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"I can't," cried Gracie. "But do try, darling!" Avery urged her softly. "Because, you see, I can't leave you like this, and your poor little mother wants me so badly. She is ill, Gracie, and I ought to go to her, but I can't while you are crying so." Thus adjured, Gracie made gallant efforts to check herself. But her spirit was temporarily quite broken.
Avery sat up, and pushed her chair back against the window-curtain. Jeanie entered, a glass of milk in one hand and a plate in the other. "Good morning, dear Avery!" she said, in her gentle, rather tired voice. "I've brought you a hot cake too straight out of the oven. It smells quite good."
We've got to make it as strong as possible before the tide comes back." "You may rely on me to do my very best," Avery said earnestly. He nodded. "Thank you. I know I may. I always do. Hence my confidence in you. May I give you some more tea?" He quitted the subject as suddenly as he had embarked upon it. There was something very friendly in his treatment of her.
And don't trouble to wait for me! I've got to tie this animal up." He stopped to do so, and Avery opened the gate and walked slowly up the path. At the porch she paused to await him, and turned her face for a moment to the darkening sky. But the Star of Hope was veiled. "Piers! Where the devil are you, Piers?"
Aunt Hannah married Robert Avery, who drank a good deal; I can't remember anything about her. Aunt Abby was large and thrifty; she married John Jenkins, and had a large family.... Amy, my mother, was her mother's tenth child. Mother was born in Rensselaer County near Albany, in 1808. Her father moved to Delaware County when she was a child, driving there with an ox-team.
The wing of this vast body brushed Cally's cheek now, in mamma's cooing notes. She felt it, but only smiled. A new strength possessed her; she was her own girl now as never before. "I'll give the suggestion due thought, mamma dear ... I've an engagement now." Annie knocked, announcing Mr. Avery.
They sat in the dewy garden till in the distant woods the nightingales began their passion-steeped music, and then because the ecstasy of the night was almost more than she could bear Avery softly freed herself from her husband's arm and rose. "Going?" he asked quickly. He remained seated holding her hand fast locked in his.
He wondered sometimes, with a sudden sinking of the heart, what would be the result if they knew about his father. He never looked at Avery Windom without thinking of it. He used to watch her in church, sitting up between her aristocratic father and mother, sweet and refined, like a dainty white flower.
The nurse sat working beside a hooded lamp that threw her grave, strong face into high relief, but only accentuated the shadows in the rest of the room. Avery sat close to the bed, not praying, scarcely thinking, waiting only for the opening of the Gates. And in that hour she longed, oh, how passionately! that when they opened she also might be permitted to pass through.
It took place in the midst of a spell of sultry weather, during which the sun shone day after day with brazen strength and the heat was intense. It was the sort of weather Piers revelled in. It suited his tropical nature. But it affected Avery very differently. All her customary energy wilted before it, and yet she was strangely restless also.
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