Prev | Current Page 218 | Next

Dixon, Thomas, 1864-1946

"The Southerner A Romance of the Real Lincoln"

They were not talking any more.
But a few minutes were left and he must go--perhaps to die. Words had
ceased to mean anything.
Her heart rose in fierce rebellion against the wall of silence her pride
had reared. A group of magnificently equipped young officers passed on
horseback. Perhaps of General McClellan's staff! She looked in vain
among them for his familiar face. If he passed she would disgrace
herself--she felt it with increasing certainty. Why had she come here,
anyway? As well tell the truth--in the vague hope of a meeting.
The quick beat of a horse's hoof echoed along the road. She looked and
recognized John Vaughan! He was coming straight toward her.
Instinctively and resistlessly she moved to meet him.
She waved her hand in an awkward little gesture as if she had tried to
stop after beginning the movement. His eye had been quick to see and
with a graceful pull on his horse's bridle he had touched the pommel of
the saddle, leaped to his feet, cap in hand, and stood trembling before
her.
"It's too good to be true!" he exclaimed breathlessly.
She extended her bare hand and he held it without protest. It was
trembling violently.
"You were going to leave without an effort to see me?" she asked in low
tones.
"I was just debating that problem when I saw you standing by the road,"
he answered soberly.


Pages:
206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230