He was on his way
now to her house, to put the thing to the test before she could leave
Washington. Thank God, the spider was tied down here at the Sardinian
Ministry. He hoped Victor Emmanuel would send him as Consul to Shanghai.
Mrs. Barton met him at the door with a motherly smile.
"Walk right in the parlor, Dick. It's sweet of you to come so early
to-day. We're all in tears, packing to go. Jennie'll be delighted to see
you. Poor child--she's sick over it all."
Mrs. Barton pressed Dick's hand with the softest touch that reassured
his fears. The only trouble about Mrs. Barton was she was gentle and
friendly to everybody, black and white, old and young, Yankee or
Southerner. She was even sorry for old John Brown when they hung him.
"Poor thing, he was crazy," she said tenderly. "They ought to have sent
him to the asylum."
Try as he might, he couldn't fling off the impression of tragedy the
meeting of Socola with Jennie had produced. He was in a nervous fit to
see and tell her of his love. Why the devil hadn't he done so before
anyhow? They might have been engaged and ready to be married by this
time. They had met when she was sixteen.
Why on earth couldn't he throw off the fool idea that he was going to
lose her? His big fist suddenly closed with resolution.
Pages:
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138