The Bondage of Ballinger | Page 8

not seen how bitterly I have been disappointed, and how all my expectations have been deceived?"
She looked up at him wonderingly. "Thee has been disappointed? Am I not as much to thee?"
At this he laughed again. "Thee is and has been everything to me, foolish child, and without thee I should have died of desperation, but the truth is..."
"Well, Thomas?"
"The truth is," he went on, forcing out the words, "there is not a decent book-store in the county, or for that matter, in the country."
The tired look crept back into the patient eyes, and a sigh came up from the anxious heart as little Hannah clung a little closer to her husband.
"Let us go where thee will, dear." Westward they went, on through the pleasant Southland, with its wealth of foliage and blossoms, its waving palms and bewildering masses of flowers, ever beckoning to them and inviting them to stay. And Hannah would have remained, for she loved the gentle climate and the profusion of nature, and the kindly people of soft speech and gracious manner, but the restlessness of a feverish spirit was in Thomas, and he loitered only until he had acquired the means of further travel. And so they wandered until they came to the great river which divides the continent. And lingering a space as emergency demanded they journeyed on where the mountains rise thousands of feet above the plains and wear eternal snow on their peaks. And then across the desert of sand to where the mountains rise again, and so down the slope into the golden country of warmth and sunshine. The months had crept into years; the lines had deepened in Thomas's face, and the silvery threads were shining in Hannah's brown hair, but no word of complaint came from her lips and no feeling of reproach was in her heart. The living had been precarious, the wanderings had been long, and the halts many, but the two grown-up children held to each other the one because he had learned in his vacillation and weakness to lean on a better and braver spirit, the other because she loved and was strong.
Standing on the cliff that looked over the western ocean, Thomas, in a wave of remorse that periodically overwhelmed him, and mindful of his failings and his failures, said ruefully:
"Your father was right, Hannah. You took me for poorer and for worse. I have done nothing that I should have done, everything that I should not have done. You have followed me faithfully and loyally, but fruitlessly, from ocean to ocean. I wonder why you have loved me and stood by me all these years."
Then Hannah, her maiden dreams dispelled and her hopes dimmed, but her faith and courage strong and high, replied:
"We do not always know why we love, Thomas, or why we are constant. It is not given to a woman to argue such things or to explain them by any exact rule of science. In truth, I would not wish to ask myself why I love thee, or what thee has done either to hold or to forfeit my love. It is enough for me to know that I love, and that I have always loved since we were children far off yonder."
The memory of those days rushed back and she choked in her speech. But Thomas had already forgotten her, for a great ship had passed out of the golden gate and was spreading its wings for the eager flight. "See, Hannah," he cried, "what a glorious thing it would be," and he stopped suddenly, for his thoughts were on the speeding vessel and the waters and the distant shores beyond.
Hannah smiled and laid her hand upon his arm. "I know what is in thy heart, Thomas, and how gladly thee would go with me across the water."
"Think of the new world that would open up to us, Hannah. Think of the treasures that we should see and that might be ours. In a few weeks, or months at the latest, I shall be able to save the money for our passage and we shall go into new lands and realize all our dreams."
Then Hannah smiled again, but sadly. "I have no dreams to realize, dear. Is it not sufficient that we are growing old in our wandering, and that we have come to our country's end? Must our wedding journey go on for ever?"
When Thomas reddened at this thrust she repented in the delicacy of her nature, and said softly:
"It will go on forever, dear, for thee is always a lover to me, and our journey is in love. But," she added, roguishly, "thee has not exhausted our country's resources, Thomas; thee has not bought all the books."
He laughed at this. "These books are not all my offending,