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Updated: May 10, 2025
Frequently we felt very sure we saw also that no small share of their captivating glow was reflected from Senda's replies of which she never would tell us a word. The faults in his written English were surprisingly few, and to our minds only the more endeared it and him. Maybe we were not judicial critics.
Loath to see him open his eyes, I kept very still, while nearly another hour dragged by, listening hard for Senda's return, but hearing only, once or twice, through the narrow stairway and closets between the two bedrooms, a faint stir that showed Mrs. Fontenette was awake and being waited on.
Yet she revived an instant; a quiver went through her frame like the dying shudder of a butterfly, her eyes gazed appealingly into Senda's, then fixed, and our poor little Titania was gone. The story is nearly told. Before I close let me confess how heartlessly I have told it.
"And can it be that she is going to pull through?" My wife's face went down into her hands. "O, no no. She's dying now dying in Senda's arms!" Her ear, quicker than mine, heard some sign within and she left me. But she was back almost at once, whispering: "She knows you're here, and says she has a message to her husband which she can give only to you." We gazed into each other's eyes.
The hither-side of his affairs he assigned for the time to a relative, a very young fellow, but ever so capable "a hustler," as our fat friend would say in these days. We missed the absentee constantly, but forgave his detention the easier because incidentally he was clearing up a matter of Senda's over there, in which certain displeased kindred had overreached her.
Fontenette had been ill something over a week, the doctor one evening made us glad by saying as he came through the little dining-room and jerked a thumb back toward Fontenette's door, "Just keep him as he is for one more night and, I promise you, he'll get well; but!" He sat down on the couch Senda's in the parlor, and pointed at the door to Mrs.
Since then we have learned to count it one of our dearest rights to get "put out" at Senda's outrageous reasonableness, but she doesn't fret, for "sare is neveh any sundeh viss se lightening." The issue of this first contest was decided the next day by Fontenette, still on his bed of convalescence. "Can I raise enough money in yo' office to go at France?"
Somebody forgot. As I sat by Fontenette with ears alert for Senda's coming and was wondering at the unbroken silence, he opened his eyes on me and smiled. "Ah!" he softly said, "thad was a pleasan' dream!" "A pleasant dream, was it?" "Yes; I was having the dream thad my wife she was showing me those rose- bushes; an' every rose-bush it had roses, an' every rose it was perfect."
No, I vill not sell t'em." "Oh, I see," said I, in mortal disgust. "Fontenette, I'm going to bed." And Fontenette went too. The next day was cloudless in two hearts; Senda's, and Fontenette's. As to the sky, that is another matter; one of the charms of that warm wet land is that, with all its sunshine, it is almost never without clouds.
At a whispered call we turned, and Senda, in the door, herself all tears, made eager signs for us to come. The last summons had surprised even the dying. We went in noiseless haste, and found her just relaxing on Senda's arm.
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