Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 14, 2025
He saw that she had wide brown eyes the color of a fall willow leaf, a high- bridged nose and a mouth at present a marvel of contempt. Her slight figure was in a black dress; she was without rings or ornamental gold. "That talking trash gave me a cold misery," the colored woman admitted. She glanced at the girl and moved a bowl of salad nearer Elim Meikeljohn.
Elim Meikeljohn spoke mechanically: "I'll be responsible for her." The war was over; he had been ordered from the column when his wound had broken afresh, and in a maze of fever he had been irresistibly impelled toward Linden Row. "I'll take her to Bramant's Wharf." Haxall regarded suspiciously the disordered blue uniform; then his gaze shifted to Elim's somber lined countenance.
There, when he had been graduated, he remained there were already more at the Meikeljohn home than their labor warranted assistant to the professor of philosophy and letters. Elim again opened the paper before him and spread it severely on the table. The supposititious letter, "Two, Linden Row," opened in proper form and spelling, addressed to "Dearest Elizabeth."
He made his way to the rear; all was closed. Through the low limbs of apple trees he could see a double file of small sad brick quarters for the slaves. They, too, were empty. The place was without a living being. He stood, undecided, when suddenly he heard Rosemary Roselle calling with an acute note of fear. He ran through the binding grass back to the garden. "Elim Meikeljohn!"
He heard footfalls in the bare hall below, and a sudden easy desire for companionship seized him; he drew on the sturdy Meikeljohn coat and descended the stairs to the lower floor. Harry Kaperton's door was open and Elim saw the other moving within. He advanced, leaning in the doorway. "Back early," Elim remarked. "What's new at Parker's?"
A small group at a main entrance faced them as they approached; a coatless man with haggard features, his clothes saturated with water, advanced quickly. "Miss Rosemary!" he ejaculated in palpable dismay. He drew Elim Meikeljohn aside. "Take her away," he directed; "her father ... killed, trying to save his papers." "Where?" Elim demanded. "Their house is empty. She can't stay in Richmond alone."
A colored woman, in a crisp white turban, with a strained face more gray than brown, suddenly advanced holding before her in both hands a heavy revolver of an outworn pattern. Elim Meikeljohn could see by her drawn features that she was about to pull the trigger, and he said fretfully: "Don't! The thing will explode. One of us will get hurt."
He heard a movement at a door, and the colored woman in the white turban moved to the side of the bed. "I told her," she said in an aggrieved voice, "there wasn't nothing at all wrong with you. I reckon now you're all ready to fight again or eat. Why did you stir things all up in Richmond and kill good folks?" "To set you free!" Elim Meikeljohn replied. She gazed at him thoughtfully.
He was tremendously sorry that Elim had been overlooked the truth being that no one had known what a good companion Elim was. It seemed to Elim Meikeljohn, drinking sherry, that the night before he had not existed at all. He did not analyze his new being, his surprising potations; he was proceeding without a cautious ordering of his steps.
The air was charged with a sense of imminence, the vague discomfort of pending catastrophe. Elim listened without comment, his eyes narrowed, his long countenance severe. Most of the men had gone into Boston, to the Parker House, where hourly bulletins were being posted. Those on the steps rose to follow, all except Elim Meikeljohn in Boston he knew money would be spent.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking