Westways: A Village Chronicle Part 87

She began to feel that she was perilously close to tears, as he said softly, "Leila Grey!"

"John Penhallow, will you take me-oh, John! I love you."

He caught her hand and touched it with his lips reverently.

"If," she cried, "if you do not give me back my kiss, I shall die of shame."

He bent over her and kissed her forehead lightly, as though he were in fear of too familiar approach to a thing too sacred for a rude caress. A great surf-like rush of comprehension swept over the woman. "Was I so loved as this-so honoured?" Then she said suddenly, "You are pale-are you in pain?" for she saw him grasp the wounded arm and set his teeth.

"Yes, yes-sometimes-when things happen-it wakes up and reminds me. I shall be better in a moment. Take care"-for her arms were around him-"I think, dear, I am not yet as strong as I shall be-but love is a great tonic, and-I can bear no more to-night. I am in pain. I fear this has been too much for me."

Then he kissed her on lips that took it as a great draft from the fountain of youth and love. "To-morrow, dear, we will ride together-in the morning. Ah, together!"

"Where-Jack?"

"Oh, into fairyland! G.o.d bless you! Great Heavens, how beautiful you are!

Good-night!"

She fell into a seat as he went out, and heard his feet on the stair-then he stood beside her again.

"Leila, forgive me-I was hard-uncourteous-to make you say-"

"Hush!" she cried, between tears and laughter, as she put her hand over his mouth, "no one shall abuse my Jack-not even Captain Penhallow. There, sir! I deserved it." She ran by him, and was gone.

I have not the pa.s.s-words into fairyland, and where they rode that morning in September is not within my knowledge; nor can I say what adventures they may have met with. The byways of this enchanted land here and there by ill-luck come near to the haunts of men, who may catch glimpses of such as ride through fairyland unsuspicious of other eyes. Billy neglectful of mails this morning, was on the river bobbing for eels. To be long attentive to anything was for him impossible, wherefore his wandering gaze caught sight for a moment through the fringe of willows of two people riding slowly. He saw with amazement that on horseback in fairyland the feat of kissing is possible.

Some hours later, my lovers, feeling as John wickedly quoted, that "the world is too much with us," rode into Westways to get Billy's neglected mail.

Mr. Crocker, lean and deaf, at ease in charge of the grocery counter, sat unoccupied in his shirt sleeves, while Mrs. Crocker bent over the mail she had sorted. There were letters for the little group of village folk, who read them at once as they sat on the step or as they moved away stumbling along the sidewalk.

Mrs. Crocker sallied out with a batch of letters. "Quite a lot, Captain.

Good-morning, Leila."

"Mail these, Mrs. Crocker," said the travellers fresh from fairyland.

"I saw some was from the Squire and some from Mrs. Penhallow-Squire's writing better."

"You wicked Mrs. Crocker," said John, "how much you pick up of folk's secrets, I should like to know-"

"Secrets!" laughed Leila. "They can't be read on the outside of letters."

Then Mrs. Crocker on the sidewalk to them on horseback began to talk.

John seeing that Leila was interested and amused sat still and listened.

"Secrets," exclaimed the post-mistress, "ain't all inside of letters. They're on the envelopes sometimes. Oh! I've seen 'em in war time, letters that looked like they'd been out in the rain-sort of blistered; and people here in those days just tore open their letters and laughed or cried." Mrs. Crocker caught her breath and paused.

"I know, John," said Leila in a low aside.

"And there used to come back from the front letters marked 'missing' or 'can't be found.' Folks used to come in gay and go away with a letter just crumpled up in a hand. And now it's all over-and up you come right gallant and happy. Here comes old Granny Lamb tottering along. I'd invent a letter from that brute if I could. I tell you, Leila, mother-hope dies hard."

"It is sad-dreadful. Come, John."

"One minute, please," said Mrs. Crocker, "I'm not half done. I tell you, Captain John, there's a heap of human nature comin' and goin' through a post-office. Well, good-bye."

They rode away to Grey Pine exchanging bits from their letters. Their uncle and aunt would be home in a week. "Sooner-if they get the letter I mailed last night," laughed Leila.

"I should like to have seen it."

"No doubt."

At the open avenue gate Josiah was waiting. He saluted in soldier fashion, Penhallow acknowledging the greeting in like manner.

Josiah said, "Wouldn't you just let me have a minute with the Captain?"

Leila laughed. "Certainly." She rode away wondering what Josiah had to report alone to the man who for him was and always would he Captain despite the old custom of the regular army.

"Well, Josiah-nothing wrong, I trust."

"No, sir-everything just entirely right-but first I got to ask your advice. I've had a letter from the Colonel-he just says some things ought to make a man kind of blush."

John had the odd thought that a blush must be the securely private property of a fellow as black as this grey-headed old friend. "What does he say, Josiah?"

"He wants to give me a farm."

"Well, why not-you have earned a dozen."

"I'd like it-but-if you're goin' to marry Miss Leila, I'd rather live with you."

"Good Heavens!" said the traveller out of fairyland, "what put that in your head?"

Josiah smiled. "You'll please to excuse me, Captain-but I thought I ought to tell you about that fool Billy. He was bobbin' for eels-and-he saw you go by-"

"Well, what else?"

"He met me and he said, 'Saw Mr. John kissin' Miss Leila!' He was off like a shot singin' out 'Goin' to get married, sure.' It will be all over Westways by noon, sir."

John laughed. "Well, it's true, Josiah-Confound Billy! Well, what more?"

"Oh, I would rather live with you. The Colonel wants to give me a farm-don't want any farm."

"Well, well-we'll see about it later."

"The trouble would be, sir, who's to shave the Colonel?"

"That's serious," said John, as he rode away to rejoin Leila, who had meant to keep their secret from the village until their aunt's return. Three days went by before Ann Penhallow's letter of reply came to hand.

"Well, any more news, Leila?" said John.

"Yes, but not altogether pleasant-I am to leave early tomorrow. Uncle Jim will meet me in Philadelphia-and, oh! I know Aunt Ann well-there will be no end of shopping."

"I should feel worse about it, Leila, but I see by one of my letters that there is some row in Pittsburgh over our last rails. I am not responsible, but I must go to-night and see about it. Isn't it dreadful, Leila?"