There was a lump in her throat, and
gathering tears in her eyes. It seemed to her that no one could ever
realize a loneliness more absolute and complete than hers. She thought
of the early summer mornings in that tiny farmhouse perched on the side
of the lonely valley, where the air at least was clear and pure and
bright, musical with the song of birds, and the west wind which stirred
always in the pine-woods behind heralded the coming morning. If only she
could have dropped from her shoulders the burden of the last few months,
and found herself back there once more. Then a pang of remorse shook her
heart. She remembered the happiness which through her had come to those
whom she loved, and the thought was like a tonic to her. She forgot her
own sorrows, she forgot that dim tremendous feeling, which had shown
through her life for a minute or two, only to pass away and leave behind
longings and regrets which were in themselves a constant pain. She
forgot everything except the thought of what it might mean to those
others who were dear to her if she should fail in her task. Her face
seemed suddenly aged as she sat there, crushing down the sweeter things,
clenching her fingers upon the window-sill, and telling herself that at
any cost she must succeed, hopeless though the task might seem.
Pages:
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219