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His mother laughed at him; Marion Hautville was sarcastic to him, but this beautiful woman this magnificent queen at whose feet men bowed she not only sympathized with him, but she had the self-same ideas. "The great thing that I complain of," said Lady Amelie, "is that there really seems in these days nothing to do.
Madelon pleaded; but he smiled back at her unmoved. Jonas Hapgood's great body shook with mirth. "Likely story a gal did it," he chuckled. "I did do it!" returned Madelon, fiercely, turning to him. "I guess you don't want your beau hung." "I tell you I killed this man. I am the one to be hung!" The sheriff turned to David Hautville.
Eugene Hautville, rapt in that abstraction of love which is the completest in the world, and makes indeed a world of its own across eternal spaces, knew nothing and thought nothing of outside observers. He was half minded for a minute to enter Parson Fair's house.
No one had ventured to broach the matter to the Hautville men, for obvious reasons. "I wouldn't vally your skin if that fellar overheard what you was sayin' of when he come up the road, Joe Simpson," one loafer drawled to another, when Eugene left the store that afternoon and had disappeared going the long way home.
When Lot lay back, panting, he returned to his chair and did not speak again. The two remained in silence until there came the jingle of bells, the tramp of horses' feet, and the voice of men out in the yard. Lot lay still, with his eyes closed. David Hautville raised his head and looked at the window, thick with frost.
"Strike the Timbrel." Burr Gordon, listening, heard in that only the great soprano, and it was to him like the voice of Miriam of old, summoning him to battle and glory. But when that music ceased he did not wait any longer nor enter the house, but stole away silently. This time he travelled the main road, which intersected the old one at the Hautville house.
She covered her up warm in bed, with a hot brick at her feet, and dosed her with warm herb drinks, and coddled her, until, after some piteous weeping, she fell asleep. But for Madelon Hautville there was no rest and no sleep. She felt not the cold, and if she had fever in her veins the fierce disregard of her straining spirit was beyond it.
Madelon Hautville spoke with her proud chin raised, and her eyes as compelling as a queen's; but in spite of herself there came into her voice the tone of one who counts the days to death. Her father looked at her sharply. She turned again towards her task at the table. "Well, Lot Gordon can give ye a good home," said he. "His health ain't very good, that's the most I see about it.
"Hope she won't freeze her feet nor nothin'," said Dexter Beers, uneasily. "Let her go it!" said the red-faced man, swinging across the yard with his pails. Madelon Hautville walked on steadily. She reached the right-hand turn, and then she was on the direct Kingston road, with a ten-mile stretch before her. It was past one o'clock, and she could not reach her journey's end much before dark.
As he spoke Eugene's handsome face darkened again vindictively. He hated Burr Gordon for another reason of his own that nobody suspected. Suddenly Abner Hautville came running into the yard. "Who is it there?" he called out. "Is that you, father? That you, Eugene? Hello!" "Hello!" Eugene called back. "What's the matter?" Abner come panting alongside.
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