Phyllis was silently
weeping, and not, perhaps, altogether for the slaughtered women and
children on the frontier; there were a few proud, happy tears for
interests nearer home.
Then came John's surprise, and the happy ride home, and many and many
a joyful day after it--a month of complete happiness, of days devoid
of care, and filled with perfect love and health and friendship, and
made beautiful with the sunshine and airs of an earthly paradise.
Phyllis's home was a roomy wooden house, spreading wide, as every thing
does in Texas, with doors and windows standing open, and deep piazzas
on every side. Behind it was a grove of the kingly magnolia, in front
the vast shadows of the grand pecans. Greenest turf was under them;
and there was, besides, a multitude of flowers, and vines which trailed
up the lattices of the piazzas, and over the walls and roofs, and even
dropped in at the chamber windows.
There was there, also, the constant stir of happy servants, laughing
and singing at their work, of playing children, of trampling horses,
of the coming and going of guests; for Captain Millard's house was
near a great highway, and was known far and wide for its hospitality.
The stranger fastened his horse at the fence, and asked undoubtingly
for a cup of coffee, or a glass of milk, and Phyllis had a pleasant
word and a cheerful meal for every caller; so that John rarely wanted
company when he sat in the cool and silence of the evening.
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