University of Virginia Library

10. X.
MY TRUNK IS PACKED.

Out of doors all was hushed and quiet. How well I remember
that night! A dewy, midsummer night. And
there, standing beneath the moon and the dim stars, I had
a feeling to which the gayest may sometimes be brought,
— a piercing sense of loneliness, as if I alone of all the
world was without a home; an alien in the beautiful,
calm universe of God.

I heard the throbbing murmur of the dam. I wandered
toward it, saw its misty whiteness glitter in the moon,
stood on the bank where I had first held Susie in my arms,
and tortured myself with vain regrets. After I had done
that long enough I walked back again, saw the light extinguished
in the farm-house, and knew Susie had gone to
bed. To sleep, perhaps to dream — of Peleg. I grinned
bitterly at the thought; and bidding her farewell in my
heart, and taking my last look at her window, I returned
to the tavern.

I packed my traps, then threw myself down, and rolled
and tossed in the long, dark hours, as it were in black
sweltering waves, the miserablest of men; heard the birds
chirp, and saw the first gray glimmer of dawn; then sank
into a feverish sleep and dreamed that Peleg took us all to
ride on the river in the handle of his jack-knife, with the
blade hoisted for a sail.

Awakened by Peleg's shutting the blade, I found it was
broad day. I arose and dressed with care. I breakfasted
as usual. Then I had my luggage brought down stairs, to
be in readiness for the early train. Then I paid my bill.
Then the landlady came and told me there was a person

waiting to see me in the parlor. Then I went into the
parlor; and there, sitting with her bonnet on, and with a
little can of honey in her lap, was Susie Thornton.

My heart gave a great bound at sight of her. But I
saw at once that it was not an occasion to afford me the
least ground of hope. Unwillingly she had come, sent by
her parents, who did not guess, and to whom she did not
confess, her reason for not wishing to come.

“Mother promised you some honey, you remember.
And when I told her you were going, she blamed me for
not giving it to you, and made me come and bring it, with
her best wishes, — and father's.”

She got through her errand very prettily. I took the
can, thanking her. But O, it was a sweeter honey than
that my soul hungered for. I took her hand. She burst
into tears. She stayed only to dry them, and was going,
when a loud, blatant voice at the door startled us.

“Seen Mr. Blazay anywheres around this morning, any
on ye?”

“Peleg!” gasped Susie.

“He 'll be gone in a minute; wait here,” I said, flinging
the long damask window-curtain over her.

Enter Peleg.