Amanda by Anna Balmer Myers (popular books to read TXT) đ
- Author: Anna Balmer Myers
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âThen, Martin,â she whispered, âyou saved Lyman for me, because you thought I loved him?â
He lifted a protesting hand as if pleading for silence.
She went on haltingly, âWhy, Martin, you saved the wrong one!â
He raised his head from the pillow then; a strangling sound came from his lips.
The girlâs face burned with blushes but her eyes looked fearlessly into his as she said again, âYou saved the wrong one. Why, MartinâMartinâ if you wanted to save the man I loveâyouâyou should have saved yourself!â
He read the truth in her eyes; his arms reached out for her then and her lips moved to his as steel to a magnet.
When he spoke she marveled at the tenderness in his voice; she never dreamed, even in her brightest romantic dreams, that a manâs voice could hold so much tenderness. âAmanda, I began to read my own heart that day you found me in the woods and helped and comforted me.â
âOh, Martin,â she pressed her lips upon his bandaged head, her eyes were glowing with that âlight that never was on land or seaâââOh, Martin, Iâve loved you ever since that day you saved my life by throwing me into the bean-patch and then kissed my burnt hand.â
âNot your hand this time, sweetheart,â he whispered, âyour lips!â
âIâm glad,â Amanda said after they had told each other the old, old story, âIâm so glad I kept my castles in Spain. When you went away and didnât write I almost wrecked them purposely. I thought theyâd go tumbling into ashes but somehow I braced them up again. Now theyâre more beautiful than ever. I pity the people who own no castles in Spain, who have no dreams that wonât come true exactly as they dreamed. Iâll hold on to my dreams even if I know they can never come true exactly as I dream them. I wouldnât give up my castles in Spain. Iâll have them till I die. But, Martin, that automobile might have killed you!â
âNonsense. Iâm just scratched a bit. Iâll be out of this in no time.â
âThat rascal of a Lymanâyou thought I could marry him?â
âI couldnât believe it, yet he said so. Some liar, isnât he?â
âYes, but not quite so black as you thought. He is going to marry a girl named Amanda, one from his college town, and they are going to live in California.â
âGood riddance!â
âYes. The engagement was announced last week while you were away. He knew you had probably not heard of it and saw a chance to make you jealous.â
âIâd like to wring his neck,â said Martin, grinning. âBut since it turned out like this for me Iâll forgive him. I donât care how many Amandas he marries if he leaves me mine.â
At that point little Charlie, tiptoeing to the open door of Martinâs room, saw something which caused him to widen his eyes, clap a hand over his mouth to smother an exclamation, and turn quickly down the stairs.
âJiminy pats, Mom!â he cried excitedly as he entered the kitchen, âour Martâs holdinâ Amandaâs hand and sheâs kissinâ him on the face! I seen it and heard it! Jiminy pats!â
The small boy wondered what ailed his mother, why she was not properly shocked. Why did she gather him into her arms and whisper something that sounded exactly like, âThank God!â
âItâs all right,â she told him. âYou mustnât tell; thatâs their secret.â
âOh, is it all right? Then I wonât tell. Mart says I can keep a secret good.â
But Martin and Amanda decided to take the mother into the happy secret. âLook at my face,â the girl said. âI canât hide my happiness. We might as well tell it.â
âMother!â Martinâs voice rang through the house. At the sound a happy, white-capped woman wiped her eyes again on the corner of her gingham apron and mounted the stairs to give her blessing to her boy and the girl who had crowned him with her womanâs love.
The announcement of the troth was received with gladness at the Reist farmhouse. Mrs. Reist was happy in her daughterâs joy and lived again in memory that hour when the same miracle had been wrought for her.
âSay,â asked Philip, âI hope you two donât think youâre springing a surprise? A person blind in one eye and not seeing out of the other could see which way the wind was blowing.â
âOh, Phil!â Amanda replied, but there was only love in her voice.
âIt must be nice to be so happy like you are,â said Millie.
âYes, it must be,â Uncle Amos nodded his head in affirmation. He looked at the hired girl, who did not appear to notice him. âI just wish I was twenty years younger,â he added.
A week later Amanda and Martin were sitting in one of the big rooms of the Reist farmhouse. Through the open door came the sound of Millie and Mrs. Reist in conversation, with an occasional deeper note in Uncle Amosâs slow, contented voice.
âDo you know,â said Martin, âI was never much of a hand to remember poetry, but thereâs one verse I read at school that keeps coming to me since I know you are going to marry me. That verse about
âA perfect woman, nobly planned To warn, to comfort, and command.ââ
âOh, no, Martin! You put me on a pedestal, and thatâs a tottering bit of architecture.â
âNot on a pedestal,â he contradicted, âbut right by my side, walking together, thatâs the way we want to go.â
âThatâs the only way. Itâs the way my parents went and the way yours are still going.â She rose and brought to him a little book. âRead Rileyâs âSong of the Road,ââ she told him.
