Prev | Current Page 145 | Next

Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion), 1854-1909

"Mr. Isaacs"

He seemed all sunshine, with his bright
blue eyes and great fair moustache and brown face; the closely fitting
uniform showed off his erect figure and; elastic gait, and the whole
impression was fresh and exhilarating in the extreme. I was sorry he had
gone. I would have liked to talk with him about boating and fishing and
shooting; about athletics and horses and tandem-driving, and many things
I used, to like years ago at college, before I began my wandering life;
I watched him as he swung himself: into the military saddle, and he
threw up his hand in a parting salute as he rode away. Poor fellow! was
he, too, going to be food for powder and Afghan knives in the avenging
army on its way to Kabul? I went back to my books and remained reading
until the afternoon sun slanted in through the open door, and falling
across my book warned me it was time to keep my appointment with Isaacs.
As we passed the church the people were coming out from the evening
service, and I saw Kildare, once more in the garb of a civilian,
standing near the door, apparently watching for some one to appear. I
knew that, with his strict observance of Catholic rules--often depending
more on pride of family than on religious conviction, in the house of
Kildare--he would not have entered the English Church at such a time,
and I was sure he was lying in wait for Miss Westonhaugh, probably
intending to surprise her and join her on her homeward ride.


Pages:
133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157