She shook her head. "I told you I
was like Aaron's rod. See for yourself. The power of thought or interest
in everything else has withered and wasted like my face and body. My
days are almost as irresponsible as a child's now. I have gone back to
the carelessness of a little girl about the conditions of life. It was
once, and once only for me. But you have given me relief, or rather I
have given myself relief this afternoon. And now, will you leave me? I
am so glad to have said it all over, and yet, since I have done it, I
cannot bear to see you."
The peculiarity of her voice and manner, of which I have spoken, that
made all her words sweet and gentle, however unconventional they might
be, left me unoffended.
"Perhaps you are right;" I said, "yet I wish you would try my way." She
did not make any reply, and I left her standing with downcast eyes by
the door.
Mrs. Libby still sat sewing by the window when I returned. "Have a
pleasant time?" she asked, a gleam of curiosity in her cold eyes. "Seems
to me you didn't stay long."
"No, not very long."
"See that queer room of hers? Folks ain't asked into it much. They said
she took the minister right in there when he called. Kitchen table piled
up with books, 'n papers, books 'round on the floor, 'n' a mattress
a-layin' in a corner. Some of the boys peeked in one day when she was
down to the beach, 'n' told all 'round how it looked.
Pages:
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27