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This will be my home," stopping by the porch of the little house. "If you would only look at it or walk through it once just once! It will be something for me to remember when you are gone." When she was gone? This was the last time. She went hesitatingly up on to the porch, and stood in the empty room by the bare hearth, Cabarreux beside her.
He went with a swagger, as though he walked on air, down the street. Two days later young Cabarreux, sauntering leisurely, as usual, across the square, met the squire and Sam Fetridge coming out of Grayson's office. Both men were greatly excited, but Sam was silent, while the squire talked volubly. He grasped Dave by the hand: "Cabarreux, I congratulate you! You are a lucky dog!
He had been drinking heavily, but he was sober. The squire and Grayson were discussing the event of the day, the will. "Calhoun is savagely disappointed," said the squire. "If Cabarreux had had the money, he would have allowed him to marry Isabel, he says. Now he means to send her North at once." "Are you sure that this Boyer is alive?" said Grayson. "Sam says so.
"I fancy that you bring me good news, major?" said Isabel, humoring his mood. "News? Yes, I bring you news. The will is read Judge Scroope's will." "Who is the heir?" "Peter Marmaduke Boyer, if he is alive. If he is dead, young Cabarreux." Isabel made no reply for a moment: the work she held fell from her hand. She had not known of this chance.
"I s'pose the jedge attended to his earthly affairs before he went off, Colonel Grayson?" he said. Grayson nodded. "Will witnessed, signed all correct?" "Yes." Byloe gave a dolorous cough: "Folks are talkin' a good deal about Dave Cabarreux as the heir. Dave's the next of kin." Grayson pushed the ashes into his pipe in imperturbable silence.
No one of the name ever had energy to earn salt to his bread. Cabarreux? Bah-h! Boyer is a man! Why, gentlemen, if Peter Marmaduke Boyer were to appear in Sevier, it would be like the coming of the eagle among the magpies." "Sam, you're drunk," said Byloe. "What d'ye know about the man?" "Know Boyer?" He laughed.
The poor sot was in earnest more in earnest, it seemed to her, even than Cabarreux had been when he had told her that he loved her to-day. "Miss Calhoun, do you remember one day three or four years ago, when I was knocked down in a drunken fight at Sevier, and lay like a beast on the roadside?" "Major Fetridge " "Hush! I must tell you: I never spoke to you about it before. You passed by.
"It is my land, and it would seem always different to me if you'd rest on it for a minute, Miss Isabel." Isabel sat down. The color glowed hot in her face, and her lips moved unsteadily as she tried to talk. "The laurel blooms late in this gorge," she said. "Look at the bush by the rock." But Cabarreux did not look at the laurel: he did not know what she said.
"You mean Cabarreux?" said the squire with a significant nod. "Yes, I mean Cabarreux. 'Twon't do, squire. I've forbidden her to see him again. Well, what d'ye think of sending her away? I meant to ask your advice about it." The squire was more intimate with Mr.
I came out to look into the quality of the soil this mornin', but I took a rest instead: I'll have enough of work hyar next year." "Yes, you will," with a little sigh, and a quick glance of pity at the well-knit, handsome figure. Cabarreux colored high and hesitated: "You you knew it was my land, then, Miss Isabel? When you stopped?" He bent so close that she could feel his breath stir her hair.