Presently he saw Carnac
and his mother. Mrs. Grier was conscious of a shock upon the mind of
Barouche. She saw his eyes go misty with feeling. For him the world was
suddenly shut out, and he only saw the woods of a late summer's
afternoon, a lonely tent--and a woman. A flush crept up his face. Then he
made a spasmodic gesture of the hand, outward, which again Carnac
recognized as familiar. It was the kind of thing he did himself.
So absorbed was Barode Barouche that he only mechanically heard the
chairman announce himself, but when he got to his feet his full senses
came back. The sight of the woman to whom he had been so much, and who
had been so much to him for one short month, magnetized him; the face of
the boy, so like his own as he remembered it thirty years ago, stirred
his veins. There before him was his own one unacknowledged child--the
only child ever born to him. His heart throbbed. Then he began to speak.
Never in all his life had he spoken as he did this day. It was only a
rural audience; there was not much intelligence in it; but it had a
character all its own. It was alive to its own interests, chiefly of
agriculture and the river. It was composed of both parties, and he could
stimulate his own side, and, perhaps, win the other.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173