The Strange Affair of Adelaide Harris Read Free Page B

never to share those high, sweet passions with which the lovers of old led each other up the mountains of bliss?
    â€œDolly said my profile was extraordinarily Greek . . .”He presented this aspect of himself for Tizzy’s admiration. Unluckily Tizzy was still brooding on life’s disappointments and her expression was touched with something very like boredom. Fatally offended, the handsome Ralph felt one of his rages coming on. As through a veil of red, he saw Tizzy ahead of him. She was picking her way around the bramble hedge to the very edge of the soft, grassy couch. Angry, lustful thoughts inflamed him. He would teach her what it meant to be out with Ralph Bunnion. There was a terrible look in his eyes, and with a savage laugh he launched himself at Tizzy, meaning to seize her and bear her to the amorous ground.
    At the selfsame moment, Tizzy saw, of all amazing things, a tiny human baby, lying all alone, asleep in the grass. She cried out, “Lord save us! A baby!” and rushed to gather it up.
    Thus it happened that with nothing in the way to halt him, Ralph Bunnion, still laughing savagely, flew a goodish way across the declivity before coming down and striking the ground with his face. He gave a sharp, loud cry of pain, but Tizzy urgently begged him to be quiet as the baby was sleeping.
    Tiny Adelaide dreamed of deliciously frightening storms and thunder. Then she chuckled as she fancied herself to be borne up and floating in a sea of milk . . . gently, gently toward some crisp, entrancing shore . . .
    â€œThe shame of it,” murmured Tizzy Alexander, walking with the greatest care and tenderness as shebore her precious burden. “To leave such a sweet thing to die! Lord! What’s the world coming to? What can have come over the mother to part with her darling soft morsel?”
    Ralph Bunnion did not answer. He was not interested. He followed after Tizzy with a handkerchief pressed to his face. He had suffered severe scratches and bruises and his nose would not stop bleeding. He feared it might have been put out of shape. He had heard of such things. He was consumed with hatred for Tizzy and the infant in her arms.
    â€œWhat should we do with it, Mister Bunnion? We can’t just let it go on the parish. Perhaps it could go to the Foundlings? But wouldn’t that be a shame? It’s such a darling. And—and finding it so. I get a queer shivering that we were
meant
to come on it as we did . . . as if it’s something special, like Moses in the bulrushes or—or Perseus in his ark. Maybe it’s going to grow up into a saint or a hero or something. Oh, Mister Bunnion! D’you think we could keep it? It wouldn’t be no trouble. We could give it every love and care and Pa could teach it arithmetic . . .”
    Thus Tizzy prattled on, her motherly feelings shining in her flushed and sweet young face. All the benefits of love, affection and learning could be lavished on the mysterious infant. Nothing would be denied it . . .
    A little way behind her stalked Ralph Bunnion, his face—and particularly his nose—blazing with pain. Dimly he thought of revenging himself on Tizzy, butwas too upset to determine on how. Vague images of dark figures overwhelming her filled his dazed brain. He shifted the handkerchief and discovered that the blood still flowed. He hoped he’d not lost too much, and above all he hoped he’d not stained his father’s best cravat which he happened to be wearing. More and more passionate grew his hatred of Tizzy Alexander . . .
    A little way behind him, taking skillful advantage of every bush and sheltering hollow, crept Bostock and Harris, awed beyond measure by the fate that had overtaken Adelaide. Though Bostock had been deeply moved by Miss Alexander’s tenderness and the wonderful prospect she’d held out for the infant, he knew it wouldn’t be right to let Adelaide go. He peered toward Harris, whose face was of