"'Member, Dumplin'," he said with a tender intonation, odious now to her sensitive nerves, "ye promised ye'd b'lieve me ef I'd leave the shootin' iron. I kem hyar fur nuthin on yearth, precious dear, but ter see yer sweet eyes, an' kiss the hem o' yer frock."
He reached out his hand as if to lay hold on a plait of the draped skirt, but she shrank back in disgust and repulsion.
"Don't—don't," she said sharply. Then, to mask her aversion, "Somebody's kemin' now. Thar will be travellers soon, to an' fro to the town, an' it'll be remarked how long I stood hyar talkin' ter a ole rag'muffin. Somebody might suspect 'twould be more natchural ef he war a peart lookin' young man. 'Twould be better ef we war ter part."
She began to walk slowly along—she was languid, feeble—holding the pistol hidden in a fold of her dress.
"Time's slow, till I see you agin, Honey-sweet," he called after her, as he stood and watched her progress in the chasm-like rift the red clay road made in the midst of the dense forest.
"Time's forever, till I see you agin," she declared. Her gait suddenly gathered speed, and she fled like a deer, like the wind through the shadows, and was lost in their midst.
He stood, his face still looking toward the spot where she had disappeared, even after the iteration of the impact of her swift feet upon the ground had ceased to sound. He was silent as he listened, but at length he turned with a contemptuous laugh that yet partook of the characteristics of a malignant snarl. He shook his head to and fro with the prophetic triumph of an unspoken thought. Then he began to retrace his way toward the town, and though there were none to observe him, he leaned heavily on his thick stick, after the manner of an old man, walking with one step longer than the other, apparently feebler in one limb. He kept his head bowed as he approached Colbury, only now and then lifting it to gaze out from beneath the flapping brim of the old white hat, as the town gradually came into view, nestled—as it were—in the heart of the great hills. They loomed darkly, indistinguishably, above it at this hour, and the grey and purple mists were vaguely visible, outlining ravines. The courthouse tower arose with an impressive architectural effect in the dim night. Stars in the vague sky struck indefinite glimmers from the long shining steeples of the churches. Below trees interposed, but he could discern a sort of halo of illumination among the roofs that was the exponent of the kindling lights heralding the evening attractions of the Street Fair.
CHAPTER XII
The lights of the Street Carnival were all broadly a-flare in the purple dusk when the Laniston party once more issued forth into the square. The stars, now in scintillating myriads, shone white from a remote and richly dark sky; across it in tattered fragments thin tawny clouds were flying before the wind, stragglers from the routed armies of the storm. The young moon, golden as it tended toward the west, but with a vague, veiling, pearly tissue, illumined the upper atmosphere and showed even the bending of the tree tops of the nearest forests as they crouched before the blast. There was a suggestion of solemnity, of silence, of the great latent forces of nature, of the unresponsive, insoluble problems of creation when one glanced off to that benighted landscape under the voiceless moon. But the sordid purlieus of the little square rang with the spielers' solicitations, the hucksters' cries, the wild clatter of the merry-go-round, whizzing gaily to the music of the band,—every saddle was bestridden; every chariot was occupied with the philandering rural youth, who saw no incongruity in being obliged to shout soft nothings to each other amidst the grinding of the machinery, the blare of the band and the clamour of voices as loud as their own. The Flying Lady was a-wing in her tent, its outer aspect suggesting a great illuminated mushroom; and from a similar semblance close at hand issued the heart-rending howls of Wick-Zoo, that made many a rustic shiver now with fascinated fear, and with reminiscent horror at every casual recollection far away in his mountain home for six months to come. At every turn was this glow of canvas, the lamps within shining through the translucent fabric, and threading their way amongst these tents Mr. Jardine and his two fair young charges came presently to the base of the frame of the great wheel, its periphery reaching high up above all the glare and sound, the glow of its infrequent electric bulbs seeming to enstar the dim purple dusk.
The wind had freshened considerably, but it was no deterrent to those who would fain try the revolution, for only three of the settees were now vacant, and while the earlier comers were poised, gently swinging high in mid-air, the obliging custodian of the monster was affably ready to receive the price of admission and accommodate as many passengers as could find places. The contrivance had long been a trite feature at all shows and street fairs and pleasure grounds catering to the amusement of the humbler populace, but to Mr. Jardine, who did not frequent entertainments of this description, it was as astounding a novelty as to any backwoods denizen of Persimmon Cove. Its method of operation was of course obvious at the first glance, but he asked several questions of its custodian as he stood with the young ladies at the wicket below and passed in the price for its giddy pleasure, and if he had not been thus occupied he might have been pleased to observe that while they were submitted to the critical gaze of the jostling crowd, arrayed with so special a daintiness, their jaunty bravado wilted a trifle and their ready laughter had frozen into an icy dignity of demeanour. It might seem difficult for a lady in an Irish lace blouse and a crisp white linen skirt, determined on an ascent in a Ferris Wheel in a rough country crowd, to maintain the aloof, pale hauteur of a princess, but Lucia's aspect in the light of the sparse electric bulbs and the flickering torches was calculated to thus impress all privileged to gaze upon her. There was a respectful silence pervading the crowd for a few moments after they had reached the spot, but the interests of self are predominant, and after a modicum of patience Mr. Jardine was unceremoniously urged.