Book-bot.com - read famous books online for free

A Sappho of Green Springs by Bret Harte
page 39 of 200 (19%)
forehead was rather high than broad, her nose large but well-shaped,
and her eyes full but so singularly light in color as to seem almost
sightless. The short upper lip of her large mouth displayed her teeth
in an habitual smile, which was in turn so flatly contradicted by every
other line of her careworn face that it seemed gratuitously artificial.
Her figure was hidden by a shapeless garment that partook equally of the
shawl, cloak, and wrapper.

"I am very foolish," she began, in a voice and accent that at once
asserted a cultivated woman, "but I so seldom meet anybody here that a
voice quite startled me. That, and the heat," she went on, wiping her
face, into which the color was returning violently--"for I seldom go out
as early as this--I suppose affected me."

Mr. Bowers had that innate Far-Western reverence for womanhood which
I fancy challenges the most polished politeness. He remained patient,
undemonstrative, self-effacing, and respectful before her, his angular
arm slightly but not obtrusively advanced, the offer of protection being
in the act rather than in any spoken word, and requiring no response.

"Like as not, ma'am," he said, cheerfully looking everywhere but in her
burning face. "The sun IS pow'ful hot at this time o' day; I felt it
myself comin' yer, and, though the damp of this timber kinder sets it
back, it's likely to come out ag'in. Ye can't check it no more than the
sap in that choked limb thar"--he pointed ostentatiously where a fallen
pine had been caught in the bent and twisted arm of another, but which
still put out a few green tassels beyond the point of impact. "Do you
live far from here, ma'am?" he added.

"Only as far as the first turning below the hill."
DigitalOcean Referral Badge