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Updated: May 6, 2025
But before he could speak, a silk-robed figure stepped out onto the verandah of the Resident Engineer's office, and called delightedly, "Ah, Lord Avondale! welcome to Michamac! You escaped my hospitality in town, but you can't here!" "Thanks. Very good of you, I'm sure," replied Lord James dryly. "I see you've come with old Grif," Ashton gayly rattled on. "Hello, Griffith! Hurry in, all of you.
She was so frightened that she broke into a little cry, and put her hand up to his lips. "Griffith!" she said, "Grif! dear old fellow. You don't know what you are saying. Oh! don't don't!" Her horror brought him to his senses again; but he had terrified her so that she was trembling all over, and clung to him nervously when he tried to console her.
She stopped him that moment, and stood before him, holding his arm and looking up at him. "Hardened!" she repeated. "Grif, if you say that again, I will never forgive you. What is the good of our love for each other if it won't keep our hearts soft? When we get hardened we shall love each other no longer. What have we told each other all these years?
And the piteous rain of heavy tears that rolled down her cheeks, and fell upon her pillow, was not for herself, not for her own pain and weariness and anguish, not' for the white, worn face, that would be shut beneath the coffin-lid, but for Grif, for Grif, for Grif, who, coming back some day to learn the truth, might hear that she had died!
But not alone, for grouped all about his pedestal were Washington and his generals, the matrons and maids, with a background of troops shouldering arms, Grif and Joe doing such rash things with their muskets, that more than one hero received a poke in his august back.
Dolly, what has he ever done that he should saunter on the sunny side, clad in purple and fine linen all his life? The money he throws away in a year would furnish the house at Putney." "Oh, dear!" burst forth Dolly. "You are going wrong. It is all because I am not there to take care of you, too. Those are not the sentiments of Vagabondia, Grif." "No," dryly; "they are of the earth, earthy."
"I thought the day would never break. I I wonder how long it will be before Grif will be reading his letter?" "He may get it before nine o'clock," answered Aimée; "but don't trouble about it, or the day will seem twice as long. Take Tod down-stairs and wash and dress him. It will give you something else to think of." The wise one herself had not slept well.
"Do write and tell us how you get on now and then; I like to hear about other people's good times while I'm waiting for my own," said Molly, too much interested to observe that Grif was sticking burrs up and down her braids. "Of course I shall write to some of you, but you mustn't expect any great things for years yet.
Why, I could look at myself, and wonder at the thought of how much I shall see and know if I should die. Grif, how much I should have to tell you, dear, only that people are always afraid of spirits, and perhaps you would be afraid, too, even of me! What would they say at home? Dear, old, broken-hearted fellow, what would you say, if I should die?"
How strange it sounds! Have I never thought that I could die before, or is it strange because now it is so real and near? When I used to talk about death to Grif, it always seemed so far away from both of us; it seemed to me as if I was not good enough or unreal enough to be near to Death, great, solemn Death itself.
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