"Father! He's not my father, d'ye hear? I've kept my word to him and now
I'm going to keep it to myself! You see that sun over the hills?"--She
turned to Con.--"It's the spring sun--it's summer--summer, d'ye hear?
And it's _mine_--and I'm going to have it, before I'm dead like my
mother died with her body still living! You're no more my father than
that dead tree the sun can't ever warm again!--It's for good--I said it
would be for good--and it is!"
We took her, sobbing dryly, between us, up the road.
That night in our house Lisbeth was married to Jim. A deep serenity
seemed to hang about her as though for the moment the past had been shut
away from her by a mist. As for Jim, there was a wonder in his eyes, not
unlike that I had seen when he came upon an old Lippo Lippi, and a great
comprehending reverence. There were tears at the back of my eyes--then
the beauty of the scene drove all else back before it.
* * * * *
There is one more episode in the life of Con Darton and Lisbeth. Knowing
him, it would be incredible that there should not be. It happened some
five years later and I was concerned in it from the moment that I was
summoned unexpectedly to Mr. Lin Darton's office in the city, a dingy
though not unprosperous menage located in the cheaper part of the down
town district.
Pages:
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580