A simple gray dress, with a bright
ribbon at the throat and a bunch of autumn flowers carelessly tucked
into the belt which circled the trim waist, completed the picture
framed in the doorway of the white school-house. She stood, with
eyes fastened on the paper which she held in one hand, while the
other pressed a pencil-head against her cheek, unmindful of the
curious glances that were fixed upon her from within, until the
messenger-boy had twice repeated his customary question:
"Any answer, ma'am?"
She reached forth her hand, slowly and without reply. The boy looked
up and saw that she was gazing far beyond him and had a strained,
fixed look in her eyes.
"Want a blank?" he asked, in a tone of unconscious sympathy.
She did not answer, but as he put his pad of blanks into her
outstretched hand she drew it back and wrote, in a slow and absent
manner, a message in these words:
"To CAPTAIN OSCAR AINSLIE, Boyleston, Va.
"Coming.
"MOLLIE."
"Collect?" asked the boy.
"No!"
She inquired, and paid the charges in the same unheeding way. The
messenger departed with a wistful glance at the dry, pained eyes
which heeded him not. With a look of dumb entreaty at the overhanging
mountain and misty, Indian summer sky, and a half perceptible shiver
of dread, Mollie Ainslie turned and entered again the school-room.
CHAPTER XVII.
GOOD-MORROW AND FAREWELL.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151