The White Rose of Memphis. William C. Falkner. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: William C. Falkner
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4057664608277
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very much like you; and should you ever need a home, come to me and you’ll find one.’

      “‘I thank you so very much—much more than words can express, and I hope God will reward you!’

      “‘There, there, child, hush, or you’ll make a fool of me!’ and he left the room with the brim of his hat pulled down over his eyes to hide his tears.

      “Once more we were permitted to renew our march on the road to Memphis; and during the next three days nothing occurred worthy of mention. We were happy because Lottie kept up so well—she was so cheerful, and never complained; the cloth shoes I had made for her proved a great success; no more blisters appeared on her feet; the weather, though quite warm during the day, was pleasant mornings and evenings, while the nights were delightful. We continued our gipsy plan of camping out nights, and traveled leisurely during the day, so as not to fatigue Lottie.

      “But as I hear the music in the saloon, which is the signal for the dance to commence, I shall break off the thread here, and promise to take it up again when her Majesty shall be pleased to command me.”

      “I had rather listen to the story than to dance,” said Scottie.

      “So would I,” said the queen.

      But just then the band struck up a lively air, and the temptation of the dance proved irresistible, for the majority of the maskers hastened to the cabin, and the others had nothing to do but to follow.

       Table of Contents

      IT required no summons to be issued by the queen next morning in order to assemble her followers. They were on deck immediately after breakfast, long before the queen made her appearance, anxiously waiting to hear more of the tale. Therefore, when her Majesty made her appearance, Ingomar was at once requested to proceed, which he did without preliminaries.

      “Incidents apparently trifling oftentimes shape our destiny. But in making this statement I do not mean to convey the impression that I am about to describe a trifling incident, but the insignificant circumstances which caused the incident are what I refer to. Had it not been for an old bob-tailed, one-eyed, stray dog that happened to take a fancy to Lottie, and concluded to cast his destiny with her, there would have been no use telling this story. Old Bob was fond of chasing rabbits. One day he started one; the rabbit ran for life; Bob ran for the rabbit. The rabbit ran in a certain direction; Bob ran in the same direction; he followed the rabbit, and we followed him; while doing so we came to a gravel pit, which gravel pit I am sure we never would have seen had Bob not started the rabbit; but as he did start it, thereby causing us to go to the gravel pit, I shall proceed to tell what followed. A large number of men were shoveling the gravel onto flat cars, to be hauled on the line of the railroad for ballasting the track. The rabbit took refuge in a hollow tree near where the men were at work; they came and cut the tree down and caught the rabbit. We sat down near the gravel pit to rest; the foreman invited us to ride on the gravel train to the next station, which was directly on our road. We were delighted at the prospect of a ten-mile ride on the cars, and what made it most desirable was the fact that it would put us ten miles nearer Memphis in a few minutes, whereas it would be a good day’s walk if we had to foot it. We thanked the foreman heartily and accepted his kind offer.

      “‘Hurry up, my men,’ said the foreman, as he looked at his watch, ‘throw in lively; we have no time to spare, for we must get to the station before the passenger train.’

      “The men threw the gravel on the cars with great rapidity, and very soon the flats were loaded and the train began to move. Lottie and I took seats on the car next to the engine, while Harry went forward to ride on the pilot.

      “‘My little man,’ said the engineer to Harry, ‘it is very dangerous to ride on the pilot. You had better not attempt it, as we are compelled to run very rapidly so as to reach the station before the passenger train.’

      “I was astonished to see that Harry paid no attention to the warning; it was so different from his usual way of doing things. It was I who had been considered reckless, while Harry was looked upon as the embodiment of prudence and wisdom. Lottie called to her brother, begging him to come back and ride with her; but he sat immovable and silent, without turning his head to notice her. Harry afterward informed me that a strange, unaccountable desire to ride on the pilot of the engine seized upon him, and he could not resist it.

      “‘It may be imagination, merely,’ said he, ‘but I thought something whispered to my mind, positively directing me to ride there. I had the inclination to heed the warning of the engineer, but a most mysterious influence seemed to rivet me down to the spot, so I could not move. I have heard that notice of approaching events was often conveyed to the human mind through the medium of dreams, but in my case the notice came while I was wide awake, and in a manner to me incomprehensible and most mysterious. Call it superstition if you will; call it nonsense if you choose; I care not; I state facts, and you may draw your own conclusions.’

      “I did not argue the question with him, for I perceived that he was deeply in earnest, and his manner was so serious that I thought best to say nothing against his strange theory.

      “‘Let her run, Dan,’ said the conductor to the engineer, as he held his watch in his hand; ‘only ten minutes till number four is due at the station, and eight miles to run.’

      “The engineer, who had a frank, open countenance and keen, intelligent eyes and iron-gray hair, seized the lever and gave a backward pull, and the engine dashed forward like a ball discharged from a siege gun. Fences, trees and houses all seemed to be flying; the wind whistled about Harry’s face, and played with his dark-brown hair as it floated straight out behind his head. He held his hat in his hand, while his face was all aglow with excitement.

      “‘You had better order that boy away from the pilot,’ said the engineer to the conductor, as he opened the throttle to let on more steam; ‘he might get hurt where he is; we are taking great risk anyway; the track, you know, is very crooked from here to the station; if a cow, or hog, or anything should be on the track, he would be killed.’

      “‘You had better not ride there, my little man,’ said the conductor, ‘it is very dangerous.’

      “Harry sat immovable, as if he had been fastened there with bolts of steel, while the train flew onward at the extraordinary speed of a mile per minute. It is very probable that Harry did not hear the warning given by the conductor, as the noise made by the engine as it thundered on may have prevented it. At all events, he did not move; he was rapidly approaching his destiny; whether that destiny was for weal or woe will be a matter for after consideration. Harry always contended that it was a supernatural influence that compelled him to take his seat on the pilot of that particular engine at that particular time. He said that the influence, or whatever it was, came upon him with such unmistakable distinctness that he would have resisted any attempt to force him away. The more I ridiculed the idea, the more firmly did he stick to it.

      “‘It was Providence,’ said he, ‘that is certain.’

      “‘I wonder if Providence made old Bob start the rabbit, merely to guide us to the gravel pit?’ said I.

      “‘No doubt of it,’ was his reply.

      “‘I didn’t know before now that you were so full of superstition.’

      “‘If it is superstition to believe that Providence prompted me to ride on the engine that day, then I am overflowed with it.’

      “The brave old engineer stood with his hand on the lever, his sleeves rolled above his elbows, his face blackened with smut and smoke, his gray locks pushed back and streaming in the wind. Undaunted courage was stamped on every feature; his lips were firmly closed, and the picture he presented reminded me of the description of Vulcan which I had read in Homer.

      “‘Will she make it, Dan?’ inquired the conductor.

      “‘Yes,