She
pointed with a withered forefinger which she held aloft and he felt as
if an electric current were passing from it to him. A chill ran down
his back and the hair lifted a little on his head. Jarvis and his
nephew stood staring.
"Walk in, governor," she said. "This house is honored by your coming."
Then, and all in a flash, Harry understood. The mind of the old woman
dreaming in the sun had returned to the far past, and she was seeing
again with the eyes of her girlhood.
"I'm not Henry Ware, Aunt Susan," he said, "but I'm proud to say that
I'm his great-grandson. My name is Kenton, Harry Kenton."
The wrinkled forefinger sank, but the light in her eyes did not die.
"Henry Ware, Harry Kenton!" she murmured. "The same blood, and the
spirit is the same. It does not matter. Come into our house and rest
after your long journey."
Still erect, she stood on one side and pointed to the open door.
Jarvis laughed, but it was a laugh of relief rather than amusement.
"She shorely took you, Harry, for your great-grandfather, Henry Ware,
the mighty woodsman and Injun fighter that later on became governor
of the state. I guess you look as he did when he was near your age.
Pages:
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273