk to you; I don't want +my supper, leastways not yet."</p> + +<p>But when Elizabeth had seated herself by the +side of his bed for a time he continued silent +while his glance wandered from the spot where +his daguerreotype hung alongside the wall to the +figure of the elderly worried spinster, and once +catching a reflection of himself in the looking +glass with a night cap tied under his chin and +then a vision of Elizabeth, suddenly his blue eyes +under their overhanging brows brimmed over.</p> + +<p>"'Lizabeth," he inquired at length, "did I +ever show you the picture of my Em'ly?"</p> + +<p>"You ain't exactly showed it to me," she replied +kindly, "but I been seein' it every day +when I come in here to clean; she's got a kind of +different face; it's a pity she had to leave you."</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose only cleared his throat a trifle +more huskily. "You're a good woman, too, +'Lizabeth, and so was little Sarah and Peachy +Tarwater, and you're makin' my declinin' days +peacefuller, givin' me a chance to relish things +that is past, and to hope fer things to come. Not +that I kin say you're one mortal bit like Em'ly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +cause you ain't, but all women 'a' got different +ways, fer which the Lord be praised. I been +lyin' here thinkin' a darn sight lately; ain't had +much else to do." But if Uncle Ambrose expected +a look of understanding in his companion's +face at this he was disappointed. "I know +I got to vacate this earthly tenement pretty +soon, and though I've had good times and sorry +in the building I ain't objectin' to quit. Seems +like a new dwellin' house 'll give us more light +and space. It's many times I've wondered ef +mebbe the spirits of them that love us ain't always +hoverin' close, ef only we had the right +kind of windows to look out at 'em with. Why, +child, there's certainly been times when I've felt +my Em'ly's arms a-holdin' me up and her wings +brushin' my face. She's done been helpin' me +about you lately; 'cause you see I know she'd +always want me to do anything that'd make me +comfortable and——"</p> + +<p>But Elizabeth was not listening to the old +man's soliloquy. She was thinking of herself, +trying to tear out the tendrils that had grown +so close about Uncle Ambrose's house, which +had lately come to seem so like her own. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +finally when she could bear the pain no longer +she rose and started stumbling from the room.</p> + +<p>Uncle Ambrose called out after her. "Don't +go, 'Lizabeth, and don't try to stop cryin'. +Tears is nachural to some women and you sure +are one of 'em. I ought to be used to 'em by +now. 'Lizabeth, I don't want you to leave me; +I want you to stay by me till my trumpet +sounds." Elizabeth shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Think you got to go 'cause of what Susan +Jr. said?" Uncle Ambrose's long nose twitched +between amusement and scorn. "Good Lord! +why is it the good women that is so afeard of +talk?" he muttered to himself. "But thinkin' +it all out kireful, 'Lizabeth, I ain't able to let +you go. I can't stan' livin' 'thout female aid, +and there ain't no use me tryin'. So now you +listen to me. When I'm out o' this bed, and +it'll be to-morrow, do you think you could +bring yourself to marry me?" Uncle Ambrose +laughed. "Don't git scaired, child; ef you ain't +heard them words before it ain't the first time +I've said 'em. But don't you answer me too +quick; think it over and when you come back +after fixin' my supper 's time enough, for I ain't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +yet told you all I been steddyin' over, believin' +the rest 'd come in better later on."</p> + +<p>Then while Elizabeth was away this lover of +many women lay with his dim old eyes still +steadfast upon the picture of her who after all +was "the only woman." "You feel I'm doin' +what's best, don't you, honey?" he said with the +completeness of a perfect union. "She's poor +and lonesome and homely, but I've worked it +out so it'll be all right."</p> + +<p>Afterward, when Uncle Ambrose discovered +that his supper tray held all the dishes he most +liked, he did not let his expression betray him, +but ate his well-cooked meal peaceably and enjoyably +until Elizabeth came to take away his +tray, when his feeble hand caught hold of her +hard one, trying to give it the rightful pressure.</p> + +<p>"I can't," the old maid answered sorrowfully; +"it's only because you are sorry for me."</p> + +<p>And Uncle Ambrose hesitated. To tell any +woman he did not love her, here at the end of his +seventy-six years! "I'm growin' powerful fond +of you, 'Lizabeth Horton," he hedged, "but ef +I'm sorry too, what's the odds? I reckon I'm +sorry fer myself and been sorry fer most everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +I've knowed in this world one time or another. +But mebbe you kin see things better like +this. I'm more'n anxious fer you to look after +me till I die and keep me from gittin' too darned +lonesome and, moreover, I want to leave you +this here cottage when I go away. See here, +'Lizabeth, I've done had some experience with +women and I've been thinkin' a lot on what you +said to me that evenin' you come over here to +dry your tears. I kin see there are some women +who kin live 'thout husbands and some that's +just got to live 'thout children, but there's some +women that ain't able to live 'thout homes of +their own. Why, you poor old 'Lizabeth, you'd +just pine away and die ef the time ever come +when you didn't have a house to keep: it would +be worse 'n food starvin', 'cause it would last +longer. I ain't no children of my own"—and +even now Uncle Ambrose winced at saying it—"and +what with selling my interest in the store +when Miner went and a remembrance from +Peachy I got a tidy sum of money in the bank. +So I've got no special call to leave my money to +nobody, but I know Pennyrile, and she sure +would make it warm fer you ef I willed you my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +property 'thout makin' you my wife. Give me +my answer, 'Lizabeth; I ain't tryin' to bribe you, +though I want you to stay by me, but I'm gittin' +kind er tired and I ain't said all I've got to say +yet."</p> + +<p>And here Uncle Ambrose turned his eyes for +another time toward Emily's picture with their +familiar appeal for light in dark places.</p> + +<p>"There is one more request I'm bound to +make, but it ain't goin' to hurt you or any female +to be sensible."</p> + +<p>"Uncle Ambrose," the old maid faltered, her +yellow cheeks flushing palely, "ef you're sure +you want to marry me I shall be plumb glad. I +like to stay here and take care of you, and I +don't want to leave you or this house. I'll try +my best to do my part."</p> + +<p>"Then you listen to me," said the old man, +speaking like a grown-up person to a confused +child, "and you remember I don't want to hurt +your feelin's, but whatsomever cometh I've got +to git this out of me."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Uncle Ambrose?" Elizabeth inquired +anxiously. "I told you I was hopeful to +do my part."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>Before replying the old face set into beautiful +lines of dignity and untarnished faith. "Do +you recollect, 'Lizabeth, I told you once that +when I died and crossed over the Jerden I was +hopin' to spend the life eternal with Em'ly. +T'ain't nothin' against little Sarah or Peachy, +but you see I married Sarah 'fore I'd met up +with Em'ly, and then Peachy she'd kind er +staked out an original claim. It won't matter +nothin' to Em'ly, but ef the truth be known I +ain't no ways easy in my mind 'bout that Bible +text I was a-repeatin' over to you. It may +be I ain't got the Lord's meanin' exactly clear, +whether the marriages made on this earth are +goin' to hold good in heaven, so you kin surely +see, 'Lizabeth, that there ain't no use in me +addin' complications to the future at my time of +life."</p> + +<p>And here reaching under his pillow Uncle +Ambrose drew forth a crumpled sheet of paper +torn from a book which deeded his cottage to +Elizabeth Horton and five thousand dollars in +bank in the event of her becoming his wife.</p> + +<p>"I know this document ain't legal," he explained, +"but I'll have it writ out fair and square<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +by a lawyer and sign it soon as ever I can ef +you'll only give me a little slip of paper in return +with a few easy words written on it."</p> + +<p>The woman waited a moment puzzled. "I +don't quite understand you, Uncle Ambrose," +she returned.</p> + +<p>"No, of course you don't, child. I just want +to know ef you feel willin' to write down these +here words: 'I, Elizabeth Horton, bein' fourth +wife to Ambrose Thompson, do hereby relinquish +all claim to him come the time when I shall meet +him in heaven.' You see how 'tis, 'Lizabeth," +Uncle Ambrose argued wistfully. "I wisht I'd +thought to make some such plan with Peachy +'fore she died; not that I'm at all certain she'd 'a' +done it," he added truthfully, "but it would 'a' +eased my mind consid'ble in these last childish +days ef I only had little gentle Sarah to explain +things to on the other side. I don't want there +should be any argufyin' or confusion just when +Em'ly and me are tryin' to git off quiet to ourselves +and talk things over."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth did not answer at once, for her vision +did not naturally travel beyond the confines +of this world, but other women before this old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +maid had travelled far in this now old man's +leading. So she did not feel his request to be +either childish or unreasonable, only she too +wanted time to think. For after a while with +her eyes resting affectionately upon the old face +now lying so quiet on the pillow, and at the still +beautiful and once so strong hands clasped together +outside the counterpane, she leaned over +toward him and whispered.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you that paper you want, Uncle +Ambrose, and I'll write on it same as you wish +me to, for I shall have the home, and somehow I +feel it will be only right that you and Em'ly +should have each other."</p> + +<p>"Amen!" whispered Uncle Ambrose.</p> + + +<div class='center'>THE END</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/i-249.jpg" width="150" height="152" alt="Emblem" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='center'> +THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS<br /> +GARDEN CITY, N. Y.<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Loves of Ambrose, by Margaret Vandercook + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOVES OF AMBROSE *** + +***** This file should be named 33289-h.htm or 33289-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/2/8/33289/ + +Produced by Emmy, Darleen Dove and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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