"No, I'm going to shoo him in here right now," answered David, bent upon

the immediate accomplishment of his scheme for the relief of his very

independent lady-love from her friendly durance. "You just wait and get a

line of moon-talk ready for him. Keep that rose in your hand and handle

your eyes carefully."

"Oh, but it's impossible!" exclaimed Caroline with real alarm in her

voice. She rose and the flower fell shattered at her feet. "I'm going to

have a little business talk with the major before Captain Cantrell and

the other gentlemen come. I have an appointment with him. Won't you leave

it to the gods?"

"No, for the gods might not know Phoebe. She'd hunt a hot brick for a

sick kitten if I was freezing to death, and besides I need her in my

business at this very moment."

"Caroline, my dear," said the major from the door into the library, "from

the strenuosity in the tones of David Kildare I judge he is discussing

his usual topic. Phoebe and Andrew have just gone and left their good-bys

for you both."

"Now, Major," demanded David indignantly, "how could you let her get away

when you had her here?"

"Young man," answered the major, "the constraining of a woman of these

times is well-nigh impossible, as you should have found out after your

repeated efforts in that direction."

"That's it, Major, you can't hang out any signal for them now; you have

to grab them as they go past, swing out into space and pray for strength

to hold on. I believe if you stood still they would come and feed out of

your hand a heap quicker than they will be whistled down--if you can get

the nerve to try 'em. Think I'll go and see." And David took his

studiedly unhurried departure.

"David Kildare translates courtship into strange modern terms," remarked

the major as he led Caroline into the library and seated her in Mrs.

Matilda's low chair near his own.

"The roses are blooming this morning, my dear," he said, looking

with delight at the soft color in her cheeks and the stars in her

black-lashed, violet eyes. A shaft of sunlight glinted in the gold of her

hair which was coiled low and from which little tendrils curled down on

her white neck.

She was very dainty and lovely, was Caroline Darrah Brown, with the

loveliness of a windflower and young with the innocent youngness of an

April day. She was slightly different from any girl the major had ever

known and he observed her type with the greatest interest.

She had been tutored and trained and French-convented and specialized by

adepts in the inculcating of every air and grace with which the women of

vaster wealth are expected to be equipped. Money and the girl had been

the ruling passions of Peters Brown's life and the one had been all for

the serving purposes of the other. It had been the one aim of his

existence to bring to a perfect flowering the new-born bud his southern

wife had left him, and he had succeeded. Yet she seemed so slight a

woman-thing to be bearing the burden of a great wealth and a great

loneliness that the major's eyes grew very tender as he asked: "What is it, clear, a crumpled rose-leaf?"




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024