"How can I read? How can I sleep?"
She crossed to a large window opening on the lawn in the rear of
the house--and looked for the last time out at the gray old pines
and dim blue, ever wintry firs. Beyond were house-tops and
tree-tops of the town; and beyond these lay the country--stretching
away to his home. Soon the morning light would be crimsoning the
horizon before his window.
"How can I stay?" she said. "How can I bear to stay?"
She recalled her last words to him as they parted:
"Remember that you are forgotten!"
She recalled his reply:
"Forget that you are remembered!"
She sank down on the floor and crossed her arms on the window sill
and buried her face on her arms. The white dawn approached,
touched her, and passed, and she did not heed.
PART SECOND
I
The home of the Merediths lay in a region of fertile lands adapted
alike to tillage and to pasturage. The immediate neighborhood was
old, as civilization reckons age in the United States, and was well
conserved, It held in high esteem its traditions of itself,
approved its own customs, was proud of its prides: a characteristic
community of country gentlemen at the side of each of whom a
characteristic lady lived and had her peculiar being.
The ownership of the soil had long since passed into the hands of
capable families--with this exception, that here and there between
the borders of large estates little farms were to be found
representing all that remained from slow processes of partition and
absorption.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167