So intense were his
absent thoughts that they impressed the woman and the child; they
knew that he was back in the past and waited patiently while for a
few kind moments he forgot. At length his eyes shifted and he took
up his broken phrase, unconscious, evidently, of the pause. "--her's
are back in New England. They never knew.... I had _some_ pride.
They're the I-told-you-so sort, anyhow. And they told her, all
right. Oh yes, they told her! Narrow-minded, God-fearing prigs!" He
stared at Mrs. Ufford curiously. "But they paid their debts, all the
same," he added with a harsh laugh, "and that's more than I've been
able to do, I suppose you're thinking."
But almost before the dark red had flushed her tired, lined face,
he leaned forward and touched her shoulder kindly.
"I didn't mean that," he apologized. "I'm half crazy, I think.
You've been as good as gold, and even when I've paid you the money I
owe you, I'll owe you more than I can ever pay. I know that. And
you're New England, too."
His sudden softening encouraged the woman, and she looked
appealingly up at him, while she patted the bundle on her lap.
"Folks have hearts in New England, Mr. Williston," she began, "and
if you was to go to her folks or write to 'em, I guess you'd
find--oh, couldn't you?"
His impatient hand checked her.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92