Wilderness Run Read Online Free PDF Page B

up.
    â€œIf you’ll all excuse me,” he said. “I have some work to attend to.”
    â€œAt this hour?” said Bel’s uncle.
    â€œStay with us, Daniel,” Faustina pleaded.
    â€œLet him go.” George shook his head. “It pleases my brother to build castles while the rest of Allenton dozes by their hearths.”
    â€œIf they have a hearth,” Laurence said, gazing straight at his cousin. But Bel was watching her father depart without answering her mother, the top of his shoulders bowed as if he carried a light but constant weight.

Chapter Four
    â€œI wonder what they did with the swan after they were together forever,” mused Bel after Faustina finished reading to them the “Lay of Milun,” by Marie de France. In the story, two lovers, parted by the lady’s marriage to another, communicated with each other for years via a white swan. They had a son together, who was raised by her sister, and when he grew up, he went off in search of his father. By then, the lady’s husband had died and the reunited lovers lived together happily, with no further mention of the messenger bird. The book of lais was Bel’s favorite; each story began with a plate that showed armored knights, damsels leaning from their towers, and even dragons, baring rows of blue razor teeth. Its pages were painted gold on the end, the color of treasure.
    â€œI imagine they gave him his very own pond outside their window and threw him cake crumbs every morning,” her mother said after a moment, her face yellowed by the candlelight. As she approached womanhood, Bel despaired that she would never be as pretty as her mother, whose lustrous brown hair still fell in curls around her smooth cheeks. At forty, Faustina seemed ten years younger than Aunt Pattie, although they had been born in the same year.
    â€œOr they let him go free,” Laurence said. His eyes had the hot dryness of an old man’s. He and Bel had managed to steal Faustina away after dinner by asking her to read them a story in the library. This was a dated tradition in the Lindsey family, largely abandoned after the children learned to read themselves. Entering the room with its high bookcases and smell of mildew and age, Bel felt a wave of memory pass through her, of being small enough that she had to be lifted to her chair beside the thick oak table, of the seat’s coolness seeping through the fabric of her dress as she waited for the story to begin.
    â€œMother, we have something to ask you,” she said, her heart pounding.
    â€œI thought so.” Faustina shut the book.
    â€œAunt Faustina, what would you do if you found a man in trouble, with no one to help him?”
    â€œI would help him,” Faustina said promptly. “What kind of question is that?”
    â€œEven if it was dangerous to do so?” Laurence ran his finger along the book’s gold edge, not meeting his aunt’s eyes.
    â€œEven if it were dangerous, Laurence, not was . But perhaps you should just ask me what you want to know. You’re a bit too young to succeed at Socratic questioning.”
    â€œWe met a runaway on the lake today, Mother,” Bel said, ignoring Laurence’s glare. “A Negro.”
    â€œAre you certain he’s a runaway?” asked Faustina.
    â€œHe asked us if we were the friend of a friend,” Laurence whispered. “I want to help him.”
    â€œWe have to help him,” Bel said.
    Faustina fixed her gaze on both of them in turn. The musty smell of the library deepened. Books towered like judges from their high shelves.
    â€œNeither of your fathers would countenance this,” she said finally.
    â€œDo they have to know?” Laurence pleaded.
    â€œHe looked very cold, Mother.”
    â€œHe has my coat, Bel,” Laurence shot back.
    â€œHe could sleep in the coach barn, at least, with a blanket,” Bel said.
    â€œHush. Both of you.” Faustina held