The girl gave a dismayed gasp. Elim hastily placed his load on the
steps and, mounting, beat upon the door. Only a dull echo answered.
Dust fell from the paneling upon his head.
"Maybe they have shut up the front for protection," he suggested. He
made his way to the rear; all was closed. Through the low limbs of
apple trees he could see a double file of small sad brick quarters for
the slaves. They, too, were empty. The place was without a living
being. He stood, undecided, when suddenly he heard Rosemary Roselle
calling with an acute note of fear.
He ran through the binding grass back to the garden.
"Elim Meikeljohn!" She stumbled forward to meet him. "Oh, Elim," she
cried; "there's no one in the world----" A sob choked her utterance.
He fell on his knees before her:
"There's always me."
She sank in a fragrant heap into his arms.
Elim Meikeljohn laughed over her shoulder at his entire worldly goods
on the steps--the fragmentary fruit cake and a bottle of champagne.
Here they are lost on the dimming mirror of the past.
THE THRUSH IN THE HEDGE
I
Harry Baggs came walking slowly over the hills in the blue May dusk. He
could now see below him the clustered roofs and tall slim stack of a
town. His instinct was to avoid it, but he had tramped all day, his
blurred energies were hardly capable of a detour, and he decided to
settle near by for the night. About him the country rose and fell,
clothed in emerald wheat and pale young corn, while trees filled the
hollows with the shadowy purple of their darkening boughs.
Pages:
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267