The Heart's Kingdom

I went from the front porch up to my room to take off my hat and see if

Martha had come from a day with Mother Spurlock down in the Settlement.

I found instead of Martha or the boy or Mother Elsie, Jessie Litton

seated at my desk and looking out the window across to Paradise Ridge.

"I came up to wait, Charlotte, because--because I'm in deep water and

need a hand out. You have always helped and somehow I feel that you have

so much more to give me now than you ever had. Clifton Gray told me last

night that he loved me and is going to break his engagement with Letitia

Cockrell. He had heard Letitia and Nell talk over Nell's mourning

trousseau for the winter and he was disgusted--that, and--and I think it

has been coming some time. He is with Mr. Goodloe a lot lately in

getting things about the town started to going again and he is--is

thinking. I don't know how to help him think; it's a thing I've never

done. I am at sea myself but I know that he must not throw Letitia over.

Will you talk to him?"

"I couldn't help him if--if Mr. Goodloe can't," I faltered, simply sick

with distress.

"Cliff said not a week ago that your eyes made him feel like a light he

saw ahead on a wooded island after he had drifted without a paddle two

days in a canoe one time in Canada. You'll have to talk to him. Give him

a little life kernel; I've only got shells for myself. I'm going down to

Florida suddenly next week and when I come back I--I, well, I'll either

go into the movies or study with Mother Spurlock to get a deaconess'

cap." As she spoke I saw that the fight was on in Jessie's soul, and it

would be to a finish.

"God bless and keep you, dear," I held her back long enough to say as

she picked up her sweater and left me. Hampton Dibrell has been

constantly with Bessie Thornton since Ted Montgomery's death, and I knew

that Jessie's time of trial had come, for her love for him had grown

through her denial because of the taint of her mad mother. And somehow I

felt sure of the outcome, that she would find strength to let him go. I

didn't know why I felt so sure; but I did, and I went down to the

library with a great peace in my heart that I knew later would be in

hers.

And I made my entry into father's den in the midst of a scene of great

moment. I paused and listened with profound respect. Tradition was on

trial and the result I felt would be momentous. Father sat in his huge

chair before a small crackling fire in the wide chimney, and Martha's

boy stood before him with a large, profusely illustrated volume of Hans

Christian Andersen clasped passionately to his little breast. He had the

floor.