Perry amounted to a disease. When the doctor had closed
the eyes of the third Mrs. Baxter, he had made some plain and
unwelcome statements that would rankle in the Deacon's breast as
long as he lived. Patty knew, therefore, that the chance of her
father's blessing falling upon her union with either of her
present lovers was more than uncertain, and of what use was an
engagement, if there could not be a marriage?
If Patty's mind inclined to a somewhat speedy departure from her
father's household, she can hardly be blamed, but she felt that
she could not carry any of her indecisions and fears to her
sister for settlement. Who could look in Waitstill's clear,
steadfast eyes and say: "I can't make up my mind which to marry"?
Not Patty. She felt, instinctively, that Waitstill's heart, if it
moved at all, would rush out like a great river to lose itself in
the ocean, and losing itself forget the narrow banks through
which it had flowed before. Patty knew that her own love was at
the moment nothing more than the note of a child's penny flute,
and that Waitstill was perhaps vibrating secretly with a deeper,
richer music than could ever come to her. Still, music of some
sort she meant to feel. "Even if they make me decide one way or
another before I am ready," she said to herself, "I'll never say
'yes' till I'm more in love than I am now!"
There were other reasons why she did not want to ask Waitstill's
advice.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177