Believe it? Why how could they? They knew the road perfectly. We might as well have said it to people who had seen their friends go over Niagara.
However, we convinced them; and then, instead of saying something, or going on crying, they grew very still--words could not express it, I suppose.
Nobody could do anything that night, or sleep, either; but there was a deal of moving talk, with long pauses between pictures of that flying carriage, these pauses represented--this picture intruded itself all the time and disjointed the talk.
But yesterday evening late, when Lewis arrived from down town he found his supper spread, and some presents of books there, with very complimentary writings on the fly-leaves, and certain very complimentary letters, and more or less greenbacks of dignified denomination pinned to these letters and fly-leaves,--and one said, among other things, (signed by the Cranes) "We cancel $400 of your indebtedness to us," &c. &c.
(The end thereof is not yet, of course, for Charley Langdon is West and will arrive ignorant of all these things, today.)
The supper-room had been kept locked and imposingly secret and mysterious until Lewis should arrive; but around that part of the house were gathered Lewis's wife and child, Chocklate, Josie, Aunty Cord and our Rosa, canvassing things and waiting impatiently. They were all on hand when the curtain rose.
Now, Aunty Cord is a violent Methodist and Lewis an implacable Dunker-- Baptist. Those two are inveterate religious disputants. The revealments having been made Aunty Cord said with effusion--
"Now, let folks go on saying there ain't no God! Lewis, the Lord sent you there to stop that horse."