In the
growing mass of mail that was kept in a wide wooden box under the
bed--letters that in number "had got away" from the Sergeant's ability
to answer--there were displayed many mental idiosyncrasies and an
abundance of advice, and there were many strange requests. Some of them
were pathetic begging letters, as tho the Sergeant were a rich man; some
came from prison-cells, asking his influence to secure a pardon; some
from those still desirous of securing a business partnership with him.
Among them were even belated matrimonial proposals, describing the
writers' attractive qualities. These the big Sergeant teasingly turned
over to the golden-haired girl who, herself, had come but recently into
that home, and they may safely be classed among those letters the
Sergeant could never answer.
While he was at home, which was now only for brief intervals between
trips in answer to the invitations he had accepted, it was noted that he
was unusually quiet. Often he would sit for an hour or more upon the
door-step, looking out past the arbor of honeysuckle, over the acres of
land that had been given him, gazing on to the mountains. But he kept
his own counsel. Some of those who lived in the valley, who saw him
sitting, thinking, wondered if there had come a longing into Alvin's
heart to be out in the world again.
Pages:
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166