A Prologue To Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Beth, do you think Papa will be home tomorrow?”
     
    “I’m sure I don’t know,” said Beth, and her voice hardened.
     
    “Tom thinks he should bring me presents. Isn’t that funny?”
     
    “Very funny,” said Beth. “Now, let’s pray and go to sleep.”
     
    But Caroline was not prepared to pray yet. She studied Beth solemnly. Then she smiled, and those wonderful eyes of hers, so pure, so large, so absolutely beautiful, made the woman catch her breath. “You know what he said, Beth? He said I was pretty. Honest he did.”
     
    “You are, you are!” said Beth fervently, as if defying someone. “You have eyes like an angel, and a lovely smile. Oh, my dear, do smile often! Do you know you seldom smile?”
     
    “You mean I’m really pretty?” asked Caroline, her voice trembling again. “Cross your heart?”
     
    Beth immediately crossed her heart, and her comely face shone as if fresh from tears. Caroline at once giggled. The child nestled on her starched cold pillows. She folded her hands and recited:
     
“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
     
Watch the night this sleeping child.”
     
    It was too cold for the nightly Bible reading. Beth was already numb; her throat scratched, and she sneezed. She stood up and lifted the candle. Then Caroline put out her broad hand and caught Beth’s dress and she colored shyly.
     
    “Beth,” she whispered, “you thought I didn’t know it was your birthday tomorrow. But I did!” She unclutched her other hand and revealed three dirty one-dollar bills. “They’re for you, for your birthday! I got them out of my bank.”
     
    Beth took the old and rumpled bills and looked at them by the light of the candle. She could not speak.
     
    Caroline sat up in alarm. “Beth!” she cried. “What’s the matter, Beth? Why are you crying? Beth, Beth, why are you crying?”
     

Chapter 2
     
    Kate received a letter from Boston and clicked her teeth. She said to Beth, “Well, he isn’t coming out here to take us to Lyndon, after all. We’re to pack, call a hack, get on the train ourselves, and open up the other house and close this. Better move, Beth. School’s already open in Lyndon, and the brat’s got to go.”
     
    “He’s staying in Boston?” asked Beth.
     
    “For a bit, a few extra days.”
     
    Beth’s eyes brightened. She said, “Maybe he has a secret love there.”
     
    “No secret love,” replied Kate with her crone’s chuckle. “He’s got an office there. How sentimental you are, my girl.”
     
    “He’s handsome enough,” said Beth hopefully. “And not too old. And he dresses well.”
     
    “Like a toff,” Kate agreed. “Well, you’d best get down the bags from the attic. There’s some old blankets there too. Better pack them; we’ll need ‘em in Lyndon. I’ve a feeling we’re in for a hard winter this time.”
     
    “They’re just rags,” said Beth. She climbed the shaking narrow stairs to the gloomy attic, holding high her brown woolen skirts to keep them from the thick soft dust. Once in the attic, she shut the decrepit door and licked her lips, then tiptoed to one of the tiny windows at the end of the long cold room. She rubbed a spot in the dusty glass and peered out, smiling like a conspirator. Tom and Caroline, far behind the windowless lower back of the house — as Beth had advised — were tossing a ball to each other. Caroline was learning to run quite lightly for one of her bodily form. Beth could see her smile. The child jumped on the low dunes; now Tom was chasing her playfully. The wind blew her braids; there was a rosy color on her cheeks; she pushed Tom and he pretended to be overwhelmed and fell flat on his face. Caroline clapped her hands.
     
    Sighing and smiling secretly to herself, Beth looked for the bags they had brought in June. Long black spiderwebs, like thick nets, hung from the rough wooden ceiling with its pitched roof; the dust on the floor was like a carpet. It was very cold here, and yet airless,