"It isn't from Pryor, then," William commented.

"Oh, William," Martha whispered, "what shall we do? Must you give it

to her now?--oh, William!"

Dr. King stood staring at the orange-colored envelope in silence.

"Shall I call Dr. Lavendar?" Martha asked breathlessly.

"Wait," her husband said; "let me think: it may not be anybody very

near and dear; but whether it is or not, there is nothing she can do

about it to-night. The telegraph-office is closed. I don't see why her

evening need be spoiled. No; I won't give it to her now. When the

people go--"

"Oh, dear! Dr. Lavendar says we must end up with a reel. But I'll get

them off as soon as I can," Martha declared, in her capable voice,

"and then I'll break it to her."

"I will tell her," the doctor said. He put the envelope in his pocket

with a troubled frown.

"If she is in affliction, a woman will be more comfort to her than a

man," Martha instructed him. "Look at her now, poor thing! She little

thinks--No indeed; I must stay with her. I'm very tired, and she's not

very friendly, but I won't shirk my duty on that account. That's one

thing about me: I may not be perfect, but I don't let personal

feelings interfere with duty."

"It isn't your duty," William said impatiently; "you'd better arrange

about the reel." And with that he left her. But he was so uneasy at

withholding the telegram that he forgot to choose a partner, and let

Martha push him into place opposite Miss Maggie Jay, who was so stout

that when the two large bodies went jigging down the lane, the

clasping hands arched above their heads had to break apart to give

them room.

"She may think I ought to have told her at once," William was saying

to himself, watching Mrs. Richie with such furtive attention that he

forgot to turn his partner, until Martha's sharp reminder set him

shuffling his feet, and grinning in a sickly way at panting Miss

Maggie.... "Who is 'F.'? Will 'F.'s death be a great grief? Will she

suffer?" William King's kind heart began to beat thickly in his

throat. If she should cry! He bowed, with stiffly swinging arms to

Miss Maggie. He thought of Helena,--who was moving through the dance

as a flower sways on its stalk,--as one thinks of a child in pain;

with the impulse to hold out his arms. In his absorption he stood

stock-still--but happily the reel was over, and the people were

beginning to say good-by. He drew a long breath of relief at getting

rid of them, and as he stood waiting, Martha plucked at his sleeve.

"Give me the despatch; I'll break it to her."




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024