Читать книгу The Man in Gray - Jr. Thomas Dixon - Страница 5

Table of Contents

Stuart led Mary to a seat beneath an oak, brushed the dust away with his cap and asked her to honor him. He bowed low over her hand and dared to kiss it.

She passed the gallant act as a matter of course and sat down beside him with quiet humor. She knew the symptoms. A born flirt, as every true Southern girl has always been, she eyed his embarrassment with surprise. She knew that he was going to speak under the resistless impulse of youth and romance, and that no hearts would be broken on either side no matter what the outcome.

She watched him indulgently. She had to like him. He was the kind of boy a girl couldn't help liking. He was vital, magnetic and exceptionally good looking. He sang and danced and flirted, but beneath the fun and foolishness slumbered a fine spirit, tender, reverent, deeply religious. It was this undercurrent of strength that drew the girl. He was always humming a song, his heart bubbling over with joy. He had never uttered an oath or touched a drop of liquor amid all the gaiety of the times in which he lived.

"Miss Mary," he began slowly.

"Now Jeb," she interrupted. "You don't have to, you know—"

Stuart threw his head back, laughed, and sang a stanza from "Annie

Laurie" in a low, tender voice. He paused and faced his fair tormentor.

"Miss Mary, I've got to!"

"You don't have to make love to me just because you're my brother's classmate—"

"You know I'm not!" he protested.

"You're about to begin."

"But not for that reason, Miss Mary—"

He held her gaze so seriously that she blushed before she could recover her poise. He saw his advantage and pressed it.

"I'm telling you that I love you because you're the most adorable girl

I've ever known."

His boyish, conventional words broke the spell.

"I appreciate the tribute which you so gallantly pay me, Sir Knight. But I happen to know that the moonlight, the music of a dance, the song of birds this morning and the beauty of the landscape move you, as they should. You're young. You're too good looking. You're fine and unspoiled and I like you, Jeb. But you don't know yet what love means."

"I do, Miss Mary, I do."

"You don't and neither do I. You're in love with love. And so am I. It's the morning of life and why shouldn't we be like this?"

"There's no hope?" he asked dolefully.

"Of course, there's hope. There's something fine in you, and you'll find yourself in the world when you ride forth to play your part. And I'll follow you with tender pride."

"But not with love," he sighed.

"Maybe—who knows?" she smiled.

"Is that all the hope you can give me?"

"Isn't it enough?"

He gazed into her serious eyes a moment and laughed with boyish enthusiasm.

"Yes, it is, Miss Mary! You're glorious. You're wonderful. You make me ashamed of my foolishness. You inspire me to do things. And I'm going to do them for your sake."

"For your own sake, because God has put the spark in your soul. Your declaration of love has made me very happy. We're too young yet to take it seriously. We must both live our life in its morning before we settle down to the final things. They'll come too soon."

"I'm going to love you always, Miss Mary," he protested.

"I want you to. But you'll probably marry another girl."

"Never!"

"And I know you'll be her loyal knight, her devoted slave. It's a way our Southern boys have. And it's beautiful."

Stuart studied the finely chiseled face with a new reverence.

"Miss Mary, you've let me down so gently. I don't feel hurt at all."

A sweet silence fell between them. A breeze blew the ringlets of the girl's hair across the pink of her cheek. A breeze from the garden laden with the mingled perfume of roses. A flock of wild ducks swung across the lawn high in the clear sky and dipped toward the river. Across the fields came a song of slaves at work in the cornfield, harvesting the first crop of peas planted between the rows.

Stuart caught her hand, pressed it tenderly and kissed it.

"You're an angel, Miss Mary. And I'm going to worship you, if you won't let me love you."

The girl returned his earnest look with a smile and slowly answered:

"All right, Beauty Stuart, we'll see—"