The White Lady by Grace Livingston Hill

Author:Grace Livingston Hill [Hill, Grace Livingston]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-63058-204-3
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2015-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

By this time, Jimmy had arrived. Jimmy was never known to have missed anything that happened in Rushville since he was old enough to toddle, except the wreck the day that Constance arrived, and he never quite forgave himself for having missed that.

A crowd gathered instantly from nobody knew where. For a moment it looked as if there was going to be a fight. The bootlegger’s face was red with challenge. He was almost twice the size of his adversary. But there was something about John Endicott’s attitude that made one think he could fight, and the sudden quick lifting of his arm gave the impression of not only strength, but skill.

The crowd flashed a mute admiration at their minister, and stood back respectfully.

Then, suddenly, it was as if something unseen restrained him. As if he had been denied permission to do this thing, the hand that had been lifted was slowly lowered to his side. Though his eyes still held Barton in a stern look of rebuke, contempt flamed high in the red face of Barton, and a laugh that was not good to hear rang out, feebly echoed by two or three bystanders.

Some would be glad to see the minister downed. They had a contempt for all ministers in general, and this one in particular, because his preaching had aroused the interest of the girls they went with, but they were too cowardly themselves to admit it.

With an oath the bootlegger, as if to draw his adversary on, brought out a sentence about Constance that was enough to make the blood of any good man boil. For a second time John Endicott’s eyes and arm moved, but still the restraining power was upon him, and an exalted look of submission seemed flung over his face like a light from above. He stepped back suddenly as if a serpent had been in the way.

“Barton!” said he, a contempt now in his own voice, “you dishonor yourself by such words more than you could possibly dishonor me or any woman, good or bad; and this one is a stranger to us both.”

He turned after his rebuke, and walked away amid a silence that was unbroken until he reached the corner and was just about to pass out of sight. Then a single word was hurled at him by a boy on the edge of the crowd, a thin boy with hay-colored hair, light eyes, and a weak, contemptible mouth.

“Coward!” he yelled, loud and distinct. He would not have dared do it with the minister’s eye upon him. It reached the minister’s ears, and the crowd knew it must have done so, but he did not swerve a hair’s breadth from his course and was gone from their sight. The word seemed to rebound from him as if it had struck a wall of cement.

Instantly, Jimmy dived under the arm of the man who stood between him and the tall boy. It was Lanky, whom he had whipped once that day.

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