Читать книгу Walda. A Novel онлайн

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Everett went out on the porch, where he took possession of his host’s arm-chair. Naturally his thoughts wandered to Walda. The girl was a mystery to him. Although he was slow to acknowledge it, he knew that she aroused in him an insistent interest. He who cared little for women suddenly found his attention fixed upon a girl who belonged to a class different from any other with which he had ever come in contact. He usually classified all women he met. He found that they were easily divided into comparatively few types. Here was one whose education and whose traditions isolated her. He hoped she would pass by the inn. Impatiently he looked at his watch; the hour for evening prayer was slow in coming. He had risen with the intention of strolling about the square, when he heard the meeting-house bell ring. In a moment the long street again became alive. As the men and women went by on opposite sides, many of them glanced at him. Even the demure, quiet girls allowed their eyes to rest upon him for half a second. One, however, was unconscious of his presence. Frieda Bergen, the village maid who had taken the letter from the tree-trunk at the mill, looked across the grass-grown road to a youth who kept his eyes upon her until the blood mounted to her cheeks and her glance was cast upon the ground.