He opened the book and read the musical verses:
ââO I will walk with you, my lad, whichever way you fare, Youâll have me, too, the side oâ you, with heart as light as air. No care for where the road you takeâs a-leadinââanywhere,â It can but be a joyful jaânt the whilst you journey there. The road you takeâs the path oâ love, anâ thatâs the bridth oâ twoâ Anâ I will walk with you, my ladâO I will walk with you.â
âWhy,â he exclaimed, âthatâs beautiful! Riley knew how to put into words the things we all feel but canât express. Letâs read the rest.â
Her voice blended with his and out in the adjoining room Millie heard and listened. Silently the hired girl walked to the open door. She watched the two heads bending over the little book. Her heart ached for the happy childhood and the romance she had missed. The closing words of the poem came distinctly to her;
ââSure, I will walk with you, my lad, As love ordains me to,â To Heavenâs door, and through, my lad, O I will walk with you.ââ
âSay,â she startled the lovers by her remark, âif that ainât the prettiest piece I ever heard!â
âThink so?â said Martin kindly. âI agree with you.â
âYes, it sounds nice but the meaninâ is what abody likes.â
The hired girl went back to her place in the other room. But Amanda turned to the man beside her and said, âRomance in the heart of Millie! Who would guess it?â
âThereâs romance everywhere,â Martin told her. âMillieâs heart wouldnât be the fine big thing it is if she didnât keep a space there for love and romance.â
The Reist farmhouse, always a busy place, was soon rivaling the proverbial beehive. Mrs. Reist, to whom sentiment was ever a vital, holy thing, to be treasured and clung to throughout the years, had long ago, in Amandaâs childhood, begun the preparation for the time of the girlâs marriage. After the fashion of olden times the mother had begun the filling of a Hope Chest for her girl. Just as she instilled into the youthful mind the homely old-fashioned virtues of honesty, truthfulness and reverence for holy things which made Amanda, as she stood on the threshold of a new life, so richly dowered in spiritual and moral acquisitions, so had the mother laid away in the big wooden chest fine linens, useful and beautiful and symbolic of the worth of the bride whose home they were destined to enrich.
But in addition to the precious contents of the Hope Chest many things were needed for the dowry of the daughter of a prosperous Lancaster County family. So the evenings and Saturdays of that year became busy ones for Amanda. Millie helped with much of the plainer sewing and Mrs. Reistâs exquisite tiny stitches enhanced many of the garments.
âPoor Aunt Rebecca,â Amanda said one day, âhow we miss her now!â
âYes, ainât?â agreed Millie. âFor all her scoldinâ she was a good help still. If she was livinâ yet sheâd fuss about all the sewinâ youâre doinâ to get married but sheâd pitch right in and help do it.â
Philip offered to pull basting threads, but his generosity was not appreciated. âGo on,â Millie told him, âyouâd be more bother than youâre worth! Next youâd be pullinâ out the sewinâ!â He was frequently chased from the room because of his inappropriate remarks concerning the trousseau or his declaration that Amanda was spending all the family wealth by her reckless substitution of silk for muslin.
âYou keep quiet,â Millie often reproved him. âI guess Amanda dare have what she wants if your mom says so. If she wants them things she calls cammysoles made out of silk let her have âem. Sheâs gettinâ married only once.â
âHow do you know?â he asked teasingly. âSay, Millie, I thought a camisole is a dish you make rice pudding in.â
âAch, that shows you donât know everything yet, even if you do go to Lancaster to school!â And he was driven from the room in laughing defeat.
It is usually conceded that to the prospective bride belongs the privilege of naming the day of her marriage, but it seemed to Amanda that Millie and Philip had as much to do with it as she. Each one had a favorite month. Philâs suggestion finally decided the month. âSis, youâre so keen about flowers, why donât you make it a spring wedding? About cherry blossom time would be the thing.â
âSo it would. We could have it in the orchard.â
âOn a nice rainy day in May,â he said.
âPessimist! It doesnât rain every day in May!â
There followed happy, excited times when the matter of a house was discussed. Those were wonderful hours in which the two hunted a nest that would be near enough to the city for Martinâs daily commuting and yet have so much of the country about it as to boast of green grass and space for flowers. It was found at length, a little new bungalow outside the city limits in a residential section where gardens and trees beautified the entire street.
âDo you know,â Mrs. Reist said to Uncle Amos one day, âthereâs another little house for sale in that street. If it wasnât for breakinâ up the home for you and Millie Iâd buy it and Philip and I could move in there. It would be nice and handy for him. Iâm gettinâ tired of such a big house. There I could do the work myself. Thereâd be room for you to come with us, but I wouldnât need Millie. I donât like to send her off to some other people. We had her so long aâready, and sheâs a good, faithful worker. Ach, I
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