The Heart's Kingdom

"I just can't stand it, Charlotte," said Jessie to me in a low voice, as

I came from the hands of the skillful Sallie and stood beside the window

next to the desk. "You are all I have got and only you--you understand.

I can't give you up. I'm frightened."

"Hush--so am I," I answered her, as my hand gripped her shoulder under

her heavy linen frock until I felt it must bruise it. Then I turned to

the others, collected them and descended to finish breakfast with the

Poplars' guests.

Never a more radiantly beautiful morning had spread its loveliness over

the Harpeth Valley than the one I found out in the garden that

twenty-seventh day of September, the gala day in the history of

Goodloets. Huge white clouds drifted back and forth in a deep blue sky

and they were rosy at times with the sunlight, but from some of the

largest little tongues of lightning darted, while others were lit by

what seemed to be an internal glow of fire. Cool winds, perfumed with

the harvests and the ripening orchards and the vineyards out in the

valley, rustled in the treetops and flaunted in the vines. The ardent

sun seemed to be drawing from the bosom of the earth a hot mist which

lay over the town like a filmy bridal veil, only stirred gently by the

vagrant veering gusts of wind. Nature seemed to be holding herself in

leash and only breathing upon the earth gently, as if to stir some

latent lushness into autumnal activity.

"A perfect Harpeth day for Mr. Jeffries," said the Governor, as he came

from his seat at the table to greet the girls and me. The rest of the

masculine breakfasters followed and I could see from the devastation of

the table that they had all breakfasted well and to repletion. I also

detected the worthless Jefferson, whom Mr. Goodloe had evidently loaned

to his parents for the occasion, lift father's full glass of julep and

drain it with one gulp, grab the half glass that Nickols had left, gulp

it and begin on the finger or so in Billy's tumbler before Dabney could

forcibly but quietly restrain him. In fact, I felt there would have

been a riot among my servitors if Mr. Goodloe had not stepped aside and

spoken a low word to Jefferson, which sent him busily at the table with

his tray.

And from that moment Nickols' triumphant procession of inspection of

Goodloets began. Mr. Jeffries stood in the middle of the reincarnated

old garden, looked for a long time at the Poplars, which was like a

green encrusted gem with its old purple red brick under the vines,

glanced again and again at the chapel with its weathered stone that

stood beyond the silver-leafed graybeards, then let his eye wander down

the broad elm-bordered main street past the courthouse and past the

Settlement to the river bending around it all.