Етюд у багряних тонах
A Flight for Life.
“Nay,nay,BrotherStangerson,”criedtheother; “thequestionisnothowmanywiveswehave,buthowmanywecankeep. Myfatherhasnowgivenoverhismillstome,andIamthericherman.”
“Butmyprospectsarebetter,”saidtheother,warmly. “WhentheLordremovesmyfather,Ishallhavehistanningyardandhisleatherfactory. ThenIamyourelder,andamhigherintheChurch.”
“Itwillbeforthemaidentodecide,”rejoinedyoungDrebber,smirkingathisownreflectionintheglass. “Wewillleaveitalltoherdecision.”
Duringthisdialogue,JohnFerrierhadstoodfuminginthedoorway,hardlyabletokeephisriding-whipfromthebacksofhistwovisitors.
“Lookhere,”hesaidatlast,stridinguptothem,“whenmydaughtersummonsyou,youcancome,butuntilthenIdon’twanttoseeyourfacesagain.”
ThetwoyoungMormonsstaredathiminamazement. Intheireyesthiscompetitionbetweenthemforthemaiden’shandwasthehighestofhonoursbothtoherandherfather.
“Therearetwowaysoutoftheroom,”criedFerrier;“thereisthedoor,andthereisthewindow. Whichdoyoucaretouse?”
Hisbrownfacelookedsosavage,andhisgaunthandssothreatening,thathisvisitorssprangtotheirfeetandbeatahurriedretreat. Theoldfarmerfollowedthemtothedoor.
“Letmeknowwhenyouhavesettledwhichitistobe,”hesaid,sardonically.
