The young girl
stared at him in surprise and confusion,--faltered something
inarticulate, and attempted to pass. But a wilful mood had
seized the young idler, and he caught at her arm. Frightened,
she slipped by; and half mischievously he turned and ran after
her through the tall pines.
Yonder, toward the sea, at the end of the path, came John
slowly, with his head down. He had turned wearily homeward
from the schoolhouse; then, thinking to shield his mother
from the blow, started to meet his sister as she came from
work and break the news of his dismissal to her. "I'll go
away," he said slowly; "I'll go away and find work, and
send for them. I cannot live here longer." And then the fierce,
buried anger surged up into his throat. He waved his arms and
hurried wildly up the path.
The great brown sea lay silent. The air scarce breathed.
The dying day bathed the twisted oaks and mighty pines in
black and gold. There came from the wind no warning, not a
whisper from the cloudless sky. There was only a black man
hurrying on with an ache in his heart, seeing neither sun nor
sea, but starting as from a dream at the frightened cry that
woke the pines, to see his dark sister struggling in the arms of
a tall and fair-haired man.
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