The Quickening eBook

Francis Lynde Stetson
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 409 pages of information about The Quickening.

The Quickening eBook

Francis Lynde Stetson
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 409 pages of information about The Quickening.

The piercing Dabney eyes were on him, and the fierce white mustaches took the militant angle.

“Tell me, Tom, have you had youh suspicions in that qua’teh, too?  I’m speaking in confidence to a family friend, suh.”

“It is just as well to be on the safe side,” said Tom evasively.  There was enough of the uplift left to make him reluctant to strike his enemy in the dark.

“No, suh, that isn’t what I mean.  You’ve had youh suspicions aroused.  Tell me, suh, what they are.”

“Suppose you tell me yours, Major,” smiled the younger man.

Major Dabney became reflectively reminiscent.  “I don’t know, Tom, and that’s the plain fact.  Looking back oveh ouh acquaintance, thah’s nothing in that young man for me to put a fingeh on; but, Tom, I tell you in confidence, suh, I’d give five yeahs of my old life, if the good Lord has that many mo’ in His book for me, if the blood of the Dabneys didn’t have to be—­uh—­mingled with that of these heah damned Yankees.  I would, for a fact, suh!”

Tom rose and flung away the stub of his third cheroot.

“Then you’ll let me place your third of the new stock in trust for her and her children?” he said.  “That will be best, on all accounts.  By the way, where shall I find Miss Ardea?”

“She’s about the place, somewhahs,” was the reply; and Tom passed on to the electric-lighted lobby to send his card in search of her.

Chance saved him the trouble.  Some one was playing in the music-room and he recognized her touch and turned aside to stand under the looped portieres.  She was alone, and again, as many times before, it came on him with the sense of discovery that she was radiantly beautiful—­that for him she had no peer among women.

It was the score of a Bach fugue that stood on the music-rack, and she was oblivious to everything else until her fingers had found and struck the final chords.  Then she looked up and saw him.

There was no greeting, no welcoming light in the slate-blue eyes; and she did not seem to see when he came nearer and offered to shake hands.

“I’ve been talking to your grandfather for an hour or more,” he began, “and I was just going to send my card after you.  Haven’t you a word of welcome for me, Ardea?”

Her eyes were holding him at arm’s length.

“Do you think you deserve a welcome from any self-respecting woman?” she asked in low tones.

His smile became a scowl—­the anger scowl of the Gordons.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he demanded.  “What have I done to make every woman I meet look at me as if I were a leper?”

She rose from the piano-stool and confronted him bravely.  It was now or never, if their future attitude each to the other was to be succinctly defined.

“You know very well what you have done,” she said evenly.  “If you had a spark of manhood left in you, you would know what a dastardly thing you are doing now in coming here to see me.”

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
The Quickening from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.