And I replied, that "the recollection of his face, as it
then appeared to me, would be in itself an inspiration through all the
days to come."
There was silence for a space, and then John continued:--
"Have you found it on the map, yet?"
"What, please?"
"Kedarville!" with bitter emphasis.
"Oh! certainly not."
"It may be a little island out there somewhere, you know," delivered with
the effect of a masterpiece.
"Yes; or a lighthouse, possibly."
I saw that John wished he had thought of that himself. He became dejected
again. Then, presently, he threw oil the cloak of bitterness which sat so
ill on him, and, resuming his usual kindliness and benignity of manner,
succeeded in making himself unconsciously tantalizing.
"If you do find it," he said; "and if you--if you conclude to stay for
any length of time, I think I will go down some time this winter and hunt
you up."
"If you do, John Cable," I answered, with unaccountable warmth; "I'll
never forgive you as long as I live--never."
At Hartford, John took the train for Boston, too. We were very old
friends. Latterly, we had read Shakespeare together at the Newtown
Literary Club.
Pages:
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27