Son,
that night she come as nigh beggin me to git you to marry her as a
proud girl could, an when I left I promised her I would talk to you
about it. She's a good girl, Toot, and it would make a man of you to
marry her. I like her mighty well an so does yore mother. Please do
come out home soon. It looks like a pity for you to be away so much
when it worries yore ma like it does.
"Yore affectionate father,
"JOHN WAMBUSH."
Westerfelt folded the letter deliberately, and then in a sudden spasm
of jealous despair he crumpled it in his hand. He turned his head on
the side and pressed down his pillow that he might see Harriet as she
sat by the fire. The red firelight shone in her face. She looked
tired and troubled.
"Poor girl!" he murmured. "Poor girl! Oh, God, have mercy on me! She
loves him--she loves him!"
She looked up and caught his eyes. "Did you want anything?" she asked.
He gave the letter to her. "Burn it, please. I wish I had not read
it."
She took it to the fire. The light of the blazing paper flashed on the
walls, and then went out.
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