Phoebe Deane (Romance Classic). Grace Livingston Hill

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ for a moment. I will be with you right away."

      Then came Janet's sweet, vexed tones:

      " Oh, Nathaniel! How tiresome! Can't you let it go ? Was it of any consequence? Shall we come and help you find it?"

      "No, Janet, thank you. I know just where I dropped it, and I will be with you again before you have missed me. Keep right on."

      Then he turned, swiftly, and came back to the laurel, before the startled Phoebe, who had intended running away at once, could realize that he was coming.

      She sprang up with the instinct of fleeing from him, but as if the laurel were loath to part with her, it reached out detaining fingers and caught her by the strands of her fine brown hair; and down came the soft, shining waves of hair, in shameless, lovely disorder about the flushed face, and rippling far below the waist of the buff frock. The sun caught it and kissed it into a thousand lights and shadows of brown and red and purple and gold. A strand here and there clung to the laurel as if the charm were mutual, and made a fine veil of spun gold before her face. Thus she stood abashed, with her hair unbound before the stranger, her face in a beautiful confusion.

      Now this young man had gazed upon many a maiden's hair with entire indifference. In the days of his boyhood he had even dared to attach a paper kite to the yellow braids of a girl who sat in front of him in school, and laughed with the rest at recess, as after carefully following her with hidden kite and wound-up cord they had succeeded in launching the paper thing in the breeze till it lifted the astonished victim's yellow plaits high in air and she cried out angrily upon them. He had even pulled many a girl's hair. He had watched his cousin Janet brush and plait and curl her abundant locks into the various changing fashions, and criticized the effect freely. He had once untied a hard knot in a bonnet string among a mass of golden curls without a thrill. Why therefore did he feel such awe as he approached in deep embarrassment to offer his assistance! Why did his fingers tremble as he laid them reverently upon a strand of hair that had tangled itself in the laurel? Why did it bring a fine ecstasy into his being as the wind blew it across his face? Did all hair have that delicate, indescribable perfume about it?

      When he had set her free from the entangling bushes, he marveled at the dexterity with which she reduced the flying hair to order and imprisoned it meekly. It seemed like magic.

      Then, before she had time to spring out of her covert, he took her hands, firmly, reverently, without undue familiarity, and helped her to the top of the log and thence to the ground. She liked him for the way he did it, so different from the way the other men she knew would have done it. She shuddered to think if it had been Hank, or Hiram Green.

      " Come this way, it is nearer to the road," he said, quietly, parting the branches at his right to let her pass, and when she had gone a few steps, behold, not two rods below lay the cross road, which met the highway by which she had come, a quarter of a mile farther on.

      " But you have forgotten your letter," she turned to say, as they came out of the woods and began to descend the hill; " and I can get out quite well now. You have been very kind——"

      " I will get the letter presently," he said, with a smile. " Just let me help you over the fence. I want to ask your pardon for my intrusion. I did not see you at first, the woods were so quiet, and you looked so much like the yellow leaves that lay all about—" and his eyes cast an admiring glance at the buff merino.

      " Oh, it was not an intrusion," she exclaimed, her cheeks rosy with the remembrance, " and I am so grateful to you for telling me they were coming. I would not have liked to be found there—so." She looked shyly up. " I thank you very much!"

      He saw that her eyes were beautiful, with ripples of laughter and shadows of sorrow in their glance. He experienced a deep and unnecessary satisfaction that his first impression of her face was verified, and he stood looking down upon her as if she were something he was proud of having discovered and rescued from an unpleasant fate.

      Phoebe felt a warm glow like sunshine breaking over her in the kindness of his look.

      " Don't thank me," he said. " I felt like a criminal, intruding so upon your trouble."

      " But you must not feel so. It was only that I had been reading a letter from my mother, and it made me feel so lonely that I cried."

      " That is trouble enough," he said, with quick sympathy. " Is your mother away from home, or are you? "

      " My mother is dead. She has been gone a good many years," she said, with quivering lips. " She wrote this letter long ago for me to read to-day, and I came away here by myself to read it. Now, you will understand."

      He had helped her over the rail fence that separated the field from the road, and they were standing she on the road side, he on the field side of the fence as they talked. Neither of them saw a farm wagon coming down the road over the brow of the hill, a mere speck against the autumn sky when they came out of the woods. The young man's face kindled as he answered:

      " Thank you for telling me. Yes, now I will understand. My mother has been gone a long time, too. I wish she had written me a letter to read to-day."

      Then, as if he knew he must not stay longer, he lifted his hat, smiled, and walked quickly up the hill, while Phoebe sped swiftly down the road, not noticing the glories of the day, nor thinking so much of her own troubles, but marveling at what had happened and living it all over once more in imagination. She knew without thinking that a wagon was rumbling nearer and nearer, but she gave it no heed.

      Nathaniel Graham, when he reached the edge of the wood, turned and looked back down the road; saw the girl in her yellow draperies moving in the autumn sunshine, and watched her intently. The driver of the farm wagon, now almost opposite to him, watched glumly from behind his bags of wheat, high piled, sneered under his breath at the fine attire, half guessed who he was; then wondered who the girl was who kept tryst so far from any houses, and with a last glance at the man just vanishing into the woods he whipped up his team, resolved to find out.

      CHAPTER VI

       Table of Contents

      Nathaniel Graham went to pick up the letter he had left behind the log, but as he did so his eye caught something brown, lying on the ground among the laurel near the letter. He reached out and took it. It was a bit of a bow of brown velvet, and seemed strangely a part of the girl who had been there but a few moments before. What part had this bit of velvet played in her make-up? Had it been worn at her throat, or in her wonderful hair? He never doubted that it was hers. As he raised it wonderingly in his hand to look at it more closely he fancied he caught the same subtle fragrance that had been in her hair. His fingers closed pleasantly about the soft little thing. For a moment he pondered whether he ought to go after her and give it to her. Then farther up the hill he heard the voices calling him, and with a pleasant smile he tucked it into his inner pocket beside the letter that had played so important a part in the little affair. He rather liked to think he had that bit of velvet himself, and perhaps it was not of much value to the owner. It might at least make another opportunity of seeing her. And so he passed on up the hill with something besides the freedom of Texas to think upon.

      Meantime, the load of wheat went down the road after Phoebe at a lively pace, and its driver, in no pleasant mood because he had been all the way to Albany with his wheat and had been unable to sell it, studied the graceful sunlit figure ahead of him, and wondered what there was about it so strangely familiar.

      Phoebe had just reached the highroad and paused to think which СКАЧАТЬ