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Vendell?" She leaned towards him a trifle the merest trifle. Wendell stood silent. "Do you still vant to marry me John?" The name was but a breath. He stared at her as if fascinated by the spell of her glowing eyes. With an effort he looked away from her to von Rittenheim. "Tell me," he said, huskily, "I don't understand. Her husband? Is ?"
Von Rittenheim had insisted upon going home to his cabin a few days before, since which time the old lady had missed him grievously. He was not yet strong enough to take the five-mile ride to Oakwood on his mule, and she had made the gander-pulling an excuse to go to his cabin to see how his housekeeping was progressing, and to take him for a drive.
"You won't do it! Oh, please don't! I came You mustn't " Her breath came in gasps. Von Rittenheim mutely took the pleading hands in his, and reverently kissed them. He faced the Doctor brokenly. "I thought you had heaped upon me every humiliation. Until now this was lacking. You might have spared me this!" Mounting his mule he broke into the thicket and disappeared.
Melissa came to him and proposed a seat beside Mrs. 'Gene Frady until the cotillon should be ended, but von Rittenheim preferred to go about the room as dexterously as he might in avoidance of the dancers, speaking to his acquaintances among the women and girls who lined its walls.
The air rapidly grew heavy with the smell of unwashed bodies and of moist tobacco, and with the peculiar oily odor of corn whisky. A short man of important bearing stepped in front of the rail and scanned the mass behind it. He easily singled out von Rittenheim, whose cropped head shone fair from among the towsled pows around him. "Oh, von Rittenheim," he called, "step out here a minute."
Lance, "and a man outside a party looks so forlorn, don't you think so?" "Some of 'em deserves hit," returned Mrs. Lance, laconically. "He's one." Von Rittenheim was fumbling with the halter-strap of his mule, when Pressley appeared beside him out of the shadow of a pine-tree. "Is that you, Pr-ressley? Do you r-ride or walk?" "Ah'm walkin'." "Then will I not mount."
The Schuylers, with Sydney and John, were in the Oakwood surrey, while Vandeborough cantered behind to take care of the horses "while de white folkses eats." The Cotswold party filled a three-seated buckboard and a surrey, and rejoiced further in outriders. Baron von Rittenheim bestrode his mule.
It must be yet how would he dare? Still it was Dr. Morgan's buggy. That long-haired black mule was unmistakable. The sight of it shook von Rittenheim as a breeze drives through pine-boughs. He felt choked, and put his hand to his throat. The old man had come to exult over him, and what could he do in his own house? Ah, there was only one thing to be done. Everything pushed him towards it.
She held out her hand to him. He hesitated a moment, and then took it in a brief clasp. "Good-night," was all she said. Declining Bud's offer of shelter, von Rittenheim bade him farewell, and strode into the darkness of the forest. Yarebrough looked after him, puzzled and disapproving. "He ain' none so glad to see his sister-in-law," he pondered. "Ah wonner what hit all means."
I thought you might know." Bud picked it up, disclosing a silver half-dollar upon which it had been resting. He looked at it as if afraid, and then glanced sheepishly at Friedrich. "A half a gallon," remarked the German, dryly. The mountaineer reddened and stooped for the coin. "Wait!" commanded von Rittenheim.
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