|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 22
Dr. Woodburn did not answer at once.
"I don't think you would have been happy with him, Beth," he said, after
a little. "All has been for the best. I was afraid you didn't know what
love meant when you became engaged to him. It was only a school-girl's
fancy."
"Beth, I am going to tell you something," he said a moment later, as he
stroked her hair. "People believe that I always took a special interest
in Arthur Grafton because his father saved my life when we were boys,
but that was not the only reason I loved him. Years ago, down along the
Ottawa river, Lawrence Grafton was pastor in the town where I had my
first practice. He was a grand fellow, and we were the greatest friends.
I used to take him to see my patients often. He was just the one to
cheer them up. Poor fellow! Let's see, it's seventeen years this fall
since he died. It was the first summer I was there, and Lawrence had
driven out into the country with me to see a sick patient. When we were
coming back, he asked me to stop with him at a farm-house, where some
members of his church lived. I remember the place as if I had seen it
yesterday, an old red brick building, with honeysuckle climbing about
the porch and cherry-trees on the lawn. The front door was open, and
there was a flight of stairs right opposite, and while we waited for an
answer to the bell a beautiful woman, tall and graceful, paused at the
head of the stairs above us, and then came down. To my eyes she was the
most beautiful woman I had ever seen, Beth. She was dressed in white,
and had a basket of flowers on her arm. She smiled as she came towards
us. Her hair was glossy-black, parted in the middle, and falling in
waves about her smooth white forehead; but her eyes were her real
beauty, I never saw anything like them, Beth. They were such great,
dark, tender eyes. They seemed to have worlds in them. It was not long
before I loved Florence Waldon. I loved her." His voice had a strange,
deep pathos in it. "She was kind to me always, but I hardly dared to
hope, and one day I saw her bidding good-bye to Lawrence. It was only a
look and a hand-clasp, but it was a revelation to me. I kept silent
about my love from that hour, and one evening Lawrence came to my rooms.
"'Congratulate me, Arthur!' he cried, in a tone that bubbled over with
joy. I knew what was coming, but the merciful twilight concealed my
face. 'Congratulate me, Arthur! I am going to marry Florence Waldon next
month, and you must be best man.'
"I did congratulate him from the depth of my heart, and I was best man
at the wedding; and when their little son was born they named him Arthur
after me. He is the Arthur Grafton you have known. But poor Lawrence!
Little Arthur was only a few months old when she took sick. They called
me in, and I did all I could to save her, but one night, as Lawrence and
I stood by her bedside--it was a wild March night, and the wind was
moaning through the shutters while she slept--suddenly she opened her
eyes with a bright look.
"'Oh, Lawrence, listen, they are singing!' she cried, 'it is so
beautiful; I am going home--good-bye--take care of Arthur,' and she was
gone."
Dr. Woodburn paused a moment, and his breath came faster.
"After that I came to Briarsfield and met your mother, Beth. She seemed
to understand from my face that I had suffered, and after we had become
friends I told her that story, that I had never told to mortal before or
since till now. She was so very tender, and I saw in her face that she
loved me, and by-and-by I took her to wife, and she healed over the
wound with her gentle hands. She was a sweet woman, Beth. God bless her
memory. But the strange part of the story is, Florence Waldon's brother,
Garth, had settled on that farm over there, the other side of the
pine-wood. She had two other brothers, one a talented editor in the
States, the other a successful lawyer. Garth, too, was a bright,
original fellow; he had a high standard of farm life, and he lived up to
it. He was a good man and a truly refined one, and when poor Lawrence
died he left little Arthur--he was three years old then--to him. The
dear little fellow; he looked so much like his mother. He used to come
and hold you in his arms when you were in long dresses, and then, do you
remember a few years later, when your own sweet mother died, how he came
to comfort you and filled your lap with flowers?"
Yes, Beth remembered it all, and the tears were running down her cheeks
as she drooped her head in silence. The door-bell broke the stillness
just then. Dr. Woodburn was wanted. Bidding Beth a hasty but tender
good-bye, he hurried off at the call of duty. Beth sat gazing at the
coal-fire in silence after her father left. Poor dear old father! What
a touching story it was! He must have suffered so, and yet he had buried
his sorrow and gone about his work with smiling face. Brave, heroic
soul! Beth fell to picturing it all over again with that brilliant
imagination of hers, until she seemed to see the tall woman, with her
beautiful dark eyes and hair, coming down the stairs, just as he had
seen her. She seemed to hear the March winds moan as he stepped out into
the night and left the beautiful young wife, pale in death. Then she
went to the window and looked out at the stars in the clear sky, and the
meadow tinged with the first frost of autumn; and the pine-wood to the
north, with the moon hanging like a crescent of silver above it. It was
there, at that window, Arthur had asked her to be his wife. Poor Arthur!
She was glad her father did not know. It would have pained him to think
she had refused the son of the woman he had loved.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|