The invalid’s tones were growing weaker and something querulous sounded in them as she repeated, “Promise me, Rhoda, promise!”
The linked hands upon Rhoda’s neck loosened their hold and the tired arms slipped down. She bowed her head upon her mother’s breast as she sobbed, “Let me think for a minute, mother, dear! It breaks my heart not to do what you want!”
“It breaks mine, Rhoda, that you don’t. Oh, honey, let me die in peace and happiness! Promise me that you’ll marry Jeff!”
Rhoda saw that her father had entered the room and was standing at her side. She sprang to her feet, threw her arms about his neck and with her head upon his shoulder burst into a passion of tears.
“Father, tell me what to do!” she wailed.
His arms were about her, his face upon her hair, and his tears were mingling with hers. In that supreme moment of grief, compassion and struggle the icy barriers that had kept their hearts apart melted away and they clung together in their common despair, groping through their sobs for the right thing to say and do.
Suddenly they were startled by a gay little laugh from the bed. “You’ve come at last, have you, Adeline, dearest! How late you are!” the dying woman exclaimed, holding out her hands in welcome. From her face the shadow had passed and in its place shone a girlish happiness. She was back again among the friends of her youth, chatting and laughing with “dearest Adeline,” and calling upon “mammy” to do this and that. And so, babbling of her girlhood’s pleasures, she passed into the dark beyond.
CHAPTER XXV
During the late summer and autumn of that year Rhoda and her father and their friends watched with the keenest interest, as did people all over the country, the struggle in Illinois between Lincoln and Douglas. In the Cincinnati and New York papers they read the speeches, printed at length, of both the aspirants for senatorial honors, and on many an evening, gathered on the veranda of the Ware home or, after the evenings grew cool, around the fireplace in the living-room, they discussed all the features of that famous intellectual wrestling match.
Horace Hardaker had been nominated for Congress by the Republican party and was conducting a vigorous campaign. Nevertheless, he found time to come frequently up the hill to Dr. Ware’s house for these talks. Marcia Kimball came also, at first with her brothers, but after a little Rhoda observed that it was oftener with Hardaker that she made her appearance and always upon his arm that she leaned when they went away. With an inward smile Rhoda noticed too that Horace, with apparent unconsciousness, began to address his conversation mainly toward Marcia